Disclaimer: These characters (Cassie and the Circle, etc.) were originally created by L.J. Smith. They all belong to her creative genius. However, the plot of this story and a few new characters are my own creations. I'm not making any money off of this, so please don't sue me.
A/N: Sorry it's been so long since I've updated, but I've been working on my own original fiction this past year and that has taken much of my focus. If you are interested in reading some of my original stories, please let me know. If enough people are interested, I may end up self-publishing and I can send you the link. Otherwise I'll be trying to find a publisher the hard way (query letters/agents, etc.).
Shout out to all the reviewers, especially Ellen, who reviewed twice, trying to get my lazy butt into gear, and to Corrupted Angel, who is a Nick lover in need of a serious fix (I totally felt your pain). Faefay, who's been with this series since the old days when I had hardly any reviews, and Mystical-Magickal-Wytch, Coletterby, Alecks454, Tatianna, tvdxobssessed, Rockarosalie, A, Deegee915, Danistar14, Nikkiii, and everyone who has been waiting way too long—Thanks for sticking with me. So here's to you all. Thanks for taking the time to read and review!
"It's no use," Melanie said. "I'm not seeing anything here." She pushed a stack of old crates back against the wall of the old boathouse on pier 26. She, Laurel, Adam and Cassie had been scouring the place for clues for at least an hour.
Over one month had passed since Diana had disappeared with Bastian and they were still at square one. They had no idea how to find Diana. They didn't even really know where she was. So how on Earth were they going to get her back?
They had absolutely nothing to work with. Nada.
Their lack of progress was taking a toll on everyone. The most recent Circle meetings had become tense and difficult. Everyone was upset and frustrated and more often than not, terrible arguments erupted.
Faye and Adam had screamed at each other earlier in the evening until Cassie had interrupted with an idea. She had suggested going back to the boathouse on the pier to look for signs of a portal. Bastian and Diana had gone somewhere, hadn't they? So how did they leave? Only Laurel, Melanie and Adam had volunteered to come with.
"There's got to be something here," insisted Adam. He was standing on the far side of the room, running his hands across the rotted walls. "Anything…"
The four of them continued to push aside crates and dust away cobwebs in the hopes of a clue, but it was fruitless.
There was nothing there. No sign of any sort of portal. It was just an old boathouse.
"Should we call it a night?" Laurel asked.
Melanie and Cassie nodded. Adam didn't say a word. He stormed out of the boathouse ahead of them and headed down the pier.
Cassie hurried after him and caught up with him at his jeep. He was already in the driver's seat, about to pull away.
"Hey, wait!" she called.
He looked up at her through the open driver's window, his stormy blue eyes intense. For a moment, neither of them said anything.
"Adam, I'm sorry…" she began. But the words sounded so inadequate.
She could feel the guilt building up inside, so heavy that it threatened to suffocate her at any moment.
This is all my fault.
Diana was gone. And she was responsible.
Adam let out a breath and rattled his fingers against the steering wheel.
She wanted to reach out to him-to hold him, to make things right between the two of them, but he seemed so far away.
If she tried to touch him, he might resist.
"I understand if you hate me," she said. "I know I'm the one to blame for all of this."
"I don't blame you, Cassie." He had tried to put some emotion behind his words, but they still came out sounding hollow and forced.
She stared at him.
"I don't," he insisted.
Cassie wished she believed him. She took a step back.
"See you around," he called, as he put the jeep in reverse and sped off into the night.
She watched the red tail lights disappear and then slumped against Melanie's car with a sigh.
Cassie saw the light on in the Armstrong garage as soon as Melanie pulled onto Crowhaven Road.
Nick had been curious about the portal idea, but seemed reluctant to check it out with Adam in tow. With everyone's emotions raw, Adam and Nick had been bumping heads even more than usual.
It was hard for anyone to avoid an argument these days, especially with Adam, who was completely overwrought with his emotions. So she didn't fault Nick for staying in tonight rather than helping them with their search. However, she might as well let him know that he didn't miss anything.
"Can you drop me off at Deb and Nick's?" she asked Melanie.
"Sure," Melanie yawned. She and Laurel said goodnight as they dropped her off and waved as they pulled out of the driveway.
Moments later, Cassie stepped into the dimly lit garage.
"Hey," she said.
