17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17

S he's a fucking dream.

That's all that I could think of while I drank my coffee at the kitchen table. That Cassie Cohen was a fucking dream. I reminisced of the night prior as the bitter tannins of black coffee pulled at the sides of my mouth.

We had moved in a fashion that blended the lines between sexual passion and aftercare. Stretched underneath me on her back, Cassie cradled the sides of my face, quietly demanding my attention while I pushed inside of her with utmost patience. Her legs had turned pliant, spread wide and gently bouncing with each flex of my hips, and I massaged the insides of her thighs with soft squeezes of my hands. Our foreheads touched. We whimpered in each other's ears. She kissed me deeply, eventually wrapping all of her limbs around me in a full-body embrace, and we were simply connected motion. A beautiful rocking that evoked a high that enveloped us in the color of a sunset until she plead for us to roll, and then she was situated above me. I watched her come apart at the seams as she rode me, and she took me with her.

I could have stayed in that bed, stomach starved yet sated by her touch, until I wasted away. Nothing but skin and bone, I would still reach to her and smile as we begged each other for more.

We didn't, of course. Instead, we rose. We dressed. I adoringly ordered her to, ‘Get out of my kitchen and sit,' while I prepared our dinner, and she obliged—watching me with a slight grin from the dining table. She jokingly refused to sing my praises while we ate, yet she cleared her plate and helped herself to seconds. We had the chance to relax. My arm had casually draped over her shoulder while we watched television. I offered her a nightcap, and she accepted the glass of whiskey with joy. It was inevitable that we would eventually wander to bed, but we fought sleep as we lounged on the couch together, for sleeping meant a fast-forward to the next day. And among our blissful relaxation that I considered to be heaven rather than purgatory, Cassie had spoken to both Skylar and Colton.

They were slated to arrive at my apartment by ten o'clock in the morning—which meant that Luke, Claire, Liam, and Zoey would be joining us, as well—and with one peek over my shoulder at the oven's clock, I noted that it was 9:30. I breathed in, let it out in a long exhale, and allowed myself to continually relive the night past rather than focusing on the present. My vision was unfocused as I stared ahead at nothing, and I felt my eyes go hooded and my lips stretch into a lopsided smirk as I blindly lifted my mug to my mouth.

"Hmm…you look lost in space."

I glanced to the right to see Cassie having just stepped out of the bathroom. A dark grey towel wrapped around her chest and hanging down to her upper thighs, her hair sopping and slicked back, she was freshly showered and wearing a wry smile.

I finished giving her a thorough once over and returned, "Maybe I am."

"But a good lost in space." She walked toward me, halting when she was close enough for me to reach her. I brushed along the skin of her damp thighs with my right hand as I looked up to her, and she touched a single finger to the space between my eyebrows. She traced over the spots on my forehead that she had once told me contained worry wrinkles and ended where my hair was tucked behind my ear. "Is it pleasant up there?"

I smiled. "Mhm."

Cassie hummed happily and looked down at my mug. "You made coffee? "

I nodded. Though I knew that Claire and Liam, the two more avid coffee aficionados, would bring their own fresh brew—they usually did whenever we met as a group at one another's apartments for morning coffee—I had made my own. The pot was a simple drip, tucked away in a corner on the countertop in the kitchen, and I gestured to it with a tip of my head behind me.

"I did," I told her.

Her brow furrowed at my cup. "You don't normally drink it black."

She was right. I didn't. However, my headspace this morning had rendered me only able to pour and sit, and I truthfully didn't mind the taste without my usual dash of milk and sugar.

I shrugged. "You remember how I like my coffee?"

Cassie chuckled back, "I'm observant."

"Or ya like me and you took note."

"Or I like you and I took note," she said with a grin as she leaned down.

I twisted to face her fully, the drenched strands of her hair brushing my hand that had long abandoned my mug and now lay free on the tabletop. I grasped at a piece that left cold droplets in my palm and gave it a tug.

"I like you wet," I murmured against her lips. "You're pretty when you're wet. "

I felt rather than saw her smile. "I like you dirty."

"You're even prettier when I'm inside of you, though," I unabashedly spoke my recollections of our actions aloud. "You're so fuckin' pretty when I'm inside of you."

Cassie let out a giggle, and then simpered, "Filthy boy."

