CASSIDY #4
I don’t know how to argue with that. I don’t even know if I want to.
The silence stretches between us, every second feeling worse than the last.
“You should be worrying about your career,” he says eventually. “Building your future. Making mistakes. Figuring out who you are.”
The words hit hard enough to make me flinch, and I stare at him.
“Maybe it’s my age,” I say bitterly, “but I don’t understand what this has to do with anything.”
His expression tightens. “You don’t need to.”
It’s clearly a decision that’s already been made. One I was never invited into.
I stare at him. My mouth won’t work, and my brain is practically dead from the humiliation.
And yet, somehow, he makes it worse and worse, until I want to disappear inside my own skin.
I swallow hard, avoiding his gaze. I didn’t say anything.
I didn’t confess my pathetic crush. I didn’t tell him how often I think about him.
How much his approval matters.
How much he matters.
And yet, somehow, he knows.
Somehow, he’s rejected me anyway.
“We’re done here,” Harlan says, his tone devoid of any emotion. “Get all of this typed up properly and email it out. Actually—send it to me first so I can check it over.”
I nod. The dismissal is clear. The door is closed. We’ve got nothing left to say.
Lovely.
I gather my laptop and my notes, nearly tripping over my own feet as I grab my things.
This is mortifying.
Soul-destroying.
And yet, he’s somehow completely unaffected.
Everything inside me feels wrong. Too loud. Too heavy. Too much.
And yet, he’s just sitting there, not a hair out of place, no issues at all.
This is perfect.
“Thank you,” I mumble, hating myself for it.
What am I even thanking him for? The meeting? The campaign? The… whatever the fuck this was?
I don’t know, and thankfully, Harlan doesn’t answer.
Or maybe he does.
I can barely hear anything anyway. My ears are ringing, and I can’t focus.
Don’t want to focus.
I make it halfway to the door before risking a glance back.
Stupid girl. I’m a stupid girl.
Harlan is exactly where I left him. One hand braced against the table, head lowered, but fine.
I leave his office, closing the door gently behind me, and make my way to my own.
My legs might be trembling, but I keep my head held high and avoid everyone’s eyes.
Only when I’m safely inside my space do I breathe.
Not properly.
Just enough that my lungs remember they have a purpose beyond sitting uselessly inside my chest.
I lock my door, not wanting anyone to disturb me, and kick off my shoes before flicking the light off. If I had water, I’d clean my skin of this stupid scent neutraliser.
Instead, I grab my laptop, burrow into my nest, and hunker down under my blanket.
I sniff it deeply, for once not caring who gave it to me. My shoulders loosen almost immediately, some part of me settling despite everything. Breathing this in is the easiest breathing I’ve done since the moment.
If Harlan were here, I could focus on being annoyed with him. I could focus on his clipped voice, his impossible standards, the way he can make a simple instruction sound like a royal decree.
Instead, all I have is the embarrassing memory of what I did.
And unfortunately, my brain has no manners. Rather than letting me hide from the shame of what I did, it keeps replaying the exact thing I’m hiding from.
The way he looked at me.
The way his gaze dropped to my mouth.
The way his fingers flexed before he touched my hair, as if even that tiny movement cost him something.
My hand curls tighter around the blanket.
Stop it, Cassie. Stop.
I close my eyes.
It doesn’t help.
Behind my eyelids, he’s there again. Close enough that my stupid body still thinks reaching would fix something.
He touched me like I was something delicate enough to ruin. Then told me I was too young to understand why.
My throat tightens.
Maybe he’s right.
Maybe I am young. Maybe I am naive. Maybe every stupid feeling inside me shows on my face because I never learnt how to hide wanting too much.
Maybe that’s all this is.
Maybe Harlan looked at me and saw exactly what everyone else sees.
A problem.
My stomach twists. If I’d been more professional, none of this would’ve happened.
He’d still be looking at me with that quiet respect I’ve spent months fighting for.
And yet, I’ve ruined it.
The thought hurts enough that I curl tighter beneath the blanket. Tears sting behind my eyes, but I scrub them away before they fall.
Crying won’t fix the truth.
That I’m an omega who keeps wanting things she hasn’t earned.
I squeeze my eyes shut. Whatever I thought doesn’t matter. What matters is that I ruined the one good thing we had.
Ruined the little use I had finally earned.
That I pushed too far.
That I wanted too much.
Again.
My gaze drops to the blanket pooled beneath my chin. The nest I’ve built around myself. The scents woven through it.
Comfort. Safety.
Belonging.
Things I’ve spent my whole life trying to earn.
The worst part isn’t that Harlan rejected me.
The worst part is that he made me realise how badly I’d wanted him not to.