The door opened to reveal an old man I didn’t recognize. He was bearded and wrinkled. He squinted at me in confusion. “You okay?”
I smiled quickly. “Yes. I was actually hoping to talk to Cassian. Is he around?”
“Cassian? You mean that mean little fucker who lives by the lake?”
I scraped my memory. Cassian did have a mean streak at times. But Cassian’s family had always been poor. There was no way they lived by the lake. “Cassian Stone?”
The old man opened the door a little wider, letting some of the light from inside reach my face. His eyes darted to my forehead, and then a look of understanding washed over his features. “Charli Rhodes?”
I nodded.
“It’s good to see you’re back home. But Cassian and his mother moved years ago. She remarried after…” he trailed off, smiling tightly. “Anyway, he lives by the lake now. But I hope you won’t mind me saying I think you’d do better to leave things with him alone. You look like a good girl, and he’s not—” The man paused, searching for the right words. “Cassian has lost his way since you two were kids.”
I thought about asking how the old man knew Cassian, except I decided it didn’t matter. I also knew I wasn’t planning to take his advice and leave Cassian alone. If anything, his words of warning only made me more determined to find him.2CassianThe world was on fire. Orange flame flowed up the walls like water. The ceiling seemed alive as smoke burrowed under the flames, making them pulse with a monstrous heartbeat. The air itself was pain—like every particle against my skin made me want to scream and run back outside.
But I went deeper into the house. I fought past curtains that were dripping bits of fabric that disintegrated into ash before they hit the ground. I shouldered through crumbling doors, coughing so hard from the smoke that I thought I was going to throw up my insides.
Then the wall beside me caved in. I put my arms up to shield myself, but the falling pillar caught me and pinned me to the ground.
“Cassian!”
I stirred, sucking in a surprised breath. For a moment, I thought I smelled smoke and burning skin, but it was just a remnant of my dream. I blinked, realizing where I was.
Class. Mrs. Peterson’s psychology class.
Mrs. Peterson was still glaring at me. She was thirty something, easy on the eyes, and had made it pretty clear that she was a certifiable cougar. A few guys from the football team claimed they’d hooked up with her, though I wasn’t sure I believed half of it.
I flashed a quick smile. “I was having a nice dream about you, Mrs. P. You stopped it right before the good part.”
Her cheeks reddened. A few of my braver classmates chuckled, but most looked like they wanted to hide.
“If you need more motivation to stay awake, maybe you could consider that you’re well on your way to failing. This isn’t rocket science, Cassian. It’s psychology. An elective class. The only kids who fail this are the ones who don’t try.”
“I’m not failing. I have a ‘D.’”
She crossed her arms. “And do you consider that a success?”
I was a lot of things. But I always thought it was a bitch move to make life hell for my teachers. I decided to stop being an ass and answer her honestly. “No,” I said.
She seemed satisfied with my response, which got her to lift her focus from me and direct it to the rest of the class. She went on about our test that was coming up, but my thoughts slid away and went back to what I’d been thinking of before I dozed off.
Charli Rhodes was back in Silver Falls.
The thought had sent ripples of fire through me every time it skidded across my brain. Logan said she was in his first period English class, too, so I knew the rumors were true.
I gripped the edge of my desk tight enough to make my fingers ache and my knee bounced restlessly.
She was back.
The bell finally rang, and we all filed out of class. Mrs. Peterson stopped me on my way out. “Cassian,” she said. “Hold on a sec.”
I waited by the door. Once we were by ourselves, she got up and moved to stand in front of me. She smelled like apple-scented shampoo, and it occurred to me that if I wanted, I probably could screw around with her.
Nah.
I waited, keeping my eyes on hers and not on her cleavage, even though she was short enough that it was on full display for me.
“I wanted to tell you that I know a little bit about your past. I completely understand how traumatic childhood events can shape individuals, and if you ever want to talk ab—”