Deliver Us (The Sinful Duet Book 2) Read online

  My heart drops, and I shoot up in bed. “What? Why? Is she…is she okay?”

  “I don’t know. They won’t tell me over the phone.” Bree’s voice is shaky and uneven, and it scares me. “I gotta go, they’re not gonna hold the plane, but I’ll call you as soon as I hear anything.”

  I push my fingers through my hair. “I’ll book a flight too. I’ll—”

  “Don’t do that. Just yet. I’ll let you know.”

  “Bree—” She hangs up.

  Shit. I toss my phone by my feet and throw my blankets off. Cold air clings to my warm, bare feet as I swing them over the edge of the mattress and press them to the carpet. I can’t wait around for her call. I should be there at the hospital when Agnes wakes up. She’d want me there. I need to be in Paradise Valley.

  I lift myself off the mattress in a rush to pack a bag but stop.

  “Shit!” I swear as a sweep of blonde and pink hair blows to the forefront of my mind. “Cassia…”

  I need to be here for her too. If I leave for Arizona to be with Agnes, who knows when I’ll be able to return to New York? I pace back and forth across my bedroom. I’ve made too much progress with Cassia to leave her here on her own. I don’t want her to think I’m unreliable, that she can’t count on me, and I don’t want her thinking I’m only here to mess with her life for the fun of it. Not to mention, I don’t trust Nick, and I’m not about to give him the chance to drag her back to where they were before I got here.

  Groaning, I press the heels of my palms to my temples and press as a headache brews from nowhere. What I need is a coffee and a Goddamn plan. I exit my room, and three sets of stares land on me from the kitchen. Straightening my spine, I swallow my despair, slipping my mask into place. I offer Wade, who’s wearing a ridiculous Captain America onesie, and his two brunette girlfriends—Lauren and Lara—a small wave.

  “Caleb! Is this our lucky day?” Wade cheers, a mouth full of toast, and sets down his Darth Vader mug to lift his arms in triumph. “You never join us for breakfast.”

  I flick my shoulders, adjusting the way my hoodie sits. It’s warmer in here than in my room this morning. “I’m here for the coffee.”

  “I just finished brewing a fresh pot, so it should still be hot,” Lara says, beaming at me from the other side of the counter. A short lock of hair falls from her loose ponytail into her face and she pushes it away, tucking it behind her ear. “It’s a new blend, but I think you’ll like it.”

  Out of the two, I like Lara the most—in a little sister kind of way. She’s tiny, cute, and funny. Lauren, however, is quiet and serious. We’ve rarely spoken.

  “Thanks.” I force myself to smile at her and stroll through the kitchen, ignoring their usual spread of toast, fruit, eggs, and bacon. When I first moved in, I thought it was weird that there were three of them in their relationship, but they work like a well-oiled machine. They eat breakfast, lunch, and dinner together here in the kitchen, most of the time. They watch TV together, play together, sleep together. I’ve yet to hear a “peep” that suggest their little threesome isn’t working. They’re content and happy, so who am I to judge?

  I make my coffee, add some cream, and lift my cup to my mouth. As I press my lower lip to the hot rim, I notice there are three sets of stares on me again.

  “What?” I ask, sipping the scalding liquid.

  They exchange looks, then the girls tighten the belts to their fluffy purple robes and slide off their stools. I watch them, curiously, as they move to the living room to sit on the couch and whisper. I look at Wade and he lifts his cup of coffee as he turns his back to the living room and leans against the counter. “We saw you last night.”

  “Okay?” I sip at my coffee. “Cool.”

  “No, not cool.” He tousles his scruffy brown hair, exposing black lines of a hidden head tattoo. “We saw you at Benny’s with the girl next door.”

  Am I missing something here? What’s so taboo about that? And why’s he acting like he caught me dumping a dead body? “Cassia? Yeah. We had dinner at Benny’s.”

  “Just dinner?” He tilts his head, pinning me with his suspicious gaze. “Because Lauren saw you two making out in the hall as well.”

  Heat radiates through my chest and floods up my neck, but it’s not embarrassment. It’s the memory of her mouth and how perfect it felt against mine. She tasted so sweet and perfect, and I’d give anything to rewind time just to kiss her all over again.

