Penelope

The pub I'm at with Gemma and Morgane is hazy and smells of stale booze and deep-fried food. Just like any other pub, pool tables line the far wall and the bar is busy with an abundance of men and women. They fix their gazes on the large screens hanging above. Garlands line the TVs and holly accents them. They laugh over fruity drinks, and heels click against the hardwood. Friends play loud games of pool.

Sighing, I lean my cheek against my fist and pick at the plate of vegetarian nachos. They're delicious, but my appetite is limited tonight. As is my urge for drinking. I've been nursing the same margarita for the past hour. Although I'm present, I'm not mentally here. My mind has been wandering, always jumping back and forth between Patrick and Cassian and my biological parents. I never expected facts and fiction to take such a drastic turn. Now, the water is murky; I can't decipher the difference between lies and the truth. Which is why I can't blame Patrick for needing evidence to back-up Ophelia's words.

The fallout of this mess concerns me. I hope it isn't overwhelming him. Tonight's the night they're ambushing Renée and Doug. Cassian's been keeping me updated on the plan. They're to have dinner at Renée and Doug's house tonight. Ophelia will distract the parents while Patrick and Cassian search for the files.

Cassian.

I suppress a sigh. Putting distance between us has affected me—and it's only been two days. But I have to cut myself some slack. Ever since joining Cassian and Jake's team, I've basically seen Cassian every day. I miss our daily banter and the lingering scent of cigarette smoke. It's faint, never too overpowering, but it's there. It's so... so... Cassian. I miss his crude, immature sense of humour. The twinkle in his brown eyes. His kisses.

My longing to be near him isn't the elephant in the room, though. It's my lack of guilt. I should feel guilty for allowing Cassian to take over. Patrick is my brother, meaning this conversation should've been my responsibility. Not Cassian's. But I've had enough. I'm wishing I'd only met Patrick and coaxed him to join my family. Trying to convince Patrick that Ophelia's words held truth wouldn't have been good for me. Instead of feeling guilty, all I feel is gratitude. I'm grateful I have Cassian.

He's too good for this world, imperfections and all.

Beneath the table, Gemma kicks my shin. I glance at her and the plate of deep-fried pickles in front of her. She's been strict with her diet while pregnant, so she likes to call days like today "cheat" days. I think it's a stupid concept. As long as you eat salty or sugary food in moderation, it's good for you. There's no such thing as "cheat" days. Eat whatever the hell you want to eat—just be careful.

"Cassian will be fine," she repeats.

Next to her, Morgane snorts. She picks at the half-eaten plate of fries. "You're worried about Cassian? That man could charm his way out of any situation." She cocks her head to the side. "Don't feel guilty for wanting to come home, either."

A small crease forms between my brows. "I'm not guilty. I miss him." My posture slouches. "Does that make me sound desperate?"

"No," Morgane and Gemma reply in unison.

"You're allowed to miss someone," Gemma continues, resting her hand on my wrist. She gives it a squeeze. "What's going on right now? It's insane. I can't believe your biological parents would lie to Patrick about who his actual father is. That's preposterous. Remember, this affects you, too. You thought you'd be able to have a conversation with them, Patrick by your side. They flipped the tables on both of you."

I expel a deep breath. Gemma's right, of course. My mental health is important, too. Getting away from the drama was important. Over the past two days, I've been working to clear my thoughts. If Patrick tags along with Cassian, I want to be supportive. He's my brother, and I love him. I'll provide comfort and support his family could never. And, if he wants to, he can join in on the Montgomery family. God knows if we had been up for adoption as twins, Mom and Dad would've taken us in.

"You're right," I admit. "Cassian can weather the storm. He's—"

"Too good for this world," Morgane finishes, rolling her eyes. "We know. He's a cheeky, immature bastard, but his heart is gold. That's how it's always been. Ever since high school."