Our soft laughter turned to hums of appreciation as she pressed her lips against mine. The audible smacks of our mouths, though rather quiet, rang in my ears and fueled the fire that was already raging for her. The moment our tongues touched, I was considering the amount of time we had until company was to arrive—debating telling her to lock the door that I had pointedly unlocked mere minutes ago—dreaming of reaching for her towel and letting it fall to the floor—perhaps carrying her back to bed or taking her right on the kitchen table.

None of that could happen, though, because someone was early.

The entrance swung open, my heart struck my sternum, Cassie let out a high pitch that was so unlike the one that I wished to be hearing, and Colton stood in the doorway. It was clear that he had witnessed Cassie rapidly pulling away from me, for his light eyes bounced between the two of us twice…but he was far less than taken aback. The door shut behind him, his expression maintained a casual flair, and he gave us both an uptick of his head .

"Hey." Colton walked to the chair closest to him, which just so happened to be at the opposite head of the table from me. He glanced at Cassie. "You wanna get dressed, or…"

Naturally, she didn't.

"What are you doing here so early?!" she whisper-hissed the chastise to Colton.

His brow pinched together as he sat. "Seriously?"

"Cas—"

"Your brother," Colton pointed at me, "fuckin' bit my head off for being late yesterday. Now I'm early, and your girl's yellin' at me."

"A half hour early," she bit back.

"Y'all said—and I quote," he held up fingers to use as quotation marks, "get here around ten. Door will be unlocked. Just let yourself in." Colton's hands fell back to the table. "Door was unlocked, guys. I'm early. Who gives a shit."

"I give a shit—"

"Cassie, just go get dressed, please," I begged as I rubbed at my eyes. Her response, which I knew would crack like a whip, wasn't spoken. She wasn't able to because the door was opening again. My hands dropped from my face, and before I could even see who else had arrived, I was grumbling, "For the love of God. "

It was Claire who was waltzing through the foyer first, holding a French press that was filled to the brim with coffee. She stopped so quickly at the scene before her that Luke had to balance on the balls of his feet to avoid running into her from behind, and she was forced to extend her arms to steady the liquid and prevent a spillage of massive proportion.

Luke murmured, "Jesus, Claire, careful," as he grabbed her on either of her upper arms. "Could've burned yourse—"

He stopped when he followed her eyes to see Colton looking at them both, to Cassie, who was still standing only a step or two from me and clothed in only a towel, and to me—and I was positive that I looked as though I wished time could be reversed.

They both crossed the threshold, closed the door, and while Claire remained silent, glancing to me and Cassie with a narrowed gaze that made me squirm, Luke spoke to Colton in an altogether irritated tone:

"You're early."

Colton waved grandly at Luke while keeping his focus on me. "And he says it like it's a bad thing. Do ya see what I'm talkin' about? Do I have to be a fuckin' pariah here? "

Luke let out a dramatic exhale, and Claire ignored Colton's words, instead asking Cassie, "Why aren't you dressed?"

"Well," she crossed her arms, "you all know that I'm staying here. You all know that there's only one bathroom in this place. And you all know that it's right," Cassie pointed behind herself, toward the bathroom door that was left ajar, "over there. We said ten o'clock. It is 9:30. I'm not ready yet! Sue me! Why is everyone barging in here so goddamn early?"

"I was trying to get in your good graces," Colton quipped with a smile to all of us. His focus inevitably landed on Luke and stayed there. "How am I doin'?"

Luke walked to the table, choosing the chair directly to my right, and slumped down onto it as he replied, "It's probably best if we don't talk."

Colton nodded as if it were the reaction that he was expecting while Claire continued to eye Cassie skeptically.

"I was anxious," Claire remarked slowly in response to Cassie's questioning of their arrival time. "Figured I'd come by and bring coffee while we wait…"

Claire moved to stand between Luke and Colton, set the stainless-steel contraption on the table before them all, and began to make her way to the kitchen to grab several mugs. As she reached into the appropriate cabinet, Colton asked her:

"Can you grab me one?"

Luke muttered, "Can't you get your own?"

Claire's body sagged, one hand on the handle of the cupboard as she looked back to Luke and gently spoke, "Baby, can you not do this?"

He blew an annoyed breath through his nostrils in response, and she finished her task at hand, grabbing three mugs—all the same design as the small, white one that I was currently drinking from. She bustled about behind the island expertly while holding them all deftly by the handles with a grip of her left hand. Packets of sweetener from the countertop and a small container of cinnamon from the lazy susan cupboard were placed in the mugs, the quart of milk that sat in the fridge was snagged by her free hand, and she closed the refrigerator door with a sharp bump of her hip.

