Cassidy #3
I understand what he’s said. I understand why he did it.
I think he now understands how I felt.
That’s all we can do. We can’t apologise and move past it.
Not without understanding it.
Not without knowing it won’t happen again.
Silence descends on us, and it’s only now I realise how exhausted I am.
Between last night’s breakdown and now this… I don’t have anything left to spare.
Eventually, Isaac exhales. “You deserved better from me, and I’m sorry, Cassidy.”
My throat tightens, and I sniffle.
“I should have told you the truth and let you decide what to do with it.”
I blink rapidly, a low whine escaping before I can hold it back.
Isaac grips the desk tighter, his knuckles turning white.
“I was a coward,” he says quietly.
The word makes me flinch, and I immediately shake my head.
Isaac notices, and his mouth twitches. “Sorry. That’s not me trying to make you feel sorry for me.”
I nod. “I know, but I stand by it. I understand you, Isa. I do. And I don’t think you’re a coward.”
His shoulders drop slightly. “I don’t think you’re foolish.”
The words catch me completely off guard, and my gaze lifts to his.
His eyes are locked on mine now, a soft expression on his face.
“I never thought you weren’t enough,” he continues.
The tears I’ve been fighting threaten to return.
Damn it.
“This entire time, I thought I was. Hiding, lying, deceiving, whatever word you want to use, it was all because I didn’t think I was enough.”
“I don’t know what to do with this,” I admit. “I understand why you lied, and I know you’re sorry. But I’m… I’m still hurting.”
A sad smile touches his mouth. “I know.”
Because, of course, he’d understand what I’m feeling when I can’t even understand it myself.
That’s the problem.
That’s always been the problem.
Isaac understands me so easily that I can relax around him. I can let my guard drop and trust him.
But whilst I’ve been relying on him, I’ve let myself forget that he’s carrying wounds, too.
I wipe at my eyes.
“I don’t want this to be the end,” I whisper because losing him still scares me more than forgiving him.
The words come out small, my voice quiet and meek, but they feel like an enormous admission.
“Me neither. And it won’t be.” He gives me a half-smile. “Let’s take the weekend, and maybe come Monday, if you’re feeling up to it, we can do breakfast, or lunch or—”
Relief crashes through me so suddenly I almost cry again.
He’s not giving up on me.
“I’d like that,” I whisper.
His scent shifts, warm but also a little bit sad.
“I’m proud of you, shortcake,” Isaac says softly.
Something twists painfully inside me, and I swallow hard before saying the thing I’m scared to say.
“I don’t hate you.”
The words escape before I can stop them.
Isaac freezes, and it takes a second, but then the butterscotch and caramel flood the room, deeper and more intoxicating than they have before.
“I needed to hear that,” he says. “I had no idea I was so… Thank you.”
My throat burns, and I look away from the intensity in his gaze.
Slowly, Isaac rises from his chair. I hate it.
I don’t want him to leave.
At least, part of me doesn’t.
The other part wants him to go far away so I can think without smelling him.
My computer beeps, the familiar sound of an email hitting my inbox.
“Excuse me,” I murmur, