I shake my head. "After swallowing enough pills to choke a donkey, I'm not sure there ever was a baby, Cass. No matter what went down between us, you'd know a baby would make me stick around, and you wouldn't endanger that. I may be an asshole, but I don't turn my back on responsibility, and you'd be counting on that. Now, what the fuck is going on? And if you're dishonest, I will know."
My tirade ends abruptly, causing the room to succumb to the tense silence flowing between us. I rethink everything, and then just remember what the nurse said to me outside. "It's all a lie." She had to be talking about this. And if so, then what the fuck is Cass's endgame here?
"I detest liars, Cass," I grit between clenched teeth. I come to the foot of her hospital bed, my fingers wrapping around the back and tightening until my nails turn white. "Tell me the goddamn truth, or I will choke it out of you."
"Fine!" she explodes, throwing her hands up and allowing the sheet to fall to her waist. "Fine! It was all a lie, okay?"
A look of disgust slides over my features. "Why in the blooming hell would you like about something like that?" The more I think about it, the angrier I get. "You lied about a child! About trying to commit suicide! That is not something to play around with!"
"She can't have you!" Cassandra screams, looking manic and feral.
"You don't get to choose who has me and who doesn't," I say. "That is my choice."
"No!"
Slapping the end of her bed, I roar, "She has a goddamn child! He could be my son! I'm not, and I do mean, not going to have you messing around with that."
She mumbles something under her breath that I can't make out. When I'm about to ask her what that is, there comes a knock on the door just before a wiry man with thin, sleek, rimless glasses sweeps his way into the room, his lab coat flurrying behind him like a superman cape and his trusty clipboard.
"How are we feeling, Ms. Radcliff?" He glances up from his clipboard after he greets her with the questions, sadness and understanding shimmering in his eyes. Meanwhile, I roll mine and huff as I find a chair near her bed and sit down.
"I'm doing swell, doctor." I don't miss the way her Southern drawl gets that much deeper and more pronounced, flirting on unprofessional. You know, since he's a campus doctor and all.
He seems to hesitate in tearing his eyes away from her, but he does and pins me to my spot near the bed. "Are you here to escort Ms. Radcliff home?"
I stare blankly at him, neither confirming nor denying. I didn't plan on it when I got here and still don't plan on it now, especially with the way she bold-faced lied to me in order to get here. You'd think someone who was put into the clinic for nearly committing the unthinkable would be in here for much longer than what Cass seems to have been.
He hedges further. "Are you Hunter?" He looks down at his clipboard, adjusts his glasses, and then peers back up at me. "Hunter Prince?"
He only gets a small nod from me.
"Well ..." He puts the clipboard against his chest and wraps his arms around it, almost like he's crossing his arms. His stare is no-bullshit and instantly has my hackles rising. "You are responsible for Ms. Radcliff. According to her charts, you are the person to call in the event she ends up at the clinic. Just until she gets safely to her apartment," he hurries to say when he sees me about to open my mouth and say something. He shoots a soft look at Cass and then brings his eyes right back to me. "She had a nasty accident, Mr. Prince. She needs all the assistance she can get."
"What was the accident?" I can't stop myself from asking. As far as I know, willingly swallowing pills isn't exactly classified as an accident. It's premeditated. Plus, she and I will get to the bottom of me being the person to call if she gets hurt. I’m not her next of kin. This is bullshit.
His brows scrunch in confusion, his eyes flicking between Cass and me when he finally picks up on the tension between us. My eyes follow his, seeing hers just a bit rounder and slightly panicked. As if she didn't think about me asking such a question like that with everything else going on.
Standing to my feet, it takes everything I have not to wring her scrawny neck. "So, doc, what accident?"
"She didn't tell you?" He peers down at her, unable to catch her eyes because she's cowered in on herself and is looking at nothing else except the bedsheet she's picking at with her chipped nails.
Chipped? Cass is always runway ready.
"Oh, she told me a version, but I'd like to hear the truth if you don't mind."
His eyes flick toward her, and I can tell he's trying to will her with his mind to look at him. But it's no use, Cass won't be doing that. This situation just continues getting more fucked up.
Before he can utter a word, Cass explodes up from the bed in a flurry of activity. The doctor stumbles back from her abrupt movement, looking at her in disbelief, and then bringing his eyes up to me like it's a miracle or something. Cass flits about the room, and the only thing he can do is follow her movements in amazement.
I, on the other hand, want the truth, and I have a feeling she's being like this because she doesn't want me to actually get it. Pathetic.
"Tell me what accident, and then we will both get out of your hair."
By the time I say this, Cass is slipping into her heels like nothing is wrong. My eyes widen when I see just how put together she is in the length of time it takes to get the doctor to focus on the task at hand, instead of her.
Cassandra has been acting fishy for weeks now. Her visits are becoming more frantic, even though the guys turn her away. The last time she even came by the house was the night I found out about Maverick. Ever since then, it's been nearly complete radio silence.
Well, whatever the hell her problem is, it ends now. I can't keep dropping shit to fix hers. Especially when nothing was wrong, to begin with. Harloe was blazing mad when I left the apartment earlier, and I doubt she'll ever allow me to get close again because I ran out to help Cass.
If it weren't for the years Cass helped me after Harloe left Golden Oaks, I wouldn't have given another thought about it. But since she was there and did help me through it, albeit physically, then as some misplaced sense of responsibility, I felt like I needed to be here for Cass.
But no more. I can't keep getting wrapped up in Cass's antics just because she doesn't want me around Harloe. If Maverick is mine—which I'm starting to believe is a very, very good possibility—then I will be spending a lot of time with his mom, too. Not that it is any of Cass's business.
"Come on, Hunter," Cass croons from the doorway, looking back at me expectantly.
"No," I say, crossing my arms over my chest. "This, I gotta hear. So, doc, tell me."
The good doctor swallows visibly. "She fell from her dorm window, said she was trying to see something and just slipped. It's a miracle nothing is broken, and she has no scratches or bruising. The awning caught her fall, and she landed softly in the grass."
By the time he's done explaining, my mouth is hanging open in complete disbelief. Turning my head, I catch sight of Cass near the door looking as embarrassed as ever, cheeks turning a subtle shade of pink. She won't even look at me.