Sitting at Luke's right, she set everything down. He quietly thanked her for the cinnamon, as it was a typical addition to his morning beverage, and she gave him a small grin in return. Colton waited silently while they both prepared their drinks.

Cassie cleared her throat. "I'm, ah, gonna go get dressed." She took two steps. Two small, quiet steps. And the creak of the front door sounded once more. Cassie groaned, "Please, God— no."

Her plea to a deity was unanswered as her brother strolled inside with his own French press in hand.

"I thought I heard—" Liam's attention was immediately drawn to his sister, and he grimaced as he admonished, "The hell are you doing? Get some clothes on!"

"Oh. My God!" Cassie whined. "Ten o'clock! We said fucking. Ten. I just got out of the goddamn shower!"

Zoey, who was momentarily hidden behind Liam's large body and holding a container of sugar cookie-flavored creamer, walked past him and toward the kitchen table.

Less than concerned about Cassie's appearance, she greeted Colton with a murmured, "Morning," moving to sit on my left and setting her creamer down in front of her.

He pointed at her enthusiastically. "That's how you say hello," he told both Cassie and Luke as he looked between the two of them.

"Cas," Liam exhaled her name in exasperation as he closed the door behind him, "I know you're staying here, but ya can't walk around like you own the damn place."

Now filling his own mug halfway with coffee from Claire's French press, Colton squinted at Liam. He set the contraption down, replacing it with the milk, and cocked his head a near ninety degrees to the side. Filling the mug until I knew his coffee would be colored a light beige, he looked from him, to me, to Cassie, and then back to Liam. He appeared to be reading the room and absorbing the vibes as if they were moisture and he a wrung-out sponge; however, as he reached for the sweetener and grabbed three packets, he said nothing.

Luke's nose scrunched as he watched Colton tear the tops off of all three of the green packets and empty them into his cup in one fell swoop. Mild disgust at Colton's obvious preference for overly sweet, milky coffee was clear in his contorted grimace.

"I was just. Going. To get. Dressed," Cassie stressed to her brother. "And I was considering getting a coffee before I did, but then you guys all showed up at once."

"You can put on clothes before you go walkin' through Jay's kitchen," he argued. "You're giving everyone a free show."

Zoey scoffed. "It's just a towel, Lee."

Cassie bitterly retorted, "Well, I can't ask for payment for my shows anymore since I had to quit my job! So, it's all fuckin' free now."

Mug half-lifted to his lips, Colton barked out a laugh. Everyone simultaneously turned their heads to look at him, and he quipped:

"What? That was funny. She's funny. So…you quit? "

Cassie said, "Over a voicemail. No notice…not exactly ideal, but—" She paused as she noticed Liam's eyes narrowed in Colton's direction and exclaimed, "Oh, for the love of—Liam, he said I was funny. He didn't say he wanted to fuck me!"

Colton rapidly finished a sip from his drink and then set it down to tell Cassie, "For the record, I don't. No offense, but you're not my type." He casually spoke to Liam, "Ya got nothing to worry about there," and then shot me the quickest of side-eyes as if he were silently telling me the same. No one else had caught it, but his quiet recognition of my closeness with Cassie made me cough into my coffee mug. I cleared my throat loudly, setting the ceramic to the table, and Colton voiced, "Ya left a message and quit. Got it. Probably a good call. When's your friend gettin' here, anyway?"

Cassie's jaw dropped open. "TEN!"

She then abandoned all thought of getting coffee, turned on her heel, and stormed into Claire's bedroom where she had left her suitcase.

There was little conversation to be had while we all waited for Skylar.

Liam had eventually sat between Zoey and Colton with two more procured mugs from my cupboard. He poured from his French press into his mug and added nothing else; Zoey drank mostly creamer with a splash of coffee. Colton asked if he could have some of her flavored creamer, and she gave it to him without a verbal response. Luke and Liam both watched in horror as he added even more sweetness to his cup.

Cassie returned to the common area, having quickly thrown her damp hair in a bun and donned jeans and a long-sleeved white shirt. Because the seats were all otherwise full at the dining table, she had taken it upon herself to sit atop the granite on the kitchen island behind me. Legs dangling over the edge, I could see her in the peripheral vision of my right-hand side as she casually drank her coffee, which was prepared exactly like her brother's.

