Chapter One

Her vision was blurring again. Squeezing her eyes shut momentarily, Cassidy Taylor shook her head quickly and reached for the once carbonated drink sitting on her tray table. She grimaced at its lukewarm, overly sweet flavor and slid it back onto the table unenthusiastically.

The cabin was quiet, the low thrum of the engines a dull hum in the background. Most of the passengers were asleep; the few still technically awake were dozing over their books and laptops. The luminescent numbers on the watch across the aisle read half past one, which meant that she still had forty minutes until they would land in Los Angeles—forty minutes until she could drown herself in a venti size White Chocolate Mocha from the nearest Starbucks. She almost cried. Well, not really.

Cassidy stifled another yawn and glanced down at the thick notebook in her lap. Six hours, and all she had was a page of nearly illegible scribbles with random swirls filling the margins. Embarrassing, really. She flipped the notebook shut.

As she lowered her eyes, her gaze fell inadvertently to the cast on her left hand. Bitterness twisted its way across her lips as her right hand moved to tug absentmindedly at the fading blue fiberglass bandage.

Three years. Three years of that abusive son of a bitch that called himself her mother’s boyfriend. It started with a few occasional bruises when he was in his drug haze—nowhere visible—followed by what seemed to be heartfelt apologies and promises. Mom never tried to defend him openly, but Cassidy could see the pleading in her mother’s eyes. She hadn’t been happy in so long; it seemed almost unfair for Cassidy to put her well-being in front of her mother’s. So she just smiled and toughed it out.

They were always high; occasionally drunk, sometimes drunk and high, but mostly just high. According to them, alcohol just didn’t give the same kick that a wild cocktail of drugs could give. And by the end of three years, he didn’t apologize anymore, and Mom was too high to notice.

Three years she’d protected them, dodging concerned questions from friends, doctors, social workers and even random passerby’s with noncommittal comments and a quick smile. Three years of lies that had everybody—even her—convinced...until she’d been dumped in the emergency room five weeks ago with a concussion, multiple bruises, an outrageously spectacular black eye and, of course, the broken arm.

She shook her head wryly. Up until then, her doctor had acted like the oblivious, socially inept med-student who’d spent too much time in school, as he was unusually dense about the minds of teenagers. Or so she thought. But when he’d finished resetting her arm, he’d fixed her with a stern gaze and asked pointedly if she had anything to tell him. Like always, she lied. But this time, he didn’t bite.

The crackling of the intercom broke through her thoughts.

“Good evening ladies and gentlemen, this is your captain speaking,” the captain’s voice came through the cabin. “It is currently 10:03pm Pacific Time; we should be pulling into the Los Angeles International Airport in approximately twenty minutes. Partially cloudy skies tonight…”

Cassidy shifted in her seat slightly, the captain’s voice a dimming to a murmur in the background as her thoughts drifted to the blurry weeks following her visit to the hospital. An in-depth investigation led by the local police had finally prompted social services to contact her father—the same man who’d abandoned her at the tender age of two, leaving her mother and her in a run-down apartment in the slums of New York City. During her mother’s few moments of sobriety, all Cassidy had been able to gather was that her so-called father had left on a business trip when she was two and had never returned, calling once on her third birthday and again on her fourth.

But that was it. A sudden swell of anger surged through her veins. Fifteen years, and she’d only heard from her father two times, both of which she couldn’t actually remember. Last time she checked, those weren’t indications of a good parent.

And now, suddenly out of the blue, her father just decides that he has the time to recognize his own daughter? Cassidy suppressed a snort. The sheer ludicrousness of the situation was so thick she could almost taste it. As far as she was concerned, the man had made his choice fifteen years ago: business over family.

But who was she to talk? Acrimony replaced Cassidy’s anger as she remembered the look of betrayal on her mother’s face when she’d stood up in front of the jury and, under the prosecutor’s probing questions, exposed every instance of drug abuse and child neglect to the courtroom. No matter how glorified it sounded, in the end it was still her choosing herself over her family. If that wasn’t hypocrisy, she didn’t know what was.

As the flight attendant came down the aisle, Cassidy quickly forced her emotions from her face. She downed the rest of her drink and placed the plastic cup into the trash bag offered, and after a quick glance at her sleeping neighbor, quickly snagged the balled up napkins and empty pretzel bag off the tray table and dropped them in as well. She accepted the flight attendant’s thank-you with a slight nod, then turned her face back out towards the window.

