Ivy, page 41
She’d hardly slept last night. After leaving the manor yesterday, she’d driven aimlessly, not sure what to think. The scene from the manor had replayed in her mind countless times. Her emotions had swayed in every direction. Anger. Shock. Hurt.
Disappointment.
She was just so disappointed. Mostly in herself.
Cassia had thought Edwin would take her side, not believe his sister’s bullshit. Nope.
She’d assumed Ivy had forgotten about making her life hell. Nope.
She’d hoped to finish out her year at Aston while living at the manor. Nope. Nope. Nope.
So fucking disappointing.
Where was she going to go? The money in front of her would keep her in this room through finals week. Part of the reason she’d chosen this hotel was because of the low nightly price advertised on the neon sign outside.
Except even if this was her cheapest option at the moment, after she spent her cash, she’d be even shorter on funds with another semester to go. It would be difficult to pay for a deposit on a new rental. That was if she could even find a room for the next semester.
Thud. Thud.
She clenched her teeth, pressing her hands to her temples.
Between the neighbors and the musty smell in this room, Cassia’s headache was becoming unbearable. She’d slept on top of the bedding last night, fully clothed. She didn’t trust the sheets. She hadn’t eaten much in the past day either. Breakfast, lunch and dinner had come from the hotel’s vending machine.
All she wanted was one of Francis’s delicious meals, a hot shower and a quilt to sleep under that wouldn’t give her lice. Cassia had tried to sleep earlier this afternoon, except the moment she closed her eyes, she’d pictured Josh’s face. She’d heard Ivy’s lies. She’d seen Edwin’s doubts.
Cassia took her phone from her pocket and stared at the black screen. She’d shut it off yesterday as she rushed to her car. She’d left it off as she’d driven around. And when she’d finally settled into this exact spot—legs crossed on the bed with her back pressed against the thin pillows—she’d turned it on.
Edwin had left her message after message. He’d flooded her with texts. He’d sounded worried in the voicemails. Last night, she’d been so tempted to call him that she’d shut off her phone before crying herself to sleep.
Should she call him? What would she even say? Until she figured that out, she was stuck.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
“Stuck with the sexual dynamo next door,” she muttered. Her backpack slumped on the foot of the bed, the textbooks spilling out.
She’d spent most of the day studying. Even if her life was in shambles, she refused to ruin her future. A degree was her ticket to freedom. Her ticket to a new life. Her uncle had pulled plenty of strings to get her into Aston and she wouldn’t waste this chance.
What if she called Uncle Henry? He’d done everything she’d asked of him. He’d kept her identity a secret. He’d let her come to his university and had kept his distance. And when Josh had contacted him, Henry hadn’t told him about Cassia’s whereabouts.
Could she stay with her uncle for a few months?
“Last resort. I’ll call him if I can’t find something else.”
Behind her, the thumping stopped. She tensed, waiting for it to restart. But the silence stayed.
“Oh, thank God,” she breathed. Then she twisted to talk to the wall. “Please be done screwing. I’m begging you.”
Cassia unfolded her legs and stood from the bed, collecting her money and stowing it in her wallet. Then she reached for the remote. Maybe she could find something mindless to watch before falling asleep.
She’d just hit the power button when a knock sounded at her door. She gasped. Either the couple next door was here to invite her to join their naked escapades or a serial killer was about to turn her coral hair into his own personal wig.
The knock came again, more like pounding this time.
“Shit,” she hissed, her heart racing as she tiptoed across the room, holding her breath as she peeked through the peephole.
Not a serial killer. Not her neighbors.
How had he found her?
“Open this door, Cassia.”
She gulped, then slid the chain free and flipped the deadbolt, stepping back to let a fuming Edwin storm inside.
“Where is your goddamn phone?” He marched to the bed and picked it up. “When I call, you fucking answer.”
Cassia stared unblinking, drinking him in. She’d never seen him like this, not even after Zain’s accident.