  “So?”

  He arches a brow. “So, isn’t she with the dude next door? Nick?”

  Clenching my jaw, I lower my red coffee mug to the counter. “No.”

  “Pretty sure she is.”

  I laugh at him. Wade and I barely speak on a regular basis. Our interactions consist of small talk mostly, but he feels we’re tight enough to question me about my life choices? As if he has a right to? I don’t need this right now, especially not from him. I have Agnes to worry about and Cassia to deal with.

  “Who are you? My father?” I tilt my chin, glaring down my nose at him. “Don’t worry about what I’m doing.”

  Pursing his lips, obviously biting his tongue, he looks away from me, but I can see the strain on his face. He can’t hold it in. He has a big mouth, it’s what he does. “She’s hot, but she isn’t worth it. They never are.”

  That’s where he’s wrong. He has no idea. I always liken my desperation for Cassia to a sick man in need of a cure…because that’s exactly what it is. I’ve had lots of girls—too many to count—and she’s the only one I got lost in, the only one who dissolves my numbness and makes me feel. When I’m with her, I don’t feel my mother’s warm, dying blood burning my skin, like acid. I don’t hear my sister’s screams echoing in my ears. Instead, I see my future and it’s bright, no longer a dark pit of uncertainty. I’m not worthy of Cassia’s love, I know that, but she’s more than worthy of my affection.

  I take my coffee. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  Cassia was mine first, I want to tell him. We have history. What does she have with Nick besides a dead, sexless relationship and an apartment? Nothing. I walk by Wade and turn at the end of the counter toward the living room.

  “Does Nick know you’re trying to steal his girl?”

  I pause and turn. The hand I hold my coffee with trembles with irrational frustration. His girl? I don’t think so. I move my arm, holding my coffee away from my body in case it spills over the rim of the mug. “What’s your problem?”

  Wade leans on the countertop, the palms of his hands splayed against the granite. He looks at Lauren and Lara and flicks his head toward their bedroom. Without a word, they bounce to their feet and rush away, holding pinkies. “I just think it’s fucked up.”

  I snort. He’s got two girlfriends and I’m the fucked-up one? “That’s rich, coming from you.”

  He pushes off the counter and steps around it, sauntering toward me. Stopping two feet away, he pushes the hood with two small, white wings on each side off his head. “Oh, really?”

  Christ. I can’t take him seriously in that ridiculous onesie. “Really. I don’t give a shit what you think of me, Wade.”

  “I don’t think you’re a bad guy. I just didn’t think you were that kind of guy.”

  “What kind?”

  “The kind to sleep with another man’s woman.” He glances toward his bedroom with his dark, chocolate eyes. “You’re not gonna try and steal my girls when you’re done with the blonde, are you?”

  I pull a face, as if he said the stupidest thing in the world. That’s what he’s worried about? He thinks I’ll try and go for Lauren and Lara? I can’t even get a boner unless it’s for Cassia, so they’re safe from me. “If I wanted your girlfriends, they’d be mine already,” I point out, and he scowls at me. “Lucky for you, I don’t want them. Either of them.”

  Wade opens his mouth, but the sound of my phone ringing from the bedroom stops him. I jerk my head back and feel my eyes go wide. Gasping, I shove my coffee into
Wade’s chest, spilling the liquid.

  “Ah!” he hisses, grabbing the mug as coffee runs over our fingers and soaks into his pajamas. “What the fuck, Caleb?”

  I sprint to my room and dive onto my bed, seize my phone, and answer it without hesitation. “Hello?”

  “Good morning, is this Mr. Andrews?”

  My heart races and I hold my palm to my stomach. “Yes.”

  “My name is Lisa and I’m calling from—”

  “The hospital, right? I-in regard to Agnes McNamara?” I ask, staring at the white wall above the head of my bed, the only thing separating me from Cassia, whose company I could really use right now.

  “Yes. We were unable to get ahold of Agnes’s other contact.”

  “She’s on a plane from New York to Paradise Valley as we speak.”

  “Oh, that’s good. Agnes will need her family around her. She’s out of surgery and she’s stable, but…her recovery is uncertain.”

