Page 63 of For a Goode Time Call…
I’d seen the conflict, but she’d still left rather than face me, rather than face what we’d done last night.
What we’d created, together.
Namely: us.
That sense of us had been conceived last night—I’d pulled out before coming, true. But it was a thing no less real and physical for all that. Us.
And she’d run away from that.
And, for once, I wasn’t content to let that stand.
I wasn’t going to just let it slide. Accept it. Tolerate it.
I deserved more. Even if it was her telling me she didn’t want me, didn’t want us, couldn’t handle us, that I was too much for her, that what we’d done was a mistake never to be repeated, I deserved her giving me that face to face.
But, I’d give her three days to figure that out herself. Three days to decide what to do, on her own. To find me, to talk to me.
The first day was hell.I had a full schedule, so that mitigated things, a bit. But it wasn’t enough to keep me from dwelling on Cassie. So, for the next day, I called the first half a dozen names on my wait list and filled in gaps, so I was booked back-to-back for twelve hours straight, with a single thirty-minute break for lunch.
It wasn’t enough.
I did the same for day three, and it took every ounce of control I had to not tear Ketchikan apart looking for Cassie.
Finally, well after midnight on the third day, I flopped onto my bed and resolved to go look for her the next morning.
Cassie
“Cassandra Danielle Goode. Get your ass out of that bed this instant. This has gone on long enough, young lady.” Mom waspissed. “I don’t know what happened, but I’ve allowed you three full days to wallow in whatever misery you’re in. I get it. I’ve been there, sweetheart.” Softer, now. Gentle.
I just grumbled under my breath and turned away from her. Faced the wall. The bed dipped as Mom sat beside me, and her hand brushed through my hair.
“Talk to me, honey. What’s going on? It’s not like you to lay in bed for three days.”
I ignored her.
“Cass.” Firmer. “Stop this. Stop being petulant. Put on your big girl panties anddealwith it.”
“I’m not going to fit into my big girl panties in another week, Mom,” I groaned.
She just laughed. “Is that what all this is about? You got on the scale and it was a few pounds up?”
“A few pounds? Mom.” I finally sat up and turned to face her. “Try ten.TEN! I weigh one-fifteen, Mom.”
She just cackled. “Oh, the horror! What will you do?”
I glared at her. “What the hell, Mom?”
She touched my cheek. “Even with the ten extra pounds, Cass, you still have lower body fat than ninety percent of the rest of the female population on the planet.”
I wriggled. “You’re missing the point.”
She stared at me,intome, seeing me. As only a momma can. “Cassie-lassie.” She gathered me in her arms, held her to me. “Talk to me, baby. Talk to Momma.”
This was like sitting on Ink’s floor to put on my pants. Crying in a ball, surrounded by him.
And now, Mom?
Was I a child all over again?