The sudden appearance of her father in the midst of all the chaos was…unexpected, to say the least. Even more surprising was how her father had immediately demanded custody of his only daughter. Despite her reservations, Cassidy’s lips curved into a sardonic smile. The astounded look on her social worker’s face when the news was announced was almost comical. In fact, the woman was so relieved that she hardly protested when Cassidy leaned forward, pulled the file towards her, and began to read. She’d started skimming through all of the bulleted notes and was on the fourth page when a picture fell out of the folder. Everything else disappeared as she came face to face with the man who, after abandoning her for fifteen years, was suddenly the only family she had left.

Cassidy’s hand strayed to the notebook in her lap and slowly flipped to the very last page. There, carefully pasted onto the very last sheet of lined paper, was a slightly faded copy of her parents’ wedding picture.

She couldn’t resist. Laying her notebook open carefully on her tray table, Cassidy let her eyes roam over the smiling faces in the photograph. Penned under the picture in fresh black ink were the names Jackson Taylor and Jennifer Levine. Studying the photograph, Cassidy could almost convince herself that her parents were actually in love. It wasn’t just that her father’s arm was wrapped around her mother’s waist, or that her mother had placed her hand on his chest. It was the unadulterated joy in their eyes, meant only for one another. After watching her mother for so many years, Cassidy could honestly not recall a single moment where her mother had ever looked at any other male the way she did the man opposite her in that photograph. Their chemistry was undeniable.

Fat load of good it did for their marriage. It didn’t stop her father from moving out, or, as the file had so casually mentioned, from getting remarried to some woman named Rita Carlson.

Cassidy sat back against her seat with a sigh, massaging her temples. The file had described her father’s wife as a series of bullet points: blonde, thirty-six years of age, blue-green eyes, working in retail. Rita Carlson would just have to stay out of her way, that’s all. Her stepmother would do her thing, and she would do hers. Cassidy’s expression hardened. The woman may be her stepmother, but there was no rule in the book dictating her absolute adoration of said stepmother.

Enough said.

The captain’s voice broke through her thoughts once again, this time announcing their descent into the Los Angeles International Airport. After glancing at the photograph one last time, Cassidy stowed her notebook away in her bag. As the plane experienced some slight turbulence while it dipped its way through the clouds, those who happened to glance in Cassidy’s direction would have seen a small smile flicker briefly across her lips. But a second glance would have changed their minds. There was no smile; nothing other than polite indifference.

As the plane came to a halt outside the gate, Cassidy stood, collected her bags from the overhead compartment, and followed her fellow passengers down the jetway.

--

Finding a spot next to the baggage carousel was proving to be a much more difficult task than Cassidy had originally envisioned it to be. Exhausted, she watched in dull fascination as over-eager passengers swamped the baggage claim, jostling each other as they anticipated their bag being the next multi-colored suitcase being spat out by the metal monstrosity. Had she not been so damn tired, she might have found it amusing to watch grown adults catfight over a bag. But now, it just seemed stupid. And annoying.

Cassidy glanced around wearily. Within moments of arriving at the baggage claim, she had been pushed, shoved, stumbled into, and stepped on. Only one person had voiced a gruff “sorry,” but by the time she’d turned to acknowledge him, the man had already walked away. She shook her head. At least she hadn’t been knocked over.

As if that wasn’t enough, people apparently didn’t understand the concept of moving away from the carousel after collecting their luggage; opting instead to linger where their bags had fallen and chatter with their entourage. Cassidy rubbed at her temples, feeling the telltale headache growing behind her eyes. Why people couldn’t wait to reminisce about how long it’s been since they’ve seen each other until after they move away from the baggage claim was beyond her comprehension.

What all of this led down to was the simple fact that she was nowhere close to picking up her luggage. Cassidy glanced at the clock. She literally had fifteen minutes to grab her things before her father was due to arrive, and her hopes of raiding a Starbucks were wilting rapidly. Spotting an empty space near the bend of the carousel, Cassidy hurried forward.

Suddenly, something rammed into her side. Frantically, Cassidy instinctively reached out with her arms, her cast making a resounding crack as it slammed against the concrete floor.

There was a high-pitched shriek. “Oh, my GOD!” somebody squealed frantically. “Libby, are you—

“Oops,” an artificially sweet female voice cut through the hyperventilating blabber. “I’m so sorry.”

Yeah, right…

Ignoring her protesting muscles, Cassidy pushed herself up off the floor. She rubbed at her elbow; there was definitely going to be a bruise there come morning. She took a deep breath, forcing herself to lock down her emotions. It’s not like these people gave a crap about her anyway.