It was odd to say, but despite what I knew was coming upon Skylar's arrival, it felt… normal. Well, normal in the manner of an awkward breakfast in which no one desired to speak general pleasantries, but normal, nonetheless.

The casual feeling of morning coffee with friends and acquaintances alike lasted until approximately 10:05. Claire checked the time on her phone. Cassie's right foot began to bounce from side to side. Liam questioned her hesitantly:

"You said ten?"

I answered for her, "I think we all know she was supposed to get here at ten, man. "

"Y'all need patience," Colton noted before draining the last dredges of his mug.

"Didn't you tell me her car's in the shop or something?" I twisted in my chair to look at Cassie and found her looking particularly worried. I assured her, "She probably had to catch an Uber to get here. So she's a few minutes late. That's not weird, Cas."

Cassie shook her head. "Sky's punctual. This isn't like her."

"It's only five minutes after ten," Claire gently spoke.

"The girl shows up to work fifteen minutes early—without fail," Cassie stated. "She sits in her car in the parking lot so she's not a bother until she's perfectly on time. Checks out the parking situation before we ever meet up for lunch or dinner so she knows exactly where to go and doesn't get lost."

Colton sarcastically muttered, "She sounds super laid back."

"I'm telling you," Cassie insisted, "this is weird." She picked up her phone that was resting on the countertop beside her, and glanced at the screen. "No text, no call, no nothing."

Zoey asked, "Well, when did you talk to her last? "

"Last night?" Cassie replied with an upward inflection. "Called her and chatted for a bit. Texted her the address after."

"You just called her up to tell her about her dead friend?" Colton inquired with raised eyebrows.

Cassie sighed heavily. "We knew Delaney, but neither of us were friends with her—and I kept it brief."

"How brief?" he pressed. "Like… Hey, girl! Quick thing. Remember Delaney? She's dead and I'm a skosh worried about other dancers that didn't make their shifts. Long story. Wanna come over tomorrow and chat?"

She rolled her eyes at the insinuation. "No. Of course not."

I recalled the short amount of time that Cassie took to speak with Skylar on the phone and there was no doubt that it was, as she had described, brief. She had emerged from Claire's bedroom afterward, appearing slightly shaken, noting that while Skylar wasn't privy to all the details, she did tell her about Delaney. Aside from mentioning that Skylar wasn't entirely alone—her bathroom still needed work, and she was staying with her parents—Cassie had little desire to speak of it all. I understood entirely, for we knew that the subject would soon be revisited .

"What did you tell her?" Zoey spoke my thoughts, a hint of anxiety in her vibrant eyes.

Cassie immediately replied, "Just that I found that article about Delaney…broke that to her as gently as I could. Didn't even mention the other dancers, yet—nothing about the laptop, nothing about 2D."

Zoey gave her a curt nod, and I asked:

"What does she think she's coming over here for?"

Cassie shrugged. "Coffee?"

"Coffee? You didn't tell me that. That doesn't seem like enough detail…what happened to being concerned for her safety?"

She returned my rapid tone, "She wasn't on the schedule for work last night, and I told you that she stayed at her parents' house because her bathroom's still messed up. She wasn't alone."

"Oh, how convenient about her bathroom," I sardonically stated. "I didn't realize we were dropping fucking bombs on this poor woman today."

"It's a bomb no matter when I tell her, James," she hissed.

"So, you decided to invite her over for breakfast?"

"Jay," Luke cut in. My head whipped to his, and he quietly demanded, "Ease up. "

Cassie said, "If I told her everything at once, she's bound to ask why we haven't gone to the police yet." The reminder was apt, and I sighed loudly as she told the entire group, "I didn't exactly have an answer for that."

"Yeah," Colton remarked slowly, "just…I dunno…tell her we're tryin' to get all our ducks in a row before talking with the cops."

"That's a lie," Claire unnecessarily pointed out.

"Uh huh." He shot her a wry grin. "Would you rather the truth?"

"You know we wouldn't," she griped.

Liam voiced to his sister, "If you think your friend knows anything about these missing women, why don't you just tell her it'd be best for her to go to the police?"

Colton pointed at him. "Ooh. That. So simple, we won't even have to go into much detail, and then the cops are involved without any of us being questioned."

"Well, you're gonna question her, though," I said. "She'll probably ask why you're so damn interested."

