Page 64 of Shattered Veil

Relax.

Stop thinking about her. She’s fine.

No, really. Stop.

By the time the clock struck nine, my list was, as per usual with things to do with Cassie, wiped clean. With no reason other than an endless case of rational jitters alongside a heart-eyed teenage dream, my paper went entirely blank, and my restless legs were put to use as I stood to leave.

Chapter 13

Icould have gone to Gas Lamp. I could have stared at the entrance of the establishment from my car, assessing its security from the outside. I could have gone inside and found her, either watching her from afar or alerting her to my presence, biting my tongue regarding any impending jealous thoughts at the sight of her in action. And I desperately wanted to make the last thought a reality. With the way that Cassie had willingly lowered her usual defensive walls, her forever insistence that she could take care of herself, and my desire to maintain and strengthen her trust in me, though, I forced myself to drive in the opposite direction and simply returned to her house.

It wasn’t lost on me that I was chasing her. I was, somehow, always chasing her. Hours after we had just met, I was racing to her house. Even when I was trying to avoid whatever connection we had, the stars had aligned and forced me to show up at Gas Lamp while she was working. The dominoes of whatever our relationship was began to fall after that, and I went after her again when Colton inevitably returned. And, here I was, pedal to the metal down the same bumpy, snow-covered road that led to her home…chasing her. She wouldn’t even be there for several more hours, and I was still chasing her because it felt like I could do no less.

Bones feeling as though they were trying to jump through my skin, I put my nervous energy to good use and searched for a shovel to clear her front porch of snow. It was easy enough to find—kept within a shed on the backside of her house that stored various other tools—and I was cursing that fact as the task at hand only took about fifteen minutes. I paced the kitchen afterward, body and mind restless, and upon realizing that it was only just past ten o’clock, I took it upon myself to light a fire. I returned to the shed to find a stack of wood kept beneath a blue tarp. There were smaller logs beside her fireplace, but they would burn quickly, and I knew that I was far from sleep. What was under the tarp was thick—far thicker than the pieces intended to burn inside—and I would have been remiss to immediately toss them in her fireplace.

So…I found an axe in the shed, and what had begun as an honest intention to replenish her chopped stack turned into an exertion that was needed. I swung at the logs for far longer than necessary and ended up sweaty with an absolute pile of splintered wood, most of which inevitably returning to its original location beneath the tarp. But…my anxiety that had dwindled with strenuous effects had returned full force. With exhaustion from my mental state and the exertion of chopping wood, I should have been primed to snooze away just as the fire managed to catch and crackle. However, as expected, sleep was evading me. I was simply watching the flames contort and flicker while I waited for her call.

The fire eventually reduced to embers, and two o’clock came and went.

And 2:15.

And 2:45.

The GPS location that she promised to share with me was shining bright on my phone, signifying that the last trace of her was at Gas Lamp, and my feet were pounding the floor—through the kitchen, to the fireplace, down the hallway, and back. By the time three o’clock came around, I was standing next to her couch, frantically tapping her name under Recent Calls to ensure that she was alright. I placed my cell against my ear, and there was no subsequent ringing. All that came through the speaker was Cassie nearly singing:

“Hi, you’ve reached Cassie! Sorry I missed ya. Here comes the beep.”

The high-pitched tone sounded, indicating that my voicemail was being recorded, and I should have just hung up…but because my pulse was palpitating in my throat, I bit out in a shaking voice:

“You said you’d call when you got off. Your shift ended at two. I’m waiting for you at your house, and you’re not here. Where the fuck are you?!” There was no response, of course, but I still paused as if she were listening on the other end of the line. I exhaled heavily and added, “If you aren’t here in fifteen minutes, I’m coming to find you, and I swear to God, Cas, if you’re totally fine and just chatting with your work friends after hours or some shit, I’m going to kill you myself!”

The last few words came out in a growl. I nearly smacked the glass face of my phone to end the call, and just when I was sliding it back into my pocket, her front door behind me was creaking open. I whipped around to see her standing in her doorway, eyeing me in curiosity. Dressed exactly as she was when she left with her maroon overcoat protecting her from the cold and black backpack slung over her right shoulder, she cocked her head to the side and quietly asked:

“What are you doing here? Did ya just never leave?”

I didn’t answer her question—I just stomped in her direction. Her gaze widened as she took in my anxious state, and I threw my arms around her shoulders before the feeling of relief was even able to sink in. Cassie took a single step backward to steady herself, I buried my nose in her hair, my over-filled lungs deflated as I let out a loud breath, and her arms slowly wrapped around my waist.

“Fuck, you scared me,” I whispered into her neck. “What happened to calling?”

“Phone died,” she apologetically mumbled. “Breath, Jay, shit.”

“Should I, um…go?”

A second woman’s meek voice sounded from behind Cassie, and I lifted my head to see her illuminated beneath the porch light. Though I was positive that we had never met before, there was something about her that screamed familiarity. She wore all black, the remainder of her a stark opposite with her skin naturally pale and almost powder-like complexion, and her long hair was nearly white. Her eyes—large, and the irises so light in color that I was sure they could reflect an image like a mirror—were bouncing across my embrace on Cassie hesitantly. Cassie and I had spoken to each other so quietly before that I was certain she hadn’t heard a word, but she still appeared to deduce that she had interrupted an important moment when she stated:

“I’ll go.”

Our hold on each other loosened, and Cassie lifted a hand to pat the left side of my chest, shooting me a quick, questioning glance that wordlessly asked if I was alright. I nodded rapidly in response, and her palm fell away as she spoke over her shoulder:

“You’re fine, Sky.”

“I—are you sure? I don’t want to be in the way—”

She spun on her heel, sweetly chastising, “You’re fine, Skylar,” and then turned right back around to walk across the threshold.

I took a step backward to allow her inside, and Cassie’s touch briefly found my waist as she casually waved for Skylar to follow her. She did, though the timid expression on her face remained as she walked past us and further into the living area, and Cassie shoved her front door shut.

“Um…hi.” I waggled my fingers at Skylar. “I’m James.”

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