Oh, he was mad. And he looked like hell. The purple rings beneath his bloodshot eyes looked more like bruises than dark circles. His hair was sticking up at all angles and he was in the same clothes he’d been wearing yesterday—a pair of jeans and a black hoodie. He wasn’t even wearing a coat.
He was a mess.
A stunning mess.
Edwin fisted his hands on his narrow hips, staring at her for a long moment, his chest heaving.
Thud. Thud.
Her neighbors were back at it again.
Edwin looked to the ceiling, his nostrils flaring. Then he moved to the bed, pounding his fist against the wall.
The thudding stopped. A woman’s muffled laugh came next. Then thud, thud, thud.
“For fuck’s sake.” Edwin flew into action, picking up Cassia’s backpack, shoving everything inside before zipping it closed. He moved to her suitcase on the table next, stuffing the few dirty items she’d folded beside it inside. Once it was zipped, he marched to the bathroom, returning moments later with her toiletry case in one hand.
All while she stood frozen, mouth agape.
“What else?” he asked, scanning the room. When she didn’t answer, he took a step closer. “Cassia, what else?”
“How did you find me?”
“Really?” He gave her a flat look, then set the toiletry case on the bed and crossed his arms over his chest. “That’s your question? Christ. I love you, Red, but if you don’t get your stuff together so we can get the fuck out of this hotel, I’m going to lose my shit. Pack. Now.”
Wait. Did he just say he loved her?
“Cassia! Let’s go!” he bellowed. “I saw a cockroach in the hallway the size of my shoe. We’re leaving. Now. Get your coat on.”
She flew into action, rushing to slide on her coat and sling her backpack over a shoulder. Then she hurried to the bathroom to make sure he’d gotten everything. When she returned to the main room, he had her suitcase in one hand and her car keys in the other.
Without a word, he ripped the door open and stormed down the hallway.
Cassia surveyed the room one last time. Hopefully she’d never set foot in this building again. Then she jogged to follow Edwin.
She caught up to him in the stairwell winding to the first floor, where he shoved out the exit and walked straight to her Honda. “Where’s your car?” she asked.
This wasn’t the type of hotel where you left a Bentley parked in the lot for long.
“It’s being driven to my place.”
“By who?”
“His name is Sal.” Edwin took the backpack off her arm and tossed it in the trunk beside her suitcase. Then he slammed the lid closed. “He’s Ivy’s private investigator.”
“Oh.” So that was how he’d found her. Sal probably knew a lot about Cassia, didn’t he?
“Yeah. Oh.” Edwin’s mouth pursed in a thin line. “Get in.” He rounded the Civic to the driver’s side door.
“I could have just followed—”
He shut the door before she could finish talking. Clearly, Edwin wasn’t willing to leave her alone. So she went to the passenger seat and slid inside. The air was cold and her breath billowed as he turned the key. But he didn’t race to leave the hotel. Instead he blasted the defrost to thaw the windshield.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
She lifted a shoulder. “No.”
Could they go back in time to yesterday morning? She’d go with him to the library. Maybe she would have missed Josh entirely if she’d just gone with Edwin.
Edwin sighed, his anger deflating. He reached over, sliding his hand to the back of her neck, fitting it beneath her hair. Then his thumb stroked the column of her throat. “Don’t ever do that to me again. Please. You need space, fine. I’ll give it to you. But don’t you ever hide from me.”
Tears flooded her eyes. “Sorry.”
“If anything had happened to you . . .” He tugged her closer, pressing his forehead to hers. “Promise, Red. Never run from me.”
That was what she’d been doing for months. Running.
Just like her mother.
It was time to stop.
“Okay.”
Edwin kissed her forehead, his lips warm despite the frigid winter air outside. They lingered there, soft and still, until he let her go and put the car in reverse.