"Hey, yourself," Nick replied. He was standing by the workbench that lined one of the concrete walls. His faded jeans and t-shirt were smudged with grease and his dark hair was ruffled.
"How's it going?" she asked. She sauntered over to the workbench and propped a hip against it.
"I've been better," he sighed, his dark eyes giving her a brief once-over. Then he paused. "I've been worse, too, I guess."
She nodded. Although it had been over a month since he had been shot, Cassie knew that hadn't healed all the way. Not that Nick would ever admit to being in pain or anything.
"I take it the pier was a bust tonight?"
"Yeah. Another completely useless idea." Her voice was bitter.
"Hey," he said, "don't be so hard on yourself. It wasn't useless. It was a shot. Better than nothing."
"Was it really? Because sometimes I think doing nothing might be better."
"You don't mean that."
"Yeah, actually, I do," Cassie replied, and suddenly all of her frustrations were tumbling out. "At least then I haven't failed again. That's all I do—let people down. Everything that's happened—it's all my fault."
"That's not true." He shook his head.
"Yes, it is. Don't you see?" she cried. "If it hadn't been for me, Diana wouldn't be missing in the first place. Logan Bainbridge wouldn't have died. You wouldn't have been shot!"
"No," Nick said. He leaned forward, grabbing her wrist and forcing her to look at him. "If it hadn't been for you, I would be dead." Those polished mahogany eyes stared into hers. "So I want you to stop."
"Stop?"
"Yeah. Stop blaming yourself. It's not your fault, so you need to stop thinking that it is." He reached out and smoothed the tears off her cheeks. "OK?"
Cassie wasn't convinced, but she nodded anyway.
One corner of Nick's mouth turned up in a smile. She looked at him curiously.
"Sorry. I think I smudged your face." He held up his grease-stained hands.
Cassie bent to gaze in the side mirror of the mustang. Sure enough there were a couple of gray streaks across her cheeks. She looked like she'd been playing in a chimney.
She couldn't help the giggle that burst out of her next, and before she knew it she was crying and laughing at the same time. Nick was laughing, too, all stoicism set aside for the moment. He handed her a clean rag and she rubbed her face with it gently. Most of it came off.
Nick took the rag and put it with his tools. He went back to tinkering with whatever contraption was on the workbench.
"Nick?"
"Hm?"
"There's something I have to ask you…" her voice trailed off.
He didn't look up, his hands busy with a screwdriver and some auto part. "Yeah?"
"That night when you—when you were shot," she stuttered, forcing the awkward words out. "You said there was something that you needed to tell me. But you never got the chance."
Nick froze, the screwdriver still in his hand. A lone muscle in his jaw tensed. He stared down at the shiny array of pieces in front of him.
The garage was silent. She could have heard a pin drop.
"What was it that you wanted to tell me?"
She was pushing him, and she knew it. But this question had haunted her for too many sleepless and troubled nights. She had to know.
Nick was quiet for so long that she had almost given up on a response. She had just turned to go away when she heard it, his voice low and hushed, practically a whisper. "You know why."
"No, actually, I don't-" she began, but he cut her off.
"I love you, damn it!"
Cassie's heart thudded heavily in her chest. Did he just say what I think he did?
Part of her was stunned. To hear the words out loud, coming from Nick, it was astonishing. But part of her questioned this. Hadn't she known, somewhere deep down inside, that this was the answer? Wasn't that why she so desperately wanted to hear it?
"I love every damn thing about you," Nick said, tossing the screwdriver aside, his icy façade in tatters. "You're sweet but you're tough. Your heart is in the right place, but you make mistakes. You care about people. You're smart. You saved my life…"
Cassie shook her head and held up a hand for him to stop. It was all too much. He made her sound so special, so good, when she knew that wasn't true. "Nick, please…"
"Yeah, I know," he sighed. "I shouldn't have even tried. You're too good for me. And you and Conant have some sort of… I don't know… but I don't win. I get it."
Cassie's eyes flooded with tears, yet again. Nick shouldn't be talking like this. Can't he see? Doesn't he know what a great guy he is?
Nick Armstrong was one hell of a catch. Any girl would be lucky to have him. And he had died saving her life. She was the one who didn't deserve him.
"Shut up," she said, before she could stop herself.
"What?"
