Cassidy #2
“I grew up being the child everyone didn’t have to worry about,” he says carefully.
“The easy one. The calm one. The one who understood. If someone was upset, I fixed the room around them. If someone needed attention, I stepped back. If someone was falling apart, I made tea and made jokes and made myself smaller until I no longer mattered.”
My chest hurts for him, and selfishly, for me. Because I hear him. I understand him.
Because, in all the worst ways, I am him.
“And then Evander came along,” Isaac says, his mouth lifting faintly. “Loud, arrogant, emotionally catastrophic Evander, who somehow noticed every single time I disappeared and refused to let it happen.”
His eyes shine. He blinks it away before a tear can fall.
“Every single day, he has chosen me. He made room for me without making me ask for it.” His voice goes rough, and I’m captivated by his words. “And then he found you.”
Oh, fuck.
“He was terrified,” Isaac continues. “He’d handled it badly with you. I knew that. He knew that. But he wanted you so much, Cassie. He was trying to figure out how to fix what he’d broken, and then I realised I was your scent match, too.”
Silence spreads between us, and I don’t know what to do with it.
“I thought telling you would take something away from him,” Isaac admits. “Or from you. Maybe both. You were overwhelmed. Hurt. Trying to survive all of us, all of this job. And I told myself that adding me into the middle of that would be selfish.”
His gaze lifts to mine. “But that wasn’t the whole truth.”
My fingers go cold, and I hold my breath, waiting for whatever comes next.
“The whole truth is that I was scared,” he says.
So simply.
So… honest.
“I was scared that if I let myself want you openly, I’d once again find myself lacking. That if I let you choose me, I’d become another man you had to manage. Another problem to handle, another load to your life.”
I gasp, my scent drowning in horror as I stare at him. Isaac’s scent deepens, caramel turning almost burnt at the edges.
“You thought I didn’t want you,” he says, and there’s some anger in his voice now.
I freeze. My eyes burn, and I look away in shame.
“Didn’t you?” he asks.
“I did,” I whisper, unable to lie to him.
“I know.” His voice breaks slightly. “And I’m so sorry. That was never what this was about.”
My throat closes.
“I never hid because I didn’t want you, Cassie.
” He leans forward, then stops himself before the movement can be misinterpreted as pressure.
“I hid because I wanted you too much. Because every time you laughed at one of my jokes, or texted me late at night, or looked relieved when I walked into a room, I wanted to keep it. All of it. Every tiny piece of you that you gave me.”
My eyes fill.
No.
No, this isn’t fair.
It isn’t fair that his answer hurts and soothes at the same time.
It isn’t fair that part of me wants to cry because I wasn’t unwanted.
I was wanted too much.
And yet, the biggest part of me wants to scream because he let me believe I wasn’t.
“I thought if I stayed quiet, I could still be what you needed,” he says. “A friend who can be your safe space. A person who didn’t ask anything from you when everyone else was asking too much.”
My lips tremble.
“The one you could safely land with when you were overwhelmed, scared, and burnt out.”
“But you were asking something of me,” I whisper. “And you did that whilst lying to me.”
His face tightens. “I know.”
“You were asking me to trust you without telling me what I was trusting you with.”
Pain flashes across his expression. “I know.”
“You were asking me to be honest with you while you were hiding the one thing that would have changed everything.”
“I know.”
He’s not arguing. Not trying to defend himself or soften the blow.
He’s just… accepting the hurt he’s caused.
Is that normal? Is this what healthy people do? Or has he already given up?
I wanted him to argue. I wanted him to make it easier to stay furious.
“You made me feel foolish,” I say, the words barely audible. “Made me feel worthless.”
Isaac closes his eyes, and I immediately regret being honest.
I was harsh. I could’ve softened this. Been kinder about it.
I could’ve—
He opens his eyes again and nods.
“I know,” he says. “And I hate myself for it.”
I shake my head quickly, panic sparking. “Don’t do that.”
The words hang between us, and guilt twists painfully in my chest.
“Don’t make me feel sorry for you. You hurt me,” I murmur, looking down.
“You’re right,” he says immediately. “I’m sorry. I won’t interrupt.”
Even when he’s the reason I’m hurt, he’s the one I want to talk to about it.
The one I want to reassure me.
To promise me it’s all going to be okay.
For a moment, neither of us says anything.
I have no idea what to do with that.
The office hums around us, distant and muffled through the door, and I hate that the rest of the world is still moving while I’m sitting here with my ribs cracked open.
I press my fingers together in my lap, trying to control the trembling.