  Chills rock me to me core, my racing heart turns sluggish and heavy. A sour taste settles in my mouth as the fingers on my right hand turn cold and shaky. “What do you mean uncertain? What happened? Why did she—”

  “I do apologize, Mr. Andrews, but I’m limited to what I can say over the phone. I will fill the first emergency contact in when she arrives and have her forward the information along to you.”

  “Are you kidding me?” I snap at her, clenching my fist. “Why call me in the first place?”

  “I’m truly sorry. You’ll know more once the first emergency contact gets here.”

  The woman on the phone apologizes again before hanging up. I keep the phone to my ear and swallow hard. I grimace. It hurts to swallow. Agnes’s recovery is uncertain? Meaning she might…she might…die?

  I lower my phone and my gaze to the messy bed. I always knew Agnes would go sometime, but a part of me—a childish part—thought she never would. At least, not before me. I assumed there’d be a time I cut the wrong place and way too deep, so I never entertained the idea of living without Agnes, my father, Cassia—anyone. It’s unbearable.

  It’s…it’s…excruciating.

  I shrink into myself, searching for the cloak of detachment I’ve grown accustom to, but I can’t find it. My chest cracks in half, and it’s deafening, like a crack of thunder following the brightest strike of lightning, and I cringe, gritting my teeth tightly.

  I have to go to Paradise Valley.

  Chapter Seven

  C A S S I A

  I straighten the last black, glossy stool in the kitchen and sigh. Finally, the apartment is spotless. I didn’t sleep well last night, too consumed by thoughts of Nick and Caleb and how I’ve handled things these past few months. There are a million and one things I should’ve done differently, but I’m here now, at the crux of all my little white lies and not-so-little mistakes. At four a.m., Nick called me, drunk, and we ended our relationship for real. He was livid, called me every name under the sun, picked me apart with ease, and threw my shitty parents in my face to drive his hurtful words home. I guess I deserve it? I don’t know. When we argue, he says so much I lose track of who the bad guy is to begin with. Me? Or him?

  I’m somewhere between feeling lousy because it ended like this and relieved it’s finally done. At six a.m., I sent him a text message, a confirmation so he remembered our conversation when he woke. He texted me back, saying I can remain in the apartment until I find a new place. It’ll be awkward, but I know his work schedule and, if I stay in my room, we shouldn’t bump heads.

  “Sia? Are you listening to me?” Fiona asks through the phone, pulling me from my thoughts.

  I lift my attention to the far wall, focusing. “Yeah, I’m listening.”

  “What’d I say?”

  Shit. “Something about being in love with San Diego.”

  “Chicago.”

  “Chicago.” I snort, turning the stool to sit on it. “That’s what I said.”

  “Right.” She giggles, and when it fizzles to a stop, there’s a pregnant pause.

  I drag my teeth over my bottom lip. There’s so much I want to tell her, but I’m afraid of judgment. Nick was her friend long before I came along, and I don’t want her to feel she has to take sides, but I don’t want her to hate me for breaking his heart either.

  “We’ve been on the phone for thirty-two minutes and you haven’t said a word about New York or you and Nick,” she points out. “Or Caleb. Normally, I can’t get you to shut up.”

  I shrug my shoulders and turn the stool, tucking my legs under the counter. Sighing, I sit forward and slide my elbows against the countertop. “There’s too much to say. Where do I even start? It’ll take me all day to get through it.”

  “You know I’ve got all day for you, Sia, so spill the tea.” She takes a noisy sip of whatever she’s drinking. “What’s going on?”

  Where do I start? So much has happened since we last spoke, a month ago today. Since then, I’ve been at war with myself, the knot in a game of tug-o-war with my brain and my heart. I know being with Nick is the smarter choice. He’s already established in New York. He has a good paying job, a place to live, and a generally kind heart—albeit tumultuous and cruel in the thick of an argument I refuse to yield in. Breaking up with him doesn’t mean I’ve chosen Caleb or that he’s what my heart’s set on. Choosing my heart means I’ve chosen myself.