There were only two thawed circles on the glass, but Edwin drove anyway, ducking low until the glass cleared. By the time they’d made it close to Aston, the chill had left her bones. It returned the moment Edwin turned down a familiar road.
“I’m not going back to the manor,” she told him.
“No, you’re not.”
Out her window, Clarence Manor came into view. Beautiful. Glowing. Evil. “Then where are you taking me?”
“My place.” He didn’t so much as slow as he passed the iron gate.
Then four short blocks later, he turned into a narrow driveway, also blocked by a gate. He rolled down the Honda’s window, punching in the code, and as the gate opened, he steered them past a row of hedges to a courtyard shrouded with evergreens.
Ahead of them were two garage stalls. He parked the Honda in front of the left door.
When he’d told her he’d bought a place nearby, she’d expected a condo or a townhouse. But this was . . . huge. Of course, Edwin Clarence wouldn’t live in a dive like any normal student.
The three-story home stretched tall above the garages. The exterior lights illuminated the courtyard and a red-painted door. The brick façade was covered with leafless vines that crept all the way from the foundation to the roof.
“Stay here.” Edwin got out of the car and walked to the garage, opening a keypad she hadn’t noticed. He punched in a code, the garage door lifting, and then moments later, he eased the Honda inside and parked it beside the Bentley.
Without a word, he popped the trunk and began hauling her things across the spotless garage to the door that opened into the house.
“Are you coming?” he called.
Cassia sprang into action, hurrying to follow him inside.
The house stretched long, like it was the length of the entire block. It probably was. Edwin passed a sitting area, dropping her backpack on a round table, before taking the stairs against the far wall.
From the exterior, Cassia had expected a more traditional style inside, similar to the manor, with crown molding and intricately carved accents in the trim and doors. Outside, this house shared that historical look with the other properties in this area. But inside, it was all clean lines and modern touches.
Cables and steel posts formed the staircase’s railing. The hardwood floors were gray-washed. The walls were painted a stark white.
Edwin climbed past the second floor, rounding a landing and continuing straight to the third level. And when he flipped on the light, her jaw dropped.
This was his bedroom suite. The floor was open, stretching the entire length of the building. On the opposite end were floor-to-ceiling windows, and beams ran from one side to the other.
His massive bed rested in the center of the room. The gray covers were neatly made with a pile of pillows resting against the headboard. Two doors bracketed the bed, likely leading to a closet and en suite. Bookshelves framed a wide entertainment center.
It was larger than any bedroom she’d ever seen, including any at the manor. But it wasn’t the bed or the shelves or the artwork hung along the walls that captured Cassia’s attention.
It was the pile of suitcases in the center of the room.
Her suitcases.
“Those are my things.”
“Yep.” Edwin dropped her suitcase to the floor. “I didn’t have time to make room in the closet. I was too busy driving all over, trying to find you.”
She blinked. “Those are my things.”
“Yes, and after we talk, you can unpack them.” He dragged a hand through his hair. “If I missed something, I’ll go get it tomorrow.”
“You moved me out of the manor.”
“Did you want to live there?”
“No.”
“Didn’t think so.” Edwin’s irritation was still seeping through his tone. Or maybe he was just sleep deprived.
“You believed Ivy.” She wrapped her arms around her waist. As much as she wanted to take a shower and climb into that bed beside him, they had to talk. About yesterday. About Ivy. About Josh.
About everything.
“Is that why you didn’t answer my calls? Because you thought I picked Ivy’s side over yours?”
“Yes.” She lifted her chin, hoping to appear confident, when really, her doubts were eating her alive. What if Ivy had been telling the truth?
“I believe my sister.” Edwin went to the bed, slumping on its edge. “I’m not going to apologize for trusting her. Though I am sorry if you feel like I don’t have your back. Because I do. I always will.”
“You really believe her?”
He nodded. “I know she did some things that she shouldn’t have. I’m not defending her. But I know Ivy. If she’d done it, she’d have owned it. That’s her style. She likes to take credit. She owned up to having you investigated.”
