White Space Season 2

unconditional love was needed most?
    “I was worried about you,” Jon said. “That’s all.”
    “I’m a big girl, Jon Conway. I don’t need to be rescued, and this isn’t the end of Pretty Fucking Woman .”
    “Where’s this all coming from?” Jon said, flinching, suddenly not caring if his mounting frustration showed.
    “Where’s what coming from?” Cassidy asked, sipping her water, ready to self-sabotage her way through a fight.
    “This,” he said waving his hands between them, “this way you’re acting, like I did something wrong. I don’t get the hostility.”
    “Maybe I’m pissed because when the man who killed our daughter tried to kill himself, you stopped him!”
    Our daughter?
    Cassidy turned from Jon, seeming to notice her slip of the tongue, and set her water on the counter, refusing to make eye contact, crossing her arms and laying her head down, chin to chest.
    Jon couldn’t tell if her shuddering breaths were heaving through anger, tears, or both. Everything was happening too fast to pull sense from the sudden insanity. This was the third or fourth time he could remember Cassidy had slipped with something like that, calling Emma her daughter. Jon wanted to say something, but every thought in his head felt like one that might break her to pieces.
    Obviously, she realized her error. And clearly, she’s embarrassed.
    Jon couldn’t help it. “Why do you keep doing that?”
    “Doing what?” Cassidy asked, her head down and still avoiding his eyes.
    “Saying ‘our daughter.’ And you said ‘your daughter’ another time. What’s going on?”
    “No, I didn’t,” Cassidy said, shaking her head.
    She slowly lifted her head, and Jon studied her face, sorting lie from delusion.
    Did she really not notice?
    “I get that Emma’s your family,” he said, his voice as careful as it was gentle. “You’ve known her for nine years. She was closer to you than me. But she was my daughter, and if you think I don’t miss her, or that I’m not angry, you’re wrong.”
    Cassidy wasn’t crying, but her eyes were crimson, a shade darker than her face.
    “Then why did you stop him?”
    “Because I know Houser didn’t do it.”
    “How can you say that?” Cassidy screamed, fists balled at her side. “You saw the fucking video! You saw him carrying her out of the room! Even if you didn’t, Houser was the last person with her! We trusted him, and he took her from us.”
    Cassidy was shaking, on the verge of tears.
    Seeing her so close to the edge brought Jon closer himself. His chin quivered, but he staved off the tears, just as he would if cameras were rolling. He had to hold his shit together, for both their sakes.
    “I can’t explain it,” Jon said. “Other than I trust my gut. And Houser. You spend enough time with someone, you learn what they’re capable of. And I know he’s not capable of killing a child.”
    Cassidy glared at him, “People spend their lives with monsters they never see, Jon. Evil children, monstrous husbands, perverted people living in shadow. Blind love makes it easy to believe those ‘truth’s that are convenient to weave, what makes you think you know how to spot a monster?”
    Jon couldn’t help but feel as if Cassidy was flogging herself. She wasn’t evil, but did occasionally bubble with self-loathing. For what, he wasn’t sure.
    Then it hit him: Cassidy blamed herself for Sarah’s fate, and now for Emma’s.
    If she’d not gotten into trouble 10 years ago, if she wasn’t a worthless fucking addict , as she often said, the Conways would never have managed to coax Sarah into hiding her pregnancy from Jon. He probably would have returned to Hamilton and taken them both to Hollywood.
    The past month would never have happened.
    Sarah and Emma would both still be breathing.
    Something in Jon’s expression must have surrendered his thoughts. Their eyes met, Cassidy collapsed into his chest, sobbing.
    “It should’ve been me,” she wailed into his soon to be soaked shirt. “It should’ve been me dead. Not Sarah, or Emma.”
    Jon held her, trying to be strong; chewing his lip and willing himself not to cry. But cameras weren’t rolling, and with only Cassidy in his living room, Jon could do nothing to stop it.

    **

    Jon woke from his nap just as the sun was dipping behind the horizon.
    He looked over to see Cassidy, still in her pajamas, put on after her earlier shower. She was sleeping, eyes moving rapidly under her lids.
    They spoke for