  My heart was never in the relationship I shared with Nick, despite how desperately I tried to force it. I can only compare it to stomping an oddly shaped puzzle piece into a slot it isn’t made for. I was willing to settle, and I would have, but seeing Caleb again for the first time, and every time after, woke me up. I forgot how addictive real lust and real love feels as it zips along the surface of my skin and makes my heart flutter. Caleb’s stubborn presence made me realize how dormant and complacent I’d become in every aspect of my life, that settling with Nick was throwing away all the passion life had to offer me.

  Last night, Caleb ignited something deep down inside me, something I’ve only felt standing on the edge of chaos with him.

  Excitement…

  Passion…

  The scorching heat of an old flame he’s kept burning, protected within his battered ribs, and with a sinful kiss that wasn’t his to take, he used that flame to set fire to my soul. In his kiss, it all made sense. For as long as I can remember, I’ve put everyone else first, their wants, their needs, their feelings, and I made myself an afterthought. I clung to my relationship with Nick because of a promise I was coerced into making. I felt guilty for not liking him as hard as he liked me and took all his verbal and emotional abuse because I felt it was warranted. I made excuses for him and our relationship. Not anymore. I’m making me a priority.

  I’m twenty-one and I have the world at my feet. I can’t cage my spirit before it’s had the chance to run wild. I want the bad makeup choices and the tight dresses. I want the stupid, painful shoes and to drink one Mai Tai too many. Otherwise, what’s the point? I left my parents for a reason and, somewhere along the line, I forgot what the reason was…

  …until Caleb showed me.

  “Nick and I broke up,” I confess to Fiona, and she gasps loudly as I sink my teeth into my bottom lip.

  “Oh, no. When?”

  “Last night—or this morning, technically.” I rub at my forehead. “It was a mess.”

  “Don’t tell me he caught you and Caleb—”

  I balk. “No, God, Fiona.”

  Do I really appear completely hopeless when it comes to Caleb? What is it that makes her think I’m completely powerless against him? I’ve had impeccable control since he made himself known. Sure, I slipped yesterday, but it’s not like he snaps his fingers and I’m his to command.

  “What?”

  “You really think I’d do that to Nick?”

  I mean, we kissed, but he caught me off guard. I don’t tell her that, though.

  “Please, Caleb can talk you into doing anything he wants and you know it.”

&
nbsp; “One, that’s not true, and two, this has been a long time coming. We speak about it whenever you call. Nick and I aren’t a good match. You’ve said so yourself.”

  “And you’ve fought me on it every time.” She clears her throat. “Caleb—”

  “Has nothing to do with it.”

  Fiona scoffs. “You break up with Nick, out of nowhere, and expect me to believe Caleb didn’t have a hand in it?”

  “Well—”

  I’m cut off by the obnoxious sound of her sipping at her drink.

  “That boy will break your heart, Cassia. Again.”

  I open my mouth to rebut, but a knock at the door interrupts. “Someone’s at the door. I gotta go.”

  “Okay. Call me later. You’re not off the hook yet. I want to know everything.”

  I roll my eyes and reluctantly agree to call her later. Slipping my phone into the pocket of my white pullover, I leave the stool and bounce across the apartment. The pompoms on the end of the laces of my over-the-knee, cable-knit socks swing around my calves as I bound onto the landing and approach the front door.

  “Who is it?” I ask, tightening my messy, high ponytail.

  “Uh. It’s Wade.”

  I reach for the handle but pause as my fingers brush the cold metal. Wade? I don’t know any Wades. Leaning forward, I peer through the peephole at a clean-shaven man with a skinny nose and dark, chocolate eyes. The slight apprehension in my chest melts away at the sight of him. Oh, it’s our neighbor. I step back and unlock the door, then pull it open. Wade stands a foot away with a small, awkward, and apologetic smile on his thin lips. Cold air blows in from the hall and licks at the exposed flesh between my socks and little black bed shorts.

  “Hi,” I greet them, smiling at Wade and the two pretty women who stand close behind him.

  “Cute socks,” the smaller brunette says, a sweet giggle trailing her words.

  I glance down at them. I bought these socks with my first paycheck in preparation for my first New York winter. They’ve been a godsend on these icy, abysmal mornings. If only I could wear them to work. “Thank you.”