Heaven Beside You (33 page)

Jason set his jaw. They didn’t understand. It wasn’t some baggage he had that was the problem. His mother wasn’t all right. Cass didn’t love him. She wanted to use him. Well, he could manipulate back. “Tessa, I need you to buy some property for me.”

“What? Property? What are you talking about?”

“Potterville, West Virginia. It’s owned by a guy named Bill Wernick and everybody calls it the high pasture. Just give him whatever he asks.” Jason jammed the ring in his pocket and stalked out the door.

“Why?” Tessa demanded, hurrying outside after him.

“Because I need a bargaining chip.”

“Jason, this is a really bad idea,” Brian said. He passed Tessa in the driveway. “You really don’t want to do that.”

“It’s the only thing I can do,” Jason snapped, lengthening his strides as he neared his car. He pulled out his phone and dialed his office. “Jody, I need the first flight to Pittsburgh on any airline, any seating. I’m going to be at the airport in half an hour. I need a car in Pittsburgh, too, and snow shoes. Just do it.” He shoved the phone back in his pocket.

“Jason, I have to advise you not to run off like this.” Tessa trotted alongside him.

“Are you speaking as my sister or as my lawyer?”

“Both. What do you want this property for?”

“I’m gonna let Cassie use it as long as she…” Jason couldn’t finish his own sentence.

“As long as she lets you use her,” Brian said.

Tessa gasped. “Jason, you can’t. It’s illegal, it’s immoral, it’s totally scummy— Ow!” She’d stumbled as her heel caught in a crack in the drive and Brian caught her.

Jason jerked open the door of his car. “Just buy the property. I want to own it by the time I land in Pittsburgh.” He slammed the door and revved the engine, peeled out of Connie’s driveway.

Cass sat on the couch, immobilized. Any progress she’d made at pulling herself together had been shot to hell by three massive blows.

Yesterday Gretta’s package arrived. Cass had opened it, and set it on the table, unable to look at it or look away. She couldn’t even summon the energy to open the one-pound bag of M&Ms Gretta had included.

Then, last night at sunset a massive winter storm had howled over the mountain, dumping four feet of snow in six hours. She’d called her parents before they got the state troopers to pull her out. According to them, a seven-foot wall of snow hid her road and the temperature drop after the storm had frozen it to a solid block of ice. It might require a backhoe to tear down. If she wanted out at all, she would have to climb. By that time her fire, unattended since the arrival of the package, was nothing but embers. When she’d fallen asleep in the middle of
Pinocchio
, the glowing coals were just ash.

This morning, she woke up already running for the bathroom. As she’d washed her face, she’d remembered today was the day of the Grammys, which brought on another round of dry heaves. She’d turned on the television, wrapped herself up in the blanket, stared at the screen and hadn’t moved since. Now it was nearly ten PM.

The Grammys were leading up to the rock album of the year. She’d been studying the crowd shots, trying to catch sight of Jason. So far, she’d managed to spot Brian’s blond head and Marc’s brown hair, but not Jason. She felt queasy and light headed. If she still felt like this in the morning she was going to have to let them come get her. She’d managed to keep down only a glass of water and a slice of dry toast all day.

Outside, there were crunching noises. The bears should all be hibernating, and even the wolves weren’t stupid enough to be out in this weather. Stupid wolves didn’t bother her much. Rabid ones were a problem. A sick one might get enough height from the snow banks, break through one of the windows and attack. Could she deal with a rabid wolf in her condition? Doubtful.

She rolled off the couch and crawled to the office because she didn’t think she could stand up. Her shotgun leaned beside the desk, and she kept the shells in the desk drawer. As she loaded the shells, she thought of another possibility. It could be a human predator. Everyone knew she was up here alone and trapped in.

Too much A&E. She had to stop watching those shows about serial killers.

She pulled herself to her feet and looked out the front window.

A person waded through the snow about twenty feet from her door. He was tall, wearing a parka with a hood that shadowed his face, and was equipped with snowshoes. As she watched, he gained another five feet. She could call the troopers, but it would take them forty minutes to get here. Instead, she shoved open the door, letting it bang against the side of the house.

