After She's Gone (West Coast #3)

After She's Gone (West Coast #3) Page 40

“Maybe I’d just better go,” Cassie said woodenly. “I wanted you to understand why I made the suggestions I did to the script, but you’re not interested. It’s just making things worse, so forget it.”

“You made those changes to prove a point. Because you hate me.”

“You’ve got to be kidding.”

“You’ve always hated me. Been jealous as hell and regretted the day you suggested, no, begged me to come down here. But then I took you up on the dare, started auditioning for parts against you and blew you out of the water! Dad saw it the minute I took my first screen test and he dropped all of his interest in you because of me. I was his chance to revive his own career as a producer.” Her smile was almost evil. “Until I ditched him. Just like he dumped us.”

Cassie’s heart was pounding in her ears. “This is ridiculous,” she whispered, all the while knowing Allie wasn’t completely off the mark as far as her original intentions of getting Allie to come to California. Cassie had begged her to come, then regretted it when Allie’s celebrity had skyrocketed. But over time Cassie had mellowed, accepted that Allie was the better actress, the true star in the family. She didn’t want the argument to escalate, so she tried to back down. As rain pummeled the windows, Cassie used every device she’d learned from years in therapy to walk away before things got worse. She backed up a step, mentally counted to ten, then said, “I’m outta here,” and headed for the entry hall and her jacket.

“Sure,” Allie mocked. “Run away. That’s what you’re good at.”

Cassie fought the urge to bite back. This was childish. Stupid. Like all their dumb sibling stuff. She jammed her arms into the jacket’s sleeves.

“You’re absolutely pathetic,” Allie charged.

“I guess we’re even,” she stated flatly. “Because I wish you weren’t my sister, either.”

At that last salvo, Allie hurried after her, standing only inches from her as Cassie cinched the jacket’s belt tightly around her waist. “Get out and don’t come back.”

“You’ve been a pain in the ass forever, Allie.” Reaching for the door handle, she made the colossal mistake of adding, “I wish you’d never been born!”

Slap! Allie’s palm struck.

Pain exploded in Cassie’s head as it spun.

She stumbled back a step, recoiling in shock.

“Bitch!” Allie cried, her features twisted.

Anger pulsed red inside Cassie’s head. Every muscle in her body bunched. Without thinking she struck back, pushing her sister so hard Allie stumbled backward into the living room, her calves colliding with the edge of the coffee table, her feet coming out from under her. She’d landed on the floor, her head glancing off the arm of the sofa, her legs sprawled.

“Shit!” Allie cried. “You’re a freak. A fucking freak!” Frantically she scooted into a sitting position and rubbed the knot that was forming on the side of her head. “Something’s seriously wrong with you!”

The words rang far too true and they’d stung.

That instant Cassie’s rage ebbed.

Allie caught the change and realized she’d hit her mark, deep into the soft center of Cassie’s insecurities. “You need help. Serious help,” Allie charged. “I mean it. You should see a shrink. I mean a real psychiatrist, not Dr. Feel Good or whatever her name is. She’s not helping. In fact, I think you’re worse from seeing her!”

Pulling herself to her feet, Allie held on to the back of the couch for support, keeping the piece of furniture between them. “Do yourself and Mom and Trent and the whole damned world a favor, Cassie. Commit yourself! Or have the state do it! You’ve never been right since that creep nearly killed you!”

Allie’s anger had dissipated and she was shaking. Pleading. She’d wounded Cassie, yes, intended to hurt her, but she’d also made a painfully true point.

Cassie had backed away and wondered at her sister’s deep-seated hatred of her. Somehow she’d left. Cassie didn’t remember much about the drive home. Had she gone straight back to her hotel room? Or had she driven aimlessly around the rain-washed streets of Portland before returning to her suite and flinging herself onto her bed? Had she returned to Allie’s apartment? Lost track of time? Done something unthinkable, something she’d regret for the rest of her life? No! She couldn’t have. Yet, she shuddered. All she really recalled was that she’d woken up hours later with a serious migraine that had nearly kept her from the shoot.