It doesn’t work.
“I want you to understand something,” I say eventually.
Isaac nods. “Okay.”
His voice is so gentle I almost lose my nerve.
Almost.
But if I don’t say it now, I don’t think I ever will.
And I’m tired. I’m so tired of making my pain more convenient for everyone else to handle.
“I know you didn’t mean to hurt me,” I whisper.
His jaw tightens, but he keeps looking at me, willing to hear me.
“But you did.”
“I know.”
“No.” My voice shakes. “I don’t think you do. Not really.”
He stills.
I look down at my hands because looking at him feels dangerous. His scent is too warm, too close, too Isaac, and a terrible part of me still wants to crawl into it like nothing happened.
Like it’s safe.
Like he’s safe.
“You were the first person here who didn’t make me feel like I had to prove something,” I say. “Evander wanted to fix me. Harlan wanted to push me away. Silas…” My throat tightens around his name, and I wish I had coated myself with scent neutraliser before this conversation.
I have no idea what Isaac can smell. What else he’s picking up about what happened between Si and me last night.
Isaac doesn’t move, though, just listens.
“Well, Silas doesn’t matter right now. It’s about what you did,” I say quickly.
His brows draw together briefly.
“You sat with me,” I whisper. “You made jokes. You noticed when I was overwhelmed. You didn’t make me ask for help, but you didn’t make me feel helpless either. You gave me everything I needed.”
His eyes shine again. I look away quickly.
“And I trusted that,” I continue. “I trusted you. I let myself fall for you, Isaac. This… it’s more than the deception. It’s more than losing a friend… but you broke my heart the same way you broke my trust, and I don’t know how to recover from that.”
The words hurt more than I expect them to. I don’t know how that’s possible when I’m the one saying them.
When I’m not the one they’re directed at.
But… he did break my heart. And I don’t think I realised that until now.
“You loved me?” he asks, his voice barely audible.
I don’t know if it could be described as love.
But I had affection.
Attraction.
“It wasn’t just… friendship to me. You were safe when everything else was confusing. When Evander was too much and Harlan was too cold and this job was too new and everyone kept looking at me like I was useless…” My breath catches. “You made me feel capable.”
Isaac’s face twists into an ugly expression.
“I never felt like I had to be… perfect or useful every second. I never had to pretend with you.”
His nostrils flare slightly, his scent sharpening with distress, and mine responds before I can stop it.
Fuck, this is a horrible smell.
I push on before he can speak.
“And I know what you’re saying, I do, but the moment I realised what we were… it felt like everything was a lie. That you realised our connection and decided I wasn’t good enough for you.”
My fingers curl into my skirt, and I blink back the tears, refusing to let them fall.
“Everything feels different now. It’s tainted.”
He lowers his gaze.
“You knew there was something between us before I even had a chance to understand what I was feeling.”
The room blurs.
Fuck.
No crying.
Not yet.
“I was falling for you, Isaac, and I hated myself for it. I knew it could never be real, that I was just… getting attached because you were kind to me.”
Isaac inhales sharply. A tear slips down my cheek, and this time, I don’t wipe it away fast enough.
“I know it wasn’t meant like this. Hearing your side has helped a little, and I can sort of understand why you did what you did,” I say softly.
“But you made a decision about what I could handle without giving me the chance to see for myself. Just like Evander did originally. Just like everyone keeps doing.”
His eyes open, and I know he wants to argue, but he can’t.
“And maybe you were kinder about it. Maybe you understood me better. Maybe you had better reasons.” I shake my head. “But it still left me as the last person to know what’s going on in my own life.”
Isaac looks wrecked, and I feel guilty.
But I can’t take it back.
At least, I don’t think I should.
“I never asked anyone to protect me from the truth,” I whisper.
His expression crumples, and he reaches for me before pulling himself back, choosing my comfort over his own.
It shouldn’t hurt the way it does. I’m the one putting the distance between us.
I’m the one hurting us both right now.
“And I need…” My voice falters. “I need to be chosen. Not hidden because I’m complicated. Not managed because I’m overwhelmed. I deserve to be chosen, Isa.”
I finally look at him properly, and even though he’s blurry in my gaze, I can see how devastated he looks.
“I need to know that when someone wants me, they aren’t ashamed of it.”
“I was never ashamed of you,” he says, rough and immediate.
“I know that now.” My lips tremble. “But I didn’t know it then.”
His scent burns darker, and mine seems to retreat from his intensity.
“And you let me feel that way,” I remind him.
There’s no real fixing this. Not quickly.