"Maybe I'm dating a stripper who works at another club." Colton looked to me with a secretly mocking smile, and Cassie grumbled something unintelligible from behind me as he continued, "Call her Peyton…Peyton's a good name." He murmured the latter half softly to himself, and then powered on with, "That'd make me emotionally invested enough, right?"

Cassie exhaled a bitter, succinct, "Sure."

Without even a pause, Colton abruptly swung the subject. "But I'll cross that bridge when we get to it. Since she's not here yet…" He glanced at Zoey. "You look through that laptop?"

"Mhm," she replied. "Nothing else that I could see."

"Nothing else that you could see?" he repeated back to her with a narrowing of his eyes. "Saved pictures?"

"Nope," she muttered.

"Emails?"

"No saved passwords."

"Messages?"

Her expression pinched. "Messages?"

"Texts," Colton clarified with purpose. "Text messages."

"How the hell am I supposed to check his text messages?"

He stared at her for all of two seconds before stating bluntly, "It's a Mac."

Zoey hesitated. "Uh huh…and?"

"And those have the ability to sync up with an iPhone." His head cocked to the side as he looked to us all. "Did y'all not know that? "

Zoey said nothing in return while Liam blinked rapidly, murmuring, "Don't look at me. I'm not rich enough for that shit."

Claire mumbled, "I don't have a computer," and Cassie agreed.

Luke shook his head as expected, showing off his technological ineptitude.

I, however, was well aware of the feature…I had just been far too distracted to think of mentioning it.

I groaned, "I do. I didn't even think about that."

"'Kay…hoping ya didn't burn it yet," Colton told Zoey.

"No, no," she replied.

He began to say, "You should probably—"

"I'll check it again," she cut him off sharply. "I got it."

"Okay." He held up his hands in mock defense at her tone, let them fall back to the table, and set his eyes back on Cassie. "So…thoughts on time here?"

She shrugged, lifting her phone to peek at the time once again, and immediately began to tap across the screen. Raising the phone to her ear, she waited for a beat before letting out a gritty, frustrated noise, and she dropped her cell to the counter with a loud clack.

"One ring. Silenced to voicemail," she griped, pressing her hands to her eyes. "God dammit, Sky. For all we know, she's tied up in some dude's basement somewhere—"

"Okay," the panic in her voice forced me to speak up. "Cas…it's only fifteen after the hour."

"I know what fucking time it is, Jay!"

Zoey interjected, "The last thing we need right now is you two bickering."

I retorted over my shoulder at her, "We aren't bickering!" before turning back to Cassie. "I'm sure Sky's fine. She was at her parents' house last night?"

"In Roanoke." Her casual, following, "Uh huh," was nearly drowned out by the audible buzz her phone made as it vibrated beside her. All heads whipped to the source of the noise; it was in her hand in the blink of an eye, and her shoulders sagged as she let out an exhale.

Weighted silence filled the room, for Cassie's expression seemed torn…and it wasn't clear whether her reaction was one of relief or further worry.

Liam questioned, "Well, was it her?"

"Sky," she grumbled. "Yes, it was her." Cassie's voice turned to a higher, sweeter pitch as she read from her phone, emulating Skylar, "‘Sorry…family drama, long story.'"

"Family drama?" Colton repeated, "Family. Drama?"

"That is what she said," Cassie sardonically remarked.

He scoffed. "People are dying. This isn't exactly the time to prioritize a fight with Mommy. "

Cassie typed while sneering, "It's probably not just a fight with Mommy." She looked up to him and mentioned, "It's not like her to bail."

"Is she bailing?" he asked. "Or is she just late?"

She bit back, "What do you think I just asked? I'm not just…" It was clear her phone had vibrated as she stopped herself mid-sentence to look at her palm, huffed out a breath, and said, "She's not coming."

"Perfect," Colton complained quietly. "As much as I'd love to stay for breakfast, I'm gonna go." His chair scraped the flooring below as he stood, and he gently suggested, "Maybe give her some more incentive to actually show next time?"

"I did think—"

"I know, I know." He waved her away as he strode toward the door. "Another time."

The door closed, and all that lingered was a sense of hopelessness. Not fear, nor the loss of control as life rapidly careens off of an expected path—just hopelessness. Hopelessness and the sensation of a ticking clock continually counting down with no knowledge of the time remaining, and no way to figure out if disaster would strike upon zero. There was no use in pondering it—no use to fall into the hole of unease that seemed to stretch on to eternity.

Feigned braveness abound, the clock ticked on.