Cassidy exhaled and looked up.

Two girls stared down at her. The first hovered in the background, eyes anxious as they flitted nervously between Cassidy and the floor. Her hands fiddled with everything she could reach, from her dirty-blonde hair to her purse to the edges of her shirt. Though she had been swathed in designer clothing and accessories, she still seemed uncomfortable. It was as if she was afraid that her presence would be noticed.

The other girl, however, had no such problem.

“You really should watch where you’re going,” she said sweetly, a patently concerned look in her gorgeous hazel eyes. Her gaze traveled downwards and lingered deliberately over Cassidy’s cast. “You might hurt yourself.”

Cassidy raised an eyebrow.

If the first girl had tried to avoid attention, this one had gone out of her way to attract it. Golden blonde hair, wide hazel eyes, and a pert mouth combined with a slim figure had made the girl a natural beauty. From the arrogant tilt of her head, she was well aware of it.

Though she, like the first girl, was adorned in designer attire, there was just something about her that made the other look like a weak imitation. It was in the way she smiled, the way her eyes trailed flirtatiously over every male in the vicinity, drinking up every gape, catcall, and lustful gaze sent her way and loving every minute of it.

Her lungs tightened with scorn.

I hate attention whores.

Nevertheless, she met the other girl’s gaze steadily.

“Oh, I can take care of myself,” she replied, her voice dulcetly smooth as her lips set in a mocking imitation of the other girl’s smile. “But I appreciate the concern.”

...Bitch.

The other girl paused.

Cassidy gazed at the girl, her inner fury masked by her calm expression. She didn’t care that the girl had no idea how her arm had been broken; the insinuation was more than enough to set rage coursing through her veins. Had Cassidy been any less exhausted, she might’ve been alarmed at her reaction. But now, all she wanted was for the blonde to make another move. Just one more. She was tired, but she still had more than enough energy to take down Miss Malibu Barbie.

Just give me a reason.

The seconds dragged on.

Then, suddenly, a name slipped breathlessly from the lips of the until-then silent girl standing behind the blonde.

“Ryan!”

At the sound of that name, Cassidy saw the blonde’s eyes widen. But the action was so slight, so minute, that had she not been watching the other girl’s every move she would’ve never noticed it.

“Chloe,” drawled a light tenor voice. “What’s happening?”

The girl continued, “What are you doing here? I thought—”

“Ryan Dominic Maddison.” The blonde sailed forward, all traces of surprise replaced with a dazzling smile. Cassidy watched, temporarily forgotten, as the girl swept past her, strategically placing herself in front of the other girl. “Long time no see.”

“And whose fault is that?”

The blonde giggled and walked forward. “Give me a hug, you.”

There was a chuckle, then the unmistakable rustle of cloth as the two embraced.

Cassidy rolled her eyes. She had nothing against public displays of affection, but the girl was obviously just looking for more attention, and she had more than enough as it was.

“And who is this?”

Cassidy had no doubt that the question was directed at her.

She looked up.

A pair of attractive blue eyes gazed at her with lazy curiosity. His hair, a blend of dark brown melded with strands of dirty blonde, was carelessly tousled, as if he’d just rolled out of bed.

But Cassidy knew better. His hair may have looked casual, but judging from the carefully matched gray-blue shirt and weathered vintage jeans that adorned his body, this boy was anything but nonchalant about his appearance.

His lips were set in a mocking half-smile as he locked eyes with her, even as the other girl’s hands were practically undressing his upper body. Slowly, he trailed a taunting gaze down to her legs, pausing deliberately at her chest before making his way slowly back up to her face.

Cassidy arched an eyebrow.

“See something you like?” she asked, her voice cool.

“Maybe,” the boy answered, eyes unreadable as they locked back on hers. “Why?” There was a pause. A smirk crept across his face as his eyes slid over her again. “What’s it to you?”

The suggestive undertones in his gaze were nauseatingly blatant.

“Oh, I just didn’t want to intrude on your little…reunion,” she replied, flashing her sweetest smile in his direction. “I mean, you do have an amoeba on your arm.” As the boy’s eyebrow rose, Cassidy turned up the wattage on her smile. “You wouldn’t want her feelings to be hurt, would you?”

“Oh, her?” The boy looked down thoughtfully at the girl fawning over his chest. A moment later, he looked back up and shrugged dismissively. “It’s okay,” he said, a glint in his eye. “She doesn’t care.”

Cassidy snorted derisively.

