ISAAC #3
I’ve seen what people with high needs do to a person—what they do to the people around them.
I won’t do it to her. To them. To anyone.
“What did he say?” she asks gently.
I could lie.
I could make a joke, redirect us to this new campaign, or even insult Harlan just to get her laughing again and not looking at me.
Instead, I look at her hands, noticing that her nails are painted some soft pink shade. Where the glittery silver was a surprise, this is the norm.
“We had a fight,” I admit. “Or the closest thing Evander and I get to one. We’re currently at an impasse—I won’t admit he was right.”
She nods carefully. “Is there a reason you don’t want to admit it?”
Fucking hell, she’s not pulling punches.
At least she’s not trying to gut me with it.
Don’t be a cunt, Isaac. He wasn’t trying to hurt you, either.
I laugh, but there’s nothing funny in it. “That’s the horrible part. I don’t know.”
She swallows, her eyes flicking over my face like she’s trying to find the answers.
“Well,” she says carefully, “I think you do, but right now, you’re hurt and maybe a little angry about the argument.”
My chest aches with her softness. With her care.
I shouldn’t be here.
I shouldn’t be soaking up her softness when the entire reason for this argument is my insistence that I’m strong enough to stay away from it.
Well—nothing romantically.
“Careful,” I murmur, trying not to breathe too deeply. “Keep saying things like that, and I’ll start thinking you like me more than you like Evander.”
Cassie’s blush deepens so quickly it almost hurts to watch. “I like both of you equally.”
Everything stops.
My breath. My thoughts. Whatever pathetic defence I’ve been pretending still exists between us.
Fucking hell.
She says it so simply. Like it doesn’t slide straight between my ribs and stay there.
“I mean—” Her eyes widen. “Obviously. As a friend. Not obviously, but… well, you know what I mean.”
I absolutely do not.
I know what I want it to mean. I know what it could mean.
Neither is what she means.
“Relax, shortcake,” I say, forcing a smile because one of us needs to survive this conversation. “I know what you mean. I like you, too. More than Evander, if we’re being honest.”
Her scent goes warmer.
It nearly kills me.
Then she hesitates, glancing at me again. “Do you want a hug?”
My first instinct is to say no.
Not because I don’t want one but because I want it too much.
If I let Cassidy put her arms around me while I’m this raw, I’m not entirely sure I’ll remember how to let go.
Or why I was ever supposed to.
But she’s watching me with those wide green eyes, soft and worried and open in a way I’ve never deserved.
And I’m tired of fighting it.
So fucking tired.
“Yeah,” I say quietly. “I really do.”
She stands immediately, rounding the desk with none of her usual hesitation, and I rise to meet her because making her bend down feels wrong.
She steps into my arms like fate has been waiting for us to stop being stupid, her cheek settling dangerously close to my scent gland.
Small. Warm. Sweet.
I close my eyes as she wraps herself around me, cheek pressed against my chest, hands careful at my back, breathing me in like she doesn’t realise she’s doing it.
For one stupid, perfect second, the whole world narrows to strawberry cream, vanilla musk, and the soft weight of a girl who still trusts me.
I hold her gently, resisting the urge to tuck my face against her throat and take more than a friend is allowed.
Because that’s all I am.
A friend.
The thought hurts more than it should.
Cassie shifts slightly against me, settling more comfortably into the embrace.
The movement sends another wave of her scent straight through me, and mine answers before I can stop it.
Strawberry cream.
Vanilla musk.
Home.
I close my eyes, just long enough to pretend this is more than what it is.
That it’s not just… borrowed time.
Just long enough to imagine—
Cassie suddenly goes completely still in my arms.
Every muscle in her body locks in place, and she gasps so quietly it comes out almost like an omega whine.
In any other situation, I wouldn’t have heard it.
But in the silence of her office, when it’s quiet enough for me to listen to each of her heartbeats, I hear it.
I can’t not.
My eyes open immediately. “Shortcake?”
Her fingers tighten against my shirt, clutching me closer, despite the sour panic cutting through her strawberry cream.
Slowly, she pulls back, and I don’t like the expression on her face. The way her eyes are filled with tears. The way her nose is scrunched up, and pain radiates through all that green.
Her gaze drops from my face to my throat, to my chest, then down to the shirt she’s just been clutching, right where my caramel scent has soaked into the fabric.
I don’t understand what she’s seeing.