"I said shut up," she repeated, as she walked up to him.
He looked down at her in bewilderment, his dark hair falling into his eyes.
"Now kiss me." Her blue eyes stared into his, willing him to react.
He opened his mouth to protest. Cassie pressed one finger to his lips and silenced him.
"Just kiss me," she said.
Cassie didn't quite know what she was thinking at that moment, but everything inside of her was aching to feel his mouth on hers.
Just one kiss, she thought, as his arms wrapped around her and his warm lips pressed against hers. But then all of her thoughts began to melt away and she felt herself becoming lost in the comfort that was Nick.
Nick. The one who always believed in her. Always took care of her. The one who died for her.
The one who loved her and only her.
Somewhere inside of her, she felt it.
I love you, too, she thought.
But she couldn't say it aloud. Not yet, anyway. She was too torn; too conflicted.
There was someone else that she cared about deeply, too. She had to admit that. And it was because of her that Adam was hurting so badly right now.
The guilt and anguish she'd kept bottled up for the past month were threatening to explode. She kissed Nick harder, more passionately.
She wanted to forget. She wanted to forget everything, but Nick.
"Make love to me," she whispered.
Sunlight filtered in through the window blinds and streaked across the navy blue sheets.
Cassie blinked her eyes into focus. Then it hit her.
She wasn't at home. She and Nick had… well…
She could feel herself blushing when she thought about what they had done mere hours before. But they must have fallen asleep afterwards. She never meant to stay the night.
What time is it?
She caught sight of a digital alarm clock to her right. It was almost nine AM.
Cassie's heart pounded in her chest. She had to get out of here. What if her mother noticed she hadn't come home last night?
As quietly as she could, Cassie disentangled herself from a sleeping Nick, and hurried out of bed to find her scattered clothing. She quickly dressed and headed over to the door.
She opened it a crack and peeked out into the hall. The light was off and it was empty, with all the remaining doors closed. She breathed a quick sigh of relief.
Deborah's parents had been out late the night before. She supposed they were still sleeping off their booze. Hastily, she made her way down the old pinewood staircase, flinching every time a step creaked.
She almost sighed with relief when she reached the front hall. She was just reaching for the front doorknob when a voice cried out.
"What are you doing here?"
Cassie spun around to see Deborah's mom walking out of the living room.
"I said, what are you doing here?" Mrs. Armstrong didn't look or sound particularly happy. Years of heavy drinking had prematurely aged her face, which was wearing a harsh sneer.
Panic threatened to overwhelm Cassie. "I-I… um," her voice trailed off. She couldn't think of a single plausible excuse. Her brain was completely useless.
What if she knows the truth? What if she knows I've been having hot, passionate sex with her nephew all night?
Will she tell my mother? Will she tell everyone else?
Oh, God. She could just die. Right here. Right now. If Bastian showed up at this moment, she would have given up her soul and disappeared with him willingly.
"Relax, Mom. I thought I told you Cassie was staying the night," Deborah's voice cut in. The biker sauntered down the stairs and stood next to Cassie.
"No, Deborah. I'm pretty sure you didn't." Her mother shook her head.
"OK. So maybe I forgot to mention it." Deb shrugged her shoulders defensively.
Deborah's mom eyed Cassie yet again. "Next time, be sure to ask."
"We will," Deb groaned, as if this was a royal pain.
Both girls watched as Deborah's mom headed down the hall to the kitchen. They could hear the clinking of ice cubes into a glass and the rustling of bottles.
Mrs. Armstrong was starting earlier than usual today.
Meanwhile, Deborah was grinning at Cassie like the Cheshire Cat.
"It's not what you think," Cassie lied. It sounded weak, even to herself.
"Sure, Cassie. Whatever you say."
Deb was still grinning. And she knew damn well what had happened last night.
"Look, just promise me you won't tell anyone, alright?"
She didn't want Adam, Faye, or any of the others knowing about this. The last thing they needed was more drama in the Circle right now. And it was no one else's business anyway.
"Don't worry, your little secret is safe with me," Deborah replied.
Cassie wrenched the front door open, eager to escape Deborah's knowing eyes and gleeful smirk.
"Oh, Cassie, one last thing," the biker called.
What now? Cassie thought, turning back around.
Deborah's grin was even larger than before.
"Your shirt is on backwards."