“Cass? You still there?”
“Yes—” Her voice came out a squeak, and she cleared her throat. “Yeah, I’m here. Okay. Bye. Take your shower.” She hung up, face flaming, throat tight, while he was still in the middle of his goodbye. It was only after, once she’d fanned at her face and slumped sideways against the wall, that she remembered the reason for calling in the first place.
“Oh hell,” she said to her dark phone screen. Now she’d just have to reprimand him properly in person.
~*~
Once Jamie was redressed and sitting on the side of the hospital bed, arms banded tightly across her middle, Melissa had another quiet word with her. Cass wanted to eavesdrop, but held back when she saw the shame and misery etched in Jamie’s face.
“Ready to go?” she asked with forced cheer once Melissa said they were free to go, and promised to be in touch with follow-ups.
Jamie nodded, gaze downcast, and fell silently into step at Cass’s side.
She remained silent: in the elevator, through the lobby, on the sidewalk, in the taxi, up the walk to their building, and inthatelevator. Cass started to worry, and not for the right reason; not for her friend’s mental stability. But that Jamie might be starting to rethink her statement, and be jonesing to retract the accusation.
(I’m a shit friend, she thought, but so be it. She came from a shit family, after all.)
“Are you okay?” she asked, when they were inside the dorm and Jamie had eased down onto the edge of her bed. Cass propped her hands on her hips and felt useless, thrumming with energy, wanting to do something to help in some way. “That’s a stupid question, isn’t it? Sorry.”
Slowly, as though the movement pained her, Jamie tipped her head back. Her eyes were freshly red, as if she’d cried during her exam, eyelids puffy and the delicate skin beneath bruised-looking. “What if I did the wrong thing?”
Oh no.
“You didn’t.” Cass sat down next to her, and then scooted over when Jamie flinched. “Jamie, I promise, you did the exact right thing.” She started to reach for Jamie’s hand, but remembered the flinch, and thought better of it. “What Sig did to you waswrong. He can’t be allowed to get away with it.”
“But…” She bit her lip. “What if—what if Ididwant it?”
Shit.
Cass wished she had better tools with which to handle this situation; that she had more real-world, firsthand experience upon which to draw, rather than the empty platitudes she’d seen on TV. She watched way too much TV. Had spent far too many hours on the couch rather than roaming the streets, apprenticing at the capable hands of her brothers and father. Even Raven would have found wise words in this moment.
She said, “You didn’t want him to hurt you,” and cringed internally, ninety-nine-percent certain she’d heard that onLaw & Order: SVU.
“But I wanted to—I wanted tobewith him. I wanted him tolikeme.”
Here, at least, Cass felt steadier in her reasoning. Much could be said about her family, blood and club, but they didn’t have to force themselves on women.
“Maybe you did to start with,” she said, “but you didn’t want him to do it likethis, Jamie. I know you didn’t.” She hesitated. “Did you?”
Jamie squeezed her eyes shut, tears standing on her lashes, and shook her head.
“Okay, then.” Cass draped an arm across her shoulders, and this time, she didn’t shrink away. “Then we’ll let Missy do her thing, and then Sig’s going to get his ass handed to him on a silver platter.”
Or so she hoped.
Eight
Cass got a text from Melissa first thing the next morning while she was doing her hair. It read:Remember that investigating will take time. We won’t move to make an arrest until we’re sure it can stick. Y’all stay calm and keep your heads down.
Cass sighed, but sent back a fast:I know. She kept theduhto herself.
Jamie was a jittery mess, who tugged on her heaviest, most shapeless pair of sweats and pulled the hood up on the matching hoodie. Cass tried to be as supportive as possible, thankful that they shared all the same classes today.
Slowly, Jamie seemed to unwind. By lunch, she’d pushed her hood back, and straightened her spine, and attended studiously to the watercolor paper she’d taped down to the table where they both worked.
“Feeling better?” Cass ventured.
Jamie shrugged, but her brushstrokes were sure and confident as ever.