I don’t understand what I’ve missed.
“What?” I croak out, my voice husky and wavering.
She looks at my face now, horror etched across her own. She doesn’t answer with words.
There’s no need—not when her scent answers for her.
Fuck.
I know that look. I’ve seen it on her face whenever I’ve been in the same room as her and Evander.
The realisation hits me a split second before hers does.
Fuck. No.
No, no, no.
Not like this. Not here.
Not fucking now.
Her eyes widen, and her lips part, colour draining from her face.
“Isa…”
My stomach drops at the way she whispers my name. At the pain laced through it.
At the confusion.
“Tell me it’s not true, Isaac,” she whispers.
Her scent spikes with something sharp enough to cut through every trace of butterscotch and caramel in the room.
Every single one of my worst fears latches onto it.
Of course.
Of fucking course.
This is exactly why I never told her. Because I knew one day she’d look at me like this, and I’d deserve it.
Like I’m not good enough for her. Like I’m the wrong man for someone as good as her.
She knows the truth now. She sees me for who I am.
Not safe Isaac. Not her friend Isaac. Not even nice Isaac.
She sees me as another one of her scent matches.
A man who has been keeping secrets from her.
A man who’ll need too much, take too much, and still never give enough back.
Her gaze searches my face, and I have to look away. I can’t stomach knowing that this look on her face was put there by me.
That I’m the reason she’s struggling so badly.
Fuck. It must’ve killed Evander all those weeks ago if she had even an ounce of this disgust when looking at him.
I don’t know why she’s still staring. What answers she’s still searching for.
I wish I did.
I only know that every second she keeps looking at me feels like being flayed alive.
“Isaac…” she repeats. “Please tell me the truth.”
The room suddenly feels too small.
Too warm.
Too bright.
My pulse pounds in my ears, and I’m torn between vomiting and passing out on the floor.
I know what she’s asking.
I know exactly what she’s asking.
And after months of avoiding this moment, there isn’t a single lie left available to me.
I swallow roughly.
Once. Twice. A third time.
Then, I nod, ever so slightly.
Cassie’s breath catches, and she covers her mouth as the tears finally fall.
The sound slices straight through me, and the weight on my chest gets heavier.
“What the fuck?” she whispers, the sound buried under her hands.
And yet, I still hear it.
Fuck.
Fuck.
Fuck.
It was never meant to be like this. She was never supposed to find out this way.
Every protective instinct I have screams at me to fix this.
To explain it to her.
To offer comfort.
To offer safety.
But I know she won’t want that from me.
That she can’t ever trust me again.
So, I stand there and watch her entire world rearrange itself around the truth I was too much of a coward to give her.
And for the first time since I met Cassidy Hargrove, I have no fucking idea how to make it better.
Because this time, it’s not Evander or Harlan who fucked things up.
It’s me.
Cassie lowers her hands slowly. Tears are still falling, leaving trails of wet on her cheeks that every instinct in me wants to erase.
I hate every single one of them.
“How long have you known?” she asks quietly.
I wish she’d shout. Or scream. Or even hit me.
Throw something at me.
Hell, throw me out.
Anything other than this… quiet, calm pain.
My stomach twists, and I wish that I could take this pain from her.
“Since the day you and Evander met,” I say, aiming for the same quiet tone she’s using, but I can’t.
Her eyes close, her nostrils flaring as she inhales. Against her will, I’m sure, her shoulders loosen ever so slightly at the butterscotch and caramel she finally knows is mine.
“All this time,” she says.
“Short—”
“Don’t call me that,” she says. It’s a plea, one that hurts more than if she’d yelled.
Fuck.
“Were you ever going to tell me?” she asks.
I swallow hard and look away again. The silence is clearly enough of an answer.
Her laugh breaks the quiet, and it’s laced with pain and bitterness.
Oh, I believe Evander now. He told me she had bite. Warned me, even.
I chose not to listen.
“Lovely,” she says, shaking her head. The tears are flowing faster now.
“I was trying to do the right thing,” I explain. “You’ve got so much to deal with. I didn’t want to be another thing you had to survive.”
The second the words leave my mouth, I know I’ve already lost.
Because her face crumples, and she turns away from me.
I’ve said the worst possible thing.
“The right thing?” she whispers, letting out a breath of frustrated air. “You came after Evander’s hurtful promises. You seemed to understand.”