“Besides,” he continued, gesturing at himself with his amoeba-free arm, “why fix what’s not broken?” His lips curved into a feral smile. “You don’t seem to mind.”

Cassidy couldn’t help it. Her mouth dropped open. Or rather, she ground her molars together to prevent her mouth from doing exactly that—something the boy didn’t fail to notice. His smirk widened.

Irritated, Cassidy opened her mouth, but was interrupted by a yell.

“Ryan, where the hell are you?”

Something flickered in the boy’s eyes, but it was gone as fast as it came.

“We’re right here, dude.” He glanced down at the girl. “Let go, Libby,” he said, his tone curiously neutral. Cassidy looked between the two, slightly confused. What was going on?

“Aw, c’mon, Ryan,” the girl protested, a slight whine in her voice.

For the first time since they met, Cassidy watched Ryan turn all of his attention to the girl clutching at his shoulder. Cassidy watched, fascinated despite her weariness, as he gazed down into the other girl’s eyes wordlessly. She didn’t understand what had passed between them, but it worked. Libby let out a long-suffering sigh and reluctantly drew back from him.

“Hey Ryan,” a voice called. Ryan looked up, and a smile spread across his face.

“Hey man, what’s up?” Ryan clasped hands with the dark-haired boy coming through the crowd.

“Not much,” the boy smiled sheepishly, giving a quick hug to Chloe before turning back to his friend. “Sorry I’m late; Coach went crazy on my ass for missing the pre-season meeting this morning. ”

“Hey,” Ryan held up his hands, “not my fault. I told Coach that you had to miss the meeting for some personal stuff.”

“It’s fine,” the boy shook his head. “He wasn’t actually that angry; you know how Coach gets.” His eyes darted to Cassidy, who was still sitting on the floor. “Wait…why is she on the floor?”

“Libby knocked her over a few minutes ago,” said Ryan.

“And you didn’t bother to help her back up,” the boy sighed, more of a statement than a question.

“Nope.”

“You’re such an asshole,” the boy shook his head. Without waiting for a reply, he dropped down to his knees and reached his hands out to Cassidy. Slightly amused, she took them and let the boy help her to her feet. As she straightened, the boy took the opportunity to grab the fallen bags off the ground.

“I sincerely apologize for my friend’s lack of manners,” he said gravely. “That was incredibly rude of him.”

Neither Cassidy nor the boy missed the snort coming suspiciously from Ryan’s direction.

“It’s all right,” Cassidy replied, her face just as grave. “Thanks for helping me up.”

“No problem,” the boy replied solemnly, the twinkle in his hazel eyes betraying his mirth as he handed Cassidy her things.

A sound of disbelief dragged itself from Ryan’s lips. Cassidy couldn’t help the grin that spread across her face.

At that, the boy chuckled and dropped his act. He stuck out his hand. “James Marriner. Most people call me Jamie. And I meant what I said,” he added, sincerity apparent in his eyes. “I’m sorry Ryan’s being such an ass.”

“And as I meant what I said; no problem.” Cassidy took his hand, smiling. “Cassidy Taylor. Nice to meet you.”

“Likewise.” Jamie grinned. His expression soured as he glanced at his friend. “I assume Ryan didn’t bother introducing himself either.”

Cassidy shook her head silently.

“Well,” Jamie glared at his friend, “the rude one is Ryan Maddison.”

Ryan nodded to Cassidy, his blue eyes cool. Cassidy returned his nod. No lost love between them, that was for sure.

“This is Chloe,” he gestured at the quiet girl, who returned Cassidy’s smile with a tentative quiver of her lips.

“What about me?” Libby pouted, her hands propped on her hips.

“And,” a grin spread across Jamie’s face as he turned to face the blonde, “the beautiful one is Libby Hamilton.” His smile widened. “My girlfriend.”

Cassidy blinked. Girlfriend? But I thought…

Her eyes flickered over to Ryan, who was watching her with an impassive expression in his blue eyes.

“Oh, so now you remember,” Libby sniffed, crossing her arms in front of her chest. “I thought you’d forgotten about me, talking to other girls like that.” Her eyes dared Cassidy to interfere. Cassidy raised her hands slightly, too amused to care. She glanced over at Ryan, and knew from the smirk on his face that he’d seen the exchange.

“How could I forget you?” Jamie grinned. He opened his arms. “Come here, you.”

Cassidy turned her head away politely.

“See? I told you she wouldn’t mind.” Ryan murmured in her ear. She whirled around, startled; when did he get so close?! “Relax,” he said, watching her amusedly. His grin turned taunting. “Haven’t you ever seen two people kiss before?”

