It didn’t matter. The only thing that mattered was what he’d done to Gigi.
And if she’d ever forgive him.
Pressing the intercom outside the Cavanaugh’s security gate, Cassian’s knee jackhammered. Come on, come on.
“Cassian?” Mrs. Cavanaugh said.
“Yes. Hello. I’m here to see Gigi. Can you let me in?”
“No. She doesn’t want to see you and, frankly, I don’t blame her.”
The woman was fierce in general, but she’d go to the mat for her daughters.
“I did not cheat on her. I would never cheat on her. Let me in. I have to talk to her.”
“Listen to me very carefully. She doesn’t want to see you. You need to go away and leave her alone. Maybe one day, once you get your shit together, you can write her an apology on nice stationery. But there’s nothing you can say that she’ll ever need to see your face for.”
The world went silent. The early morning air was scented with sage, and fog sat low to the ground. He pressed the buzzer again. He had no idea if anyone was listening, but he had to get through to someone. “I know I fucked up, but I didn’t touch Amie. I don’t want her. I don’t want…I fucking love your daughter. I love her. I would never hurt her.”
“And yet…you keep doing it. Again and again.”
He lowered his head in despair.
A Jeep came around the bend in the driveway. From the breadth of those shoulders and the size of the man’s head, Cassian knew it was security. He didn’t care. He’d stay here until Gigi came out. She had to leave at some point.
The Jeep stopped on the other side of the iron gate. A big black boot hit the asphalt, and a behemoth of a man got out. Dressed in black jeans and a black T-shirt, the man approached Cassian with menace. “We can do this nicely, and you can leave on your own accord, or I can call the police and make your life even more messed up.”
“I just need to talk to her.”
“It ain’t all about you, now is it? Gigi wants you to leave her the hell alone, so how much do you care about her? Enough to scat?”
Defeat smothered his lungs, making it impossible to take a full breath. “Yeah. That much.” He jerked the gearshift into Reverse and backed out onto the road.
He’d had the miracle of a second chance, and he’d blown it all to hell.
Chapter Nineteen
“She’s twenty-seven years old, and she’s doing it again.”
Gigi froze halfway down the staircase, her hand in a box of cookies. Her parents didn’t know she’d left her bedroom.
“Last time she was seventeen.” Her dad sounded calm, reasonable. “And, keep in mind, it all worked out. She went to USC, got discovered…she’s strong. She’ll pull through.”
I’m strong, my ass. Gigi dug into the box and fished around for another cookie but came out with nothing but crumb-crusted fingertips. Thanks for caring, Dad.
“You’re saying that because you don’t want to deal with the guilt. We broke them up. Maybe Cassian wouldn’t have become such a party animal if we hadn’t interfered.”
“Sweetheart, I pulled Cassian out of detention. He’s always had a self-destructive streak. And, I’ll tell you what, I stand by my decision to keep him away from my daughter at that time in her life. Besides, even If I hadn’t warned him off her, he would’ve found another way to blow himself up.”
“That’s not true. He loves her. Anyone can see how much he loves her.”
Three nights ago, wrapped up in a blanket, a box of tissue on her lap, Gigi had watched the footage of that night. It had been picked up by a gossip site and had gone viral. She’d gotten to see her expression as she’d raced out of the suite, and she’d gotten a close-up of Cassian who’d looked like he was witnessing a car crash.
She hadn’t left the house since. What her dad didn’t get was that this time she’d had all of him.
All of him.
And it had been almost perfect.
Losing him at seventeen…she’d lost the possibility of what they could be. This time? She’d lost her whole heart.
“He’s damaged goods,” her dad said.
That’s one thing we can agree on. Gigi continued down the stairs, not appreciating their conversation.
“Well, you were, too,” her mom said.
“And how long did it take me to get my shit together after I met you?”
“No time at all. You changed…” Her mom snapped her fingers. “Like that.”
“Exactly. This time, he had her just like he always wanted, and he still blew it.”
“Did he, though? I mean, you saw that woman. She was weeping. She was beside herself. How could anyone turn her away?”
“Nope. Not buying it. He was in his boxers.”
“I know. I can’t…” Her mom let out a weary exhalation. “I just don’t want her falling apart like last time. That was really hard on me.”
Breezing into the kitchen, Gigi tossed the cookie box on the island. “I won’t.”
Her mom startled. “Oh, honey. I didn’t know you were listening.”
“I was. Heard every single word. But don’t worry. I’m done with cookies.” She reached for the box, crushing it with her bare hands. “I’m also done with crying. I mean, whose fault is it, anyway? I’m the slow learner. Has he ever been different? No.” Not just no, but hell no. “This is who he is.” She was thirsty. She needed water. No, milk. Tea, maybe? She just…nothing really hit the spot. “Do we have lemonade? I’m craving it.”
“I’ll make you some.” Her mom gestured weakly to the huge bowl of fruit on the counter.
“I can make it myself.” She pulled a pitcher out from a cabinet and a knife from the drawer. “Stop looking at me like that. I’ll bounce back. I always do.”
Her parents exchanged concerned looks.
Wielding the knife, she said, “What? I do.” She stood there in her pajamas and slippers, with cookie breath and unwashed hair. “I’m not giving Cassian Ellis another minute of my life. And do you know why? Because I get it now. Like you said, he’s damaged goods. Maybe it’s because his parents died in a car crash, and he had to go into foster care for a couple of weeks until his uncle showed up. Or because he was dumped into a whole new world with a family he barely knew. They put him in Griffin’s room—like, really? Two teenage boys who were total strangers? And then he’s dumped into a new school—a small one—with already established cliques. And then he gets plucked out of detention by the great Tyler Cavanaugh, and lo and behold he’s on the fast track to becoming a football star.”
Her mom took the knife and started slicing a lemon in half.
“I mean, his life’s been nothing but drama from the time he was fourteen, and that’s all he knows. Maybe all the drama keeps him from being alone with his thoughts, his feelings, from really facing the horrific loss of his parents. I mean, has he ever stopped moving long enough to really face that his parents died? He never talks about it, that life as he knew it flipped in the blink of an eye.” Why were her parents looking at her like she was crazycakes? She was telling them she was fine. She touched the side of her head. “Don’t worry. I’m washing my hair in the morning.”