Cassia tensed. “She had no right.”
“Agreed.” He nodded. “Though she promised me she didn’t read the investigator’s report.”
“Josh said one of my roommates called him. I highly doubt it was Elora. So how else would he have known where to find me? If it wasn’t your sister, then who?”
“Michael.”
“What? Michael?” Cassia shook her head. “That makes no sense. Why would Michael do something to hurt me? He’s my friend.”
“No, he is not. He probably did it to fuck with you. Maybe to drive a wedge between us. Maybe to piss off Ivy. Who the hell knows? But it wasn’t Ivy and she’s pretty sure it was Michael.”
“Or she’s saying that to deflect her guilt.”
“I can’t . . .” Edwin pinched the bridge of his nose. “Do you trust me?”
Cassia could have lied and told him no, if only to prove to herself that she’d managed to keep up the walls she’d worked so hard to build. But lying was pointless. Despite her efforts to guard her heart, Edwin held it in her hands.
“Yes,” she whispered.
“Then please believe me. I don’t know exactly why he did it, but Michael is just like my ex. He manipulates and lies.”
“So does your sister.”
He nodded. “Yeah, she does. But I would never hurt you. And I would not let my sister hurt you either.”
“What if you’re wrong? What if Ivy did this?”
Edwin locked his gaze with hers. “Then she’s dead to me.”
Maybe she still didn’t believe Ivy was innocent. But she did believe the absolute sincerity in Edwin’s voice.
“I’m sorry I ran,” she said. “That fight with Ivy. Seeing Josh. I didn’t know what else to do.”
“Next time, ask me.” Edwin stood and crossed the room, walking straight into her space. Then he wrapped his arms around her, holding her tight. “Just talk to me.”
“Okay.” She wrapped her arms around his waist, sinking into his embrace.
They clung to each other for minutes until any lingering frustration had melted away.
“I stink like that hotel room,” she murmured.
Edwin took her hand and led her into the bathroom, turning on the shower and giving her some time alone. Steam billowed from the bathroom when she returned to the bedroom, wrapped in a thick white towel.
She found Edwin in the closet, making space for her clothes.
Cassia wouldn’t claim the empty hangers and drawers. Not yet. First, they had to talk.
So she pulled on a clean pair of panties and one of Edwin’s T-shirts while he took his own shower. Then they settled into his bed, warm beneath the covers. Cassia hugged her pillow close as she lay sideways to face him.
Tired as she was, there would be no sleep. Not until she told him the truth.
“I haven’t seen Josh since I left Hughes.”
“Hughes. That’s where you went to school before?” he asked.
“Yes. That’s where I grew up. My father was a professor there.”
“And Josh?”
“Josh is my ex.” She swallowed hard. “And my father’s lover.”
forty-six
Cassia studied Edwin’s expression as her words sank in. Disbelief. Shock. Confusion.
Josh is my ex. And my father’s lover.
“What?” Edwin lifted off his pillow.
“I suppose the place to start is the beginning,” she said. “Josh and I dated for about two years. We met at a fraternity party. His fraternity. It was . . . normal. I don’t know how else to describe it. We had what I thought was a normal relationship. We hung out all the time. Normal boyfriend-girlfriend stuff. He introduced me to his parents. And I took him home to meet Dad. Everything was good. Then it wasn’t.”
Cassia had spent countless hours examining her relationship with Josh. Searching her memory for clues that she’d missed. Signs that she’d ignored. She still wasn’t sure when they’d started lying to her. Maybe from the start.
“I could feel our breakup coming. The last couple of months were awful. Josh and I fought a lot. He pulled away. I tried to talk to him about it but he called me clingy. He blamed his moods on school. He told me he needed some space to focus. I understood.”
It had been the spring semester of their junior year and Josh hadn’t been the only one busy with classes.