“I don’t know who you are, but I suggest you turn right back around and leave. I’ve got a shotgun here and I know which end is which,” she shouted. She racked the gun and sighted down the barrel. All the strength had drained from her legs, so she leaned against the wall, bracing the barrel against the door jam. If she fired, the recoil would knock her on her ass.

“Cassie?” The figure floundered forward another step and stopped, shoved back his hood.

No wonder she hadn’t seen Jason on television. “Jason?”

He held out a hand. “Look, I know you’re pissed, but could you put the gun down?”

Cass lowered the gun as he continued to struggle toward the door. When he got to the step she reached down and helped him inside. She fell into his arms. He felt so warm and solid. Inexplicably here. He kissed the top of her head.

“Come on, let’s go inside,” he murmured.

All the grief, fear and anger she’d numbed herself against for the past three weeks spilled over, and she shoved herself away from him. “How dare you come here, after what you said? The way you left here. You should know you’re not welcome. How did you even get here?”

Jason closed the door and bent, unlaced his snowshoes. “Same as last time, but I don’t think the rental company is going to be very happy with me. There’s a Buick LeSabre sticking out of a snowdrift at the end of the road. I hope nobody plows into it from behind.”

Cass stomped up the stairs. “What makes you think you can even come here anymore?”

“I have an offer for you.”

“An offer?” She walked across the room to the table and leaned on it to keep from falling over.

“I bought that land.”

She frowned. Her head was pounding. “What land?”

“The pasture where we got stuck.”

That
land? “Why? Isn’t it enough to ruin me emotionally, you have to ruin my business too?” she shrieked, which hurt her head, but she drew some satisfaction from the way it made Jason flinch.

“No, I have an offer for you.” He closed the living room door behind him, glancing around the room. His gaze fell on the fireplace. “
Bella
, your fire’s gone out,” he murmured.

“Forget about the stupid fire.” Twisting her features, she battled against tears.

* * * *

“You never let your fire go out.”
Ruin me emotionally
, she’d said.
Ruin me.

She looked awful. Her hair had escaped its braid and frizzed around her too-pale face. The expression in her eyes seemed almost feverish and the bones of her face stood out more than he remembered. Suddenly, every moment they’d shared, from the instant he’d set eyes on her, to walking through the door just now, flooded him. Every kiss, touch, every sweet sigh. The memories assailed him like a high wind peeling back layers of snow and rock, revealing the geological record of his soul. This information didn’t match what he’d been thinking for the past couple of weeks. “And you’re wearing my sweater.”

“You left it here.” She folded her arms beneath her breasts.

He’d never unpacked. The bag he’d brought home sat in the closet, where he’d dropped it.

“Is there something you came here for? Because I was busy.”

Behind him on the TV, Steven Tyler announced nominees at the Grammys. “I see that,” he said, narrowing his eyes at her.

“Are you going to tell me why you bought that property out from under me?” she demanded. She clutched the table behind her.

“Shouldn’t you light a fire? It’s cold in here.” He shrugged off his coat and draped it across the back of the couch. Her place was a mess, and the air held a distinct chill not entirely due to the glare she’d focused on him. A nearly finished painting leaned against the wall sideways, like a window that had fallen over but kept displaying the same view. Her easel sat against the far end of the couch facing the dining room with a canvas on it.

“Shut up about the goddamn fire,” Cass snapped. “I’m just not that worried about making you comfortable.”

Jason’s jaw tightened. He needed to pull out of this maudlin mood. This woman didn’t love him no matter how much his mother thought she did. “I have a business proposition.”

“Which is?”

“I’ll give you the right to use the land if you’ll just—” His throat spasmed. What if she said no? What if she threw him out at the point of that shotgun leaning on the wall behind him? What if his mother was right? “If you’ll just keep pretending to love me the way you have been.”

Her face went paler.

“I’ll only come here in the winter,” he said. “I won’t interrupt your regular season. I’ll be discreet. No one in town will ever know I’m here.”

“Pretend?” she shrieked. “What do you mean, pretend? What is this, high school? Maybe you’d like to try going steady in secret?” She grabbed something out of the box behind her and threw it at him.

