Chapter 8

After a few days of working in the bar, I'm starting to get the hang of things. Cash is out running errands today, so I'm hustling around the bar getting an early jump on setting up for the evening crowd. And the whole time, I can't stop thinking about the time I've been spending with Cash. The memories of our nights together bring a smile to my face, not to mention an uncomfortable dampness to my panties. Everything with him has been so natural from the start. It's all been so easy with him. Maybe that should worry me since little in this life is ever really that easy, but for whatever reason, it doesn't. It just seems… right.

Despite the age difference between us, Cash and I connected on levels I didn't even know I had. I worried about that in the beginning, I'm not going to lie. But aside from being incredibly sexually compatible, we are compatible in so many other ways. We've got a lot in common, share a lot of the same interests, not to mention values and beliefs. I honestly never thought I could connect with another human being in all the different ways Cash and I have.

As incredible as things between us are going, I know there's a Zane-shaped shadow looming over it all. Cash does a good job of hiding it and not letting it affect us, but the situation with Zane continues to haunt him. I mean, how couldn't it? He's his son. I honestly can't imagine how much he must be hurting right now. I imagine any parent in his situation would be. But the question is, what can be done about it?

Cash is hesitant to approach Zane, not wanting to push him further away. And of course, Zane is being Zane—petulant, pouty, and childish. Honestly, I don't know what I ever saw in him to begin with. When we first started talking, he was just… different. He seemed kind. Considerate. Thoughtful. I thought we shared similar interests and values. He genuinely seemed like a good guy. It all changed once I got out here.

We actually have very little in common. We don't share much in the way of interests and hobbies like he led me to believe. And his constant pressure for sex was a complete one-eighty from the guy I'd originally been talking to. The guy who said he understood wanting to wait until it felt right. He never tried to force himself on me or anything like that, and he never hit me—which is why his actions the other day were so surprising—but he acted like I owed him sex. In the short time I lived with him, Zane became somebody I didn't know. He became a monster.

But my issues with Zane shouldn't impact Cash's relationship with his son. And Zane shouldn't be such an idiot to let what happened between us come between him and his dad. Especially when what he's so upset about doesn't bear any resemblance to reality. He's pissed about something that didn't happen. I know Cash doesn't think this is my fault—and I know it's not—but I still can't help but feel that I bear some bit of responsibility for it. It's irrational and maybe silly, but I can't stop thinking about it.

As I finish setting up the bar, I try to shut my mind down. Try to focus on something—anything—else. The whole situation is depressing me. But as my brain keeps circling around the situation, a thought occurs to me. That thought then gives me an idea that, although it makes me nervous, seems like the right thing to do. It might be the only thing that I can do to help bridge this divide between father and son.

"What the fuck do you want?"Zane asks.

"We need to talk."

"We have nothing to say to each other."

He stands in the doorway of his apartment, his face stony as he glares at me. My stomach is fluttering as hard as my heart and my throat is dry. I try to swallow down my fear. Confrontation has never been my strong suit, and I've always tried to avoid it whenever possible. But this is something I have to do.

"You might not have anything to say, but I do. So, you can listen," I tell him. "Now, are you going to let me in?"

Zane stares at me for a minute then sighs dramatically and opens the door, letting me into his apartment. I walk into the living room and fold my arms over my chest as I glance around. It's clear that Zane has spent the last week or so in the bottom of a bottle. Empty pizza boxes, Chinese food containers, and empty beer bottles and cans litter the coffee table, with the debris overflowing onto the ground around the couch. The air is stale and musty, and looking at him, I'd say that he hasn't bathed in a few days. At least.

Zane scoops up a half-empty bottle of beer and drops heavily onto the couch, looking back at me with eyes that are bloodshot and watery. He takes a long swallow then burps.

"That's classy," I say.

"Whatever," he says. "So? What the fuck do you want?"

"I want you to talk to your father and sort this out."

"And why would I do that?"

"Because he's your father."

He scoffs. "Didn't stop him from fucking my girlfriend."

"I'm not your girlfriend. I broke up with you, remember?"

"So, this is all just some big coincidence?"

I roll my eyes and almost shout. "What else would it be? You never told me anything about your father. And you didn't tell him anything about me. We had no idea each other even existed, let alone secretly run around behind your back. Use your head, Zane."

He takes another swallow of his beer, his eyes still burning with anger… and hurt. But I can see the wheels in his head turning as he thinks about my words. He understands what I'm saying and is logical enough to know it's true. There is no way we could have been carrying on behind his back when Cash and I were completely ignorant of each other. To think otherwise is just plain stupid or a case of willful ignorance.

But I also know that emotions have a way of clouding the real issues and making a person disregard logic. I know him well enough to understand that seeing his father getting something he wanted bothers Zane more than anything. The fact that I've been sleeping with Cash when I refused to sleep with him is the biggest issue for him. That's what's bothering him the most.

"Your father doesn't deserve to be treated like this?—"

"I don't deserve to be treated like this."

"Zane, you and I are not a good fit. You can't tell me you don't see that," I say. "And let's not forget what started this whole thing. You terrified me the night I ran out!"

"You know I'd never hurt you, Cassie."

"No. I don't know that," I retort. "Especially not when you came at me like you did at your father's place. If he hadn't stepped in, I really thought you might have. You were out of your mind, Zane, and you really scared me."

He shrugs. "I wouldn't have hurt you. Believe me or not, I don't care anymore."

"And that's fine. Hate me if you want," I tell him. "But Cash hasn't done anything wrong. None of this is his fault and I think you need to talk to him. I think you need to straighten this out. He really wants a relationship with you. It's important to him."

"And what he wants should matter to me?"

"It should because you want a relationship with him too," I say. "It's why you went looking for him in the first place. You never told me about him, but you did tell me that. Don't let this thing between us keep you from having a relationship with your father."

He frowns and looks away as he drains the last of his bottle. Zane is silent for a few minutes before he finally turns his gaze back to me, his face is stony, and his eyes are burning with anger. It's immediately clear that he's not in a place where he can hear me. Or rather, he's not in a place yet where wants to hear me. He's still so consumed by his anger that he's refusing to see logic. Where he's letting his emotions and his rage about what happened between us get in the way of something he's always wanted—a relationship with his father.

"Is that it?" he asks. "Is that all you wanted to say?"

I shake my head and lower my gaze to the ground. "Yeah. That's all I wanted to say."

"Then you said it."

"I guess I did."

"Good," he says. "Now, get out. I don't want you here anymore. I can't even stand looking at you, Cassie. You make me sick."

"I'm sorry you feel that way."

"Whatever. Just get the fuck out."

"Zane—"

"I said get the fuck out."

Turning around, I head for the door. At least I tried. Before I open the door, Zane calls to me so I stop and turn back around.

"Why?" he asks.

"Why what?"

"Why were you willing to fuck him and not me?"

I shrug. The answer isn't going to make him happy, but it's the plain and simple truth. And right now, I think the truth will do a lot more for him than trying to sugarcoat a lie.

"It just felt right," I tell him. "And it never did with you."