God, his arrogance was insufferable!

“Are you always such a drama queen, or is it just special for me?” Cassidy asked, deliberately widening her eyes.

That startled a chuckle out of him. “Just for you, baby,” he returned, his smirk back in place. “Just for you.”

“Uh huh,” Cassidy rolled her eyes, taking a look at the clock and hastily shifting her attention to the baggage claim. Five minutes.

As luck would have it, she quickly spotted her battered black luggage case coming around the corner of the baggage carousel. The worn canvas handles were fraying at the edges, and the rest of the misshapen case looked like it had been beaten with batons—which it probably had, being one of the confiscated suitcases left with social services. But the zippers still worked, and she’d been able to patch up most of the holes in the canvas. One of the social workers had offered to buy her a new one, but Cassidy declined; she wouldn’t have been able to pay the lady back anyway, and social worker salary barely covered household expenses.

The clinking of the baggage carousel’s metal plates drew Cassidy’s attention, and she leaned forward to grab her bag. Her right hand closed around side handle, and her left hand went for the top. However, there was a slight problem. Her left hand, unusually clumsy from the cast, fumbled in its grab. As a result, Cassidy nearly found herself dragged onto the baggage claim as the metal monstrosity moved forward. Gritting her teeth, Cassidy dug her heels into the ground. After a brief struggle, she finally tugged her luggage case from the baggage carousel. She winced slightly, her muscles still stiff from her six-hour flight. Making a face, she bent down to retrieve her backpack.

When she straightened, she found herself staring straight into Ryan Maddison’s eyes.

She blinked, startled. Seriously; what was with this guy?

When Ryan didn’t desist from his apparently thorough inspection of her face, Cassidy’s patience wore out.

“Keep staring,” she said, her voice tart. “I might do a trick.”

“Which one?” Ryan asked smoothly. “Sit, jump, or,” he paused, a glint entering his eye, “roll over?”

This time, Cassidy didn’t even bother hiding her eye-roll.

“Ryan, we’re leaving,” Jamie’s voice drifted over to them. “Come on!”

Cassidy tilted her head up towards Ryan.

“Oh, I’m so sorry you have to leave,” she said, every sugarcoated word laced with sarcasm. “Too bad you couldn’t stay just a little longer.”

“Oh, you know how it is,” Ryan replied, smirking. “Places to go, people to see.”

“Yeah, I’ll bet,” Cassidy muttered.

“What was that?”

“Oh, nothing,” she smiled brightly at the boy, who raised one skeptical eyebrow.

“Ryan! We’re leaving, now.” The high-pitched voice was Libby’s.

“Your mistress is calling,” said Cassidy, a wicked grin on her face. “Now be a good boy and heel.”

The glint in Ryan’s eyes told her that he’d caught onto the double entendre and her reference to their conversation earlier. But when he didn’t speak, Cassidy knew she’d won this round.

“RYAN!” Libby’s impatient voice reached a high note and broke. “Come on.”

Ryan’s smile stayed in place, but Cassidy thought she might have seen a hint of annoyance in his blue orbs.

But once he blinked, everything was back to normal.

“Well, duty beckons,” he said dryly. “Try not to miss me too much.”

“Don’t worry,” Cassidy said under her breath as she watched the boy join his three friends. “I won’t.”

Once she was sure the four friends had exited the building, Cassidy let out a sigh and made her way over to a bench cemented to a ceiling support. She slumped against the pillar, and for a moment let herself go completely. As fun as it’d been to have a verbal sparring match after six hours on a plane, she was tired.

Taking a deep breath, she let her eyes flutter shut. Just for a moment.

“Cassidy?”

Her eyes flew open. As she scrambled to her feet, she forced her back straight. She didn’t want her father’s first impression of her in fifteen years to be marred by anything, no matter how exhausted she was.

For a moment, she found herself staring at the man before her. As his calm hazel eyes gazed back at her, Cassidy finally realized why people back home had never associated her with her mother. Though she had her mother’s almond eyes and dark hair—courtesy of her mother’s half-Chinese heritage—she shared an uncannily similar facial structure with her father. She’d never understood why her mother, in her drug-ridden state, refused to look at her; but now, looking into a face so similar to hers, she did.

She mustered up a smile, and stuck out her hand.

“Hi Dad.”

--

A/N: Sorry for the long wait! This is the retooled version of my original "Take Five". Actually, this is just the first two chapters combined and rewritten...ish. If you have the time, or feel inclined to make my day, please review. It will literally make my day )