He flinched as the bag of M&Ms hit his shoulder and split open, showering candy around the room. “No, I thought it would be easier this way.”

“For who? You want me to be available to you whenever you want to scratch your itch?”

“That’s not what I want.” He wanted things to go back to the way they were. Hanging out in her house playing at a relationship, but this time he wanted it to be real.

“You want me to be your whore,” Cass screeched. She snatched something else out of the box and threw it at him. With a gasp, she tried to grab it back.

Jason grabbed for the small box. It bounced off his fingers twice, turning in the air over his hands like a slow motion camera shot, before he caught it. Cass darted forward and tried to whip it away, but he lifted it out of her reach. Her eyes looking up at the box were panicked. He opened his hands to see what she so desperately wished he hadn’t caught and stared at the box stupidly. “This is a home pregnancy test,” he said when he could understand the writing on the side.

“It’s mine.” She reached for the box, not meeting his eyes.

“The test or the baby?”

“There might not be a baby.” An arm wrapped across her stomach in a protective gesture, she stared at him, looking utterly miserable.

“But you want to be sure. Is it mine?”

She slapped him, spun on her heel, stalked to the table and leaned against it.

The imprint of her fingers was probably as visible as it felt. He didn’t know why he’d said anything so cruel. Of course it was his. Theirs.

He studied the slope of her shoulders as she huddled there, held up by the table. When Connie had been carrying Colton, she’d been sick for the first seven months. Pale and weak, throwing up every day. Eleanor hadn’t fared much better when she’d had her kids. Annamaria had been lucky with her first, but two and three had been bad. His mother swore Callisto babies were hard on the body. Cass looked so pale and weak. He stepped behind her and put his hands on her shoulder. “
Preciosa
, are we pregnant?”

“We are not. I am. You never wanted my baby.” She jerked away from him.

“You said you would give it up.”

“Well, maybe I lied about that then. After all, you lied to me.” She shuffled toward the hall and stopped. In front of her, a painting sat on an easel, and she tried to block his view.

He walked over to study it. The image looked so alive, he expected to see his fingers moving across the strings as he sat on her couch with his bare feet propped up to the fire. If he were sitting at the table, it would fit perfectly with the rest of the room and appear as if he sat on the couch, playing guitar.

Cass, who slumped in the kitchen door wearing his sweater, had painted
him
. Face turned to the side, she now studied the floor.
You aren’t stupid, Jason
, his mother had said.
You know when someone loves you, you just can’t accept it.

“You love me, don’t you?” he asked.

Cass shook her head, but wouldn’t look up, and chewed her lip in a gesture he recognized well.

“I love you,” he said.

Her head jerked up. “Do you love me, or are you avoiding a potential paternity suit? I’m not going to let you charm me and lie to me again.”

“Lie to you?”

“About your dad. Oh poor pitiful me, my papa walked out when I was just a baby. Come to bed and make me feel better.”

Jason cringed. He’d done a great job covering his tracks on that one. “Cassie, it was true. I was lying when I said I’d lied about it. I was afraid you’d sell the story to the tabloids. Nobody outside my family knew. Until today.”

“What?” Her eyes looked a little too crossed to be healthy.

“My mother blurted it out in front of the whole band. My dad did walk out when I was a kid. I wanted to be completely honest with you, but as soon as I was, I got scared that you hadn’t been honest with me.”

“So the kettle decided the pot must be black.” Eyes sparking with anger, she folded her arms.

He shrugged and stared at the floor. This was so far off the script he didn’t know where to go next. “I made a lot of dumb mistakes. I can make up for them.”

“Why?”

“Because you are everything I ever wanted. Exactly the way you are.” He met her eyes. Her arms were hanging a little looser. Maybe in time they would open again to welcome him. He reached in his pocket. By some miracle the ring he’d dropped in there in Los Angeles had made it all the way across the country and up her driveway. “Will you marry me, Cassandra,
bella
?”

Cass swayed on her feet. Her eyes tried to focus on a point somewhere near the tip of her nose. Then she listed to one side and started to fall, making no effort to catch herself.