Gemma picks at her food, a bittersweet smile on her face. She's told me all about the terrible past she and Jake had. I find their story unique in the sense that they could overcome what happened. Few people have the tools to do that. What Jake did was terrible—and he paid for it. He also proved people can change. When I met Jake, I never would've expected him to bear such terrible actions. He spread a horrifying rumour about Gemma, one that destroyed her reputation. Clearly, it shouldn't have. Someone's sexual preferences don't define who they are. Even if Gemma had slept with the football team... well, who the fuck cares? They overrate the concept of virginity. It's nothing special. I had sex with my ex. Not being a virgin will not dictate how sex with Cassian feels (whenever we decide to do it).

Sex aside, I turn my train of thought back to Jake and Gemma. In the same breath, Gemma proved the same thing. She clawed her way back to the surface and healed. She found forgiveness and released those emotions that kept her anchored in the past. Personally, she could've avoided spiking the pasta with laxatives, but I forgave her for that a long time ago. Looking back, it's hilarious.

They both made mistakes. They both needed to learn lessons. Jake and Gemma weathered the storm and came out stronger. They're perfect for each other.

She must be able to tell I'm thinking of her past because she says, "Sometimes, I think someone knocked some sense into Reid." Gemma shifts her gaze to me. "I think Cassian knocked some sense into Reid."

I blink. Cassian would never partake in a fistfight without a valid reason. And by valid, I mean self-defence or defending the people he loves. "Why do you think that?"

"I know," Gemma says, devouring another deep-friend pickle smothered in ranch sauce. "It sounds crazy, but hear me out. Cassian isn't one to fight, but he was the only person on the football team who tried to smother the rumours. When I told him my parents and Reid didn't believe me, he didn't react, but Cassian was fuming. His tone turns short and clipped when he's upset. That night, he surpassed being upset." Gemma frowns as she swirls her glass of lemonade around. Pulp rises to the surface before it settles again. I try not to cringe. Pulp in any type of juice is disgusting.

"Three weeks later," Gemma continues, "Reid was asking me questions with a killer black eye. He was listening to me. I'm ashamed Reid needed another man to tell him otherwise. However, I'm glad my brother made a turn around. There are lessons in life we all need to learn. Cassian forced him to learn one. Reid hasn't second-guessed my words since then. I think Cassian drilled a lesson into my brother with his fist."

Tapping my bottom lip, I ponder the possibility. Cassian is very passionate about protecting the people he loves. I've seen it. I've experienced it. A family member suppressing another family member's voice would piss him off. There's no doubt. "I can see that," I admit. "Cassian and I have discussed his experience with high school before. He always beats himself up, saying he should've done more."

Gemma's face is obscured by a soft, sympathetic smile. She adjusts the sleeve of her baggy sweater, pushing it past her elbow. "Trust me, he always relays that information to me. All that matters is he tried. He gave me support and knew the truth. People don't give that man enough credit. He's a very complex character, and his own worst enemy is himself. If I could name one negative trait, that would be it. He has an unpleasant habit of second-guessing himself."

Morgane snorts. "You're not implying Cassian supporting Jake was a good thing, are you? Don't get me wrong—your man is fine now—but he didn't deserve any support."

"He's not my man, Morgane. We don't own each other."

Rolling her eyes, Morgane grabs a yam fry from her plate and pops it in her mouth. "You know what I mean."

Gemma flicks her gaze back to me and shakes her head. "Anyway, Cassian did the right thing. Jake needed someone to guide him, and that person wasn't me. Without Cassian, I don't know where Jake and Hanna would've ended up. I can also vouch for Jake. Ever since we made amends, not a day has gone by where he doesn't show how much he loves me. He's always trying to make up for what happened."

Morgane snorts. "No wonder you're pregnant."

Gemma slaps her shoulder. "That's not what I meant!" she laughs. "What I meant was that people can change. Jake knows what he did was wrong, and he takes full accountability for it. Remember when they used to say 'silence is golden?' Well, they should change it to accountability is golden. If they taught people to accept accountability, the world would be a better place." She pauses, the corner of her mouth curving upward. "Besides, all Jake and I do now is laugh about our past. About how ironic it is that drama brought us closer."

A teasing smile plays across my lips. "Like spiking our pasta with laxatives really brought the team together?"

