He shook his head. “No, I didn’t. Not until that last night.” He paused and then leaned closer, his face only inches from mine. “Cassidy, how often did you get hit?”

I began to back away but one hand snaked up and locked behind my neck.

“Cassidy, how often did they hit you?” he repeated, and that cool intensity in his stare held me where I was. What was it about that stare and those eyes?

“Every day. Is that—is that not like your situation?” I asked when his next breath was audible.

The hand on my neck squeezed lightly and he hung his head. “No. For us it was every two weeks or so.”

I mouthed the words he’d just said. I guess it was naïve, but I’d thought all kids who were abused had it pretty much the same as me. “Did you—” I suddenly broke off on a gasp and pushed back against his hand until he let go when he looked up at me from under his lashes. Oh my God, how could I have not recognized him?! I’d dreamed about that look, dreamed about those eyes!

“What?”

“You’re that cop!”

His eyes widened and he straightened slightly. “I didn’t think you recognized me.”

“You knew who I was and you didn’t say anything? You’ve just been acting like—like you cared?” I gasped again. “Were you even—” I backed away from him and grabbed my purse.

“Say it.”

“It doesn’t matter,” I said coldly, and stood up before he could trap me in the chair again.

“Cassidy,” he pleaded, but I was already walking toward the side exit door that emptied out into an alleyway. “Cassidy, wait!” Connor’s hand grabbed mine and he brought me to a stop. “It does matter. You need to talk about it.”

My hand involuntarily tightened around his even as I tried to walk away. “Are you a therapist too or does it just come with being a detective?”

“Neither, but you’re never—”

“Stop with the hidden interrogation bullshit, Connor!” I cried “I know what you’re doing! You’re doing the same damn thing you did a week and a half ago! Only now you’re—you’re—you look like this!” I waved my free hand in front of him. “Did you follow me here? Did you think dressing like a normal person would help me open up to you? Were you even abused as a child or did you use that to get me to talk too? Did you just want to know my past so you could figure out if you made the right judgment on that call all those years ago? And why does it even matter anymore if they’re dead?”

His brows slanted down and he backed me up until I was pressed against the wall. “You think this is all some play to solve a case, Cassidy? A case that’s fucking closed? That was barely even opened? You honestly believe I would make up some sob story to get you to talk to me?”

“God, just stop! I know all of this was so you could find out the truth about my life! And I know you people do that, you lie about stuff to trick people into saying what you need them to, you make up stories so they think you’ll understand. So I hope you feel better now that you’ve gotten what you’re here for, but I obviously have nothing to hide from you anymore! And if you really want to know what I got out of the will, Detective Green, I got her money. I got a lot of it. Yeah, that probably makes me look even worse than before, but I couldn’t care less about the money! I was shocked that I was even in her will. And another thing: the fire was no accident, but you won’t be able to find the person who did it, because she killed herself in the fire.”

“What?” His eyes bulged and one brow raised.

“She left me a letter, and from what she said in it, she was going to make sure both she and Jeff didn’t make it out, but I don’t think Jeff had a clue. So I don’t know how or what exactly she did. But there you go. She killed herself and him. Burned that godforsaken house to the ground and took them with it. There’s everything, Detective Green—”

“Connor,” he all but growled.

“I know you don’t give a shit about me, so drop the act!” I hissed back. “I just found all that out before I walked into the shop, so now you know everything I know. And now you know that yes, we lied to you when you showed up at the house a few years ago, but I couldn’t let you take me away; I needed to stay near Tyler. Now, if you’ll excuse me.” I turned to leave but his grip on my hand tightened and his other hand came up to my shoulder.

“Cassidy, none of this was a damn act!”

“Look, I respect that you love your job, and you’re good at it.” The hand that was somewhat free tried to flail out. “Obviously. But I’ve had a crappy week. I’ve had bad memories resurface. I’ve visited the—well—now-burned-down house that I wanted so desperately to escape from my entire life. If that wasn’t enough I have this annoyingly attractive detective who will not leave me alone, and I just found out that for the last nine months my mother was sober for the first time in thirteen years! And because she was sober her husband decided to start beating her. She couldn’t handle it, and she couldn’t handle what she’d done to me, so she decided to kill herself and him, for me! She thought she was doing it for me, Connor! If only she had called me, I would have done something. I could have done something, right? I would have gotten her away from him, but she didn’t, because she knew I wouldn’t answer, because she knew that I hated her. She killed herself knowing that I hated her, and did it for closure for me. So I could start a new life. I just—I don’t—why wasn’t I there for her?”

Connor’s arms wrapped around me, and it was then I realized I was sobbing. What was happening to me today? And what on earth did this man do to me? “Shh, Cass, it’s okay. It’s okay. Don’t let that guilt get to you, none of this is on you, you hear me? None of it. Your mom had demons, and that was the only way she knew how to deal with them.”

“But she sounded so much like how she was before Dad died. I loved her then, and I should have been there for her the last nine months.”

“Don’t go down that road. It’s going to eat you alive if you do.” He held me until I stopped sobbing and shaking, then asked quietly, “What did she say to you in the note?” When I sighed and tried to pull back he added quickly, “God, that makes it sound worse. Please forget I’m a detective while we’re together. This isn’t an act, Cassidy, I’ve been thinking about you nonstop since we first left the Bradley house last Saturday. I had no idea you were even still in California, let alone going to be at this coffeehouse this morning. You don’t have to tell me, but I can see how much you need to talk about your past. If you don’t talk about it and this letter, it’ll just get worse.”

Without saying anything, I left my forehead pressed against his chest and reached into my purse to pull out the envelope. I held it up for Connor and was surprised when he shifted me so I was still wrapped in his arms while he opened and read it. My left hand was still curled into a fist against his chest and I slowly uncurled it to lay it flat at the same time I brought my right arm to wrap around his waist. Connor’s arms constricted and for some reason it made my body relax even more into him. This was wrong, I knew it was wrong. I shouldn’t have felt this comfortable, this good, in another man’s arms. It wasn’t like when Tyler held me; even after all that happened between us, it still felt like he was just my best friend and my rock all last week. But Connor? It felt easy, natural even. Which was more confusing than anything. I’d dreamed about him for years, but I hardly knew him and was still convinced he was just playing his part very well in order to get the information he wanted. That had to be it, right? He’d played me with the story of his “childhood”; he knew it’d get me and it did. I hadn’t realized how much I’d craved someone who understood me.

“Cassidy, I have a few more questions regarding your past, and then I’ll stop. Anything you tell me after that will be because you brought it up, all right?”