A fried dill pickle slips from her grip, causing ranch dressing to splatter everywhere across the table. Gemma's face turns bright pink, and she nearly chokes. "I... That... Penelope."

I'm overtaken by a fit of laughter. I'm laughing so hard my stomach hurts. "I'm... I'm sorry," I gasp, tears trickling down my cheeks. It wasn't fun to experience explosive diarrhea, but I enjoyed watching Olive embarrass herself. I also made it to the bathroom before anything embarrassing happened publicly. My grudge would've been stronger had Gemma only added laxatives to my dish. She didn't, though. Jake, Cassian, Albert, Olive, Nolan, and a few others experienced, too. I wasn't alone.

Gemma drops her face into her hands and sighs, shaking her head. She mumbles several words that are incoherent to my ears. Assuming her words match the look on her face, she's mumbling profanity.

"Come on, Gemma," Morgane laughs. She nudges her in the ribs again. "Lighten up. Penelope's teasing you. Goddamn, I wish I would've been a fly on the wall." Morgane's eyes glitter with mischief. She leans forward, the sequins of her fancy top shimmering. "Was it worth it? Seeing that psychotic bitch fall?"

My fit of laughter fades into a sigh. "It was," I admit. "At first, I thought Jake was overreacting... until the point I saw Olive corner Jake. When I was working with Olive and her team, our company held a Christmas party. She cornered him in the bathroom and got a little handsy." I glance down at my nachos, pushing the plate towards Gemma and Morgane. Morgane helps herself, adding extra guac to the mix. Although the topic has shifted, I'm too concerned about Cassian to think about eating. "I'm surprised Jake didn't report her for sexual assault. Looking back, I wish I would've raised my voice. What Olive did wasn't right. Seeing her face retribution was iconic, though."

Morgane picks up another chip and inspects it. Salsa slides down the chip, forming a puddle on the sticky table. "It scared Jake. He thought Olive would try to spin the story and say he was the one who sexually assaulted her." She pops the chip in her mouth and chews, exchanging a nod with Gemma. "He told us after the whole mess blew over."

My mouth drops open. "Are... Are you serious? She wouldn't have stooped that low."

Gemma nods. "He assumed there were no witnesses to support him. He also didn't want to take the risk."

A crease forms between my brows. "So... So he just suffered in silence?"

"It's one of his flaws," Gemma sighs. "Raising Hanna made him good at obscuring his emotions. We've gotten into a few arguments about that. He's working on it, though."

"That's great," I smile.

To my left, a glass shatters against the floor. When I look down, I see a man has bumped into one of the servers. Glass and remnants of the drink decorate the floor. The man doesn't hesitate to drop to his knees and help the server pick up the larger pieces of glass.

I turn my attention back to the table, adjusting my seating. My jeans slide against the faux brown leather covering the cushion. As I expected, the atmosphere of the pub is shifting. Younger people have trickled in, and the music has switched from alternative to something with more bass. Soon enough, college kids are going to crowd every corner.

Glancing out the window, I see it's gotten darker. Stars are poking through the sky, despite the light pollution. They have turned even the Christmas lights outside on, adding a strange green-and-red glow to the parking lot and sidewalk.

I tighten the scarf around my neck, shivering as large snowflakes try to fall. The Island, thanks to proximity to the Pacific Ocean, doesn't get much snow. Which is why I'm looking forward to spending Christmas in West Kelowna, where snow is prominent. Snow adds that extra magical touch to the Christmas spirit. Seeing snow blanket the mountains and ground... The edges of the lake covered in ice... It all makes me think of my childhood.

"So," Gemma says. "How are things with Cassian?"

"What's he like in bed?" Morgane pipes up.

Directing my gaze to the floor, I clear my throat. "We haven't slept together yet. We're taking it slow. He's afraid of moving too fast."

Gemma nods and takes a sip of her water. She sets the glass down on a cork coaster. "That makes sense. I'm glad he's transparent with you, Penelope."

"The wait must kill you, though!"

What Cassian wants and what I want doesn't matter. Although I'm ready to have sex with him, that doesn't mean we will soon. A relationship is made of equal parts. Sex doesn't happen until both partners are ready. Which is why the wait doesn't bother me at all.

"No," I reply. "I'll wait however long Cassian wants me to. In a relationship, give as much as you take. If you don't, the balance is nonexistent. Cassian's not ready for sex. Even if I am, I can't decide for us. We do that together."

I trace the rim of my glass, swiping at the condensation. Even if you're married or have been dating for five years, consent is key. To both partners.

Before Gemma or Morgane can respond, my phone goes off. When I pull the phone from my pocket, I see Cassian's name on the screen. I jump to my feet and send an apologetic look to the ladies. "I have to take this."

"Of course," Gemma smiles.

I take off before Morgane can say anything. My heels click against the refurbished hardwood as I wind my way through tables and chairs. I'm just passing the front door when I see Jake, Parker, and Nolan enter. They notice me, and we exchange nods. Nods that represent a silent hello. After that, I push the door open and head out onto the patio. It's being used as a smoking section. Three people are out here, causing cigarette smoke to waft through the air. While I'm not fond of the smell, it reminds me of Cassian. His cigarette scent is much more subtle, though. I jog to the far end of the patio and answer the phone.

"Cassian," I breathe.

"Did you just run a marathon?" he teases.

I grin up at the sky, snowflakes kissing my now-rosy cheeks. "If running across a pub counts as a marathon, then yes. Yes, Cassian, I ran a marathon."

He chuckles softly. "Hey, Pen."

"How did everything go?" I blurt. On Patrick's behalf, I'm hoping all went well.

"Not very good," Cassian replies. "We're on our way to Saanich now. I know I'm asking a lot, but could you pick us up at the airport in Vancouver? We... Patrick needed some space from his family."

My heart drops. Poor Patrick. I didn't want Ophelia's confessions to hold truth. "I'm sorry," I say, staring at the empty patio tables and upturned chairs. The owners of the pub have decorated the patio area with garland and strings of lights, but nothing more. "I should've been there. Of course I'll pick you guys up."

Thank God I've only had one drink.

"No," Cassian argues. "It was a shit-show. I'm glad you stayed away, Pen. Look, I have little time to talk. Patrick's in a rough state, Pen. He needs your support. We're boarding our plane now. After you pick us up, I'll help you set up somewhere for him to sleep."

My stomach sinks. The apartment I live in isn't very spacious. Instead of a couch, I opted for a lounge chair so I could fit in a dining room table. There's also only one bedroom. "Damn it," I curse. "I don't have a couch or an extra bed. There's no room for Patrick in my apartment. Unless..."

"I'm listening," Cassian says. He sounds exhausted, but his tone is still considerate.

"Unless he stays there and I can find another place."

Cassian's silent on the other end. Several seconds tick by. "Is it okay to leave him alone?"

"Probably not," I sigh, rubbing my numb cheek. The cold is seeping into my bones, through my jacket and jeans. I hate the damp coldness of Vancouver Island. It's like fog sticking to everything. Ghastly. At least in West Kelowna, there isn't a haunting dampness. Just arid.

I comb through my thoughts, wondering how we're going to create a plan. I'll have to talk to Patrick, but... A lightbulb goes off. "Patrick can stay at my place. I'll talk to him for a bit and gauge if it's safe or not, of course. To leave him alone. If he's okay and needs time to blow off steam... Do you... Do you think I could crash at your place?"

"You don't have to ask," he replies. "I've got plenty of space."

I detect a hint of nervousness in Cassian's voice. It makes my breath catch, but only for a moment.

"Okay," I nod. "That sounds perfect." On the other end, I hear some muffled noises. I'm unable to decipher what they are, but they're not of my concern right now. "So... I guess I'll see you later."

"Yeah," Cassian replies. "We'll talk soon, Pen. I'll text you the details before the stewardess rips my phone from my hands."

I'm about to wish him a safe flight when a thought occurs to me. A thought that makes my heart melt a little.

"Cassian?" I ask.

"Yeah?"

"Thank you for not driving."

The smile in his voice is prominent when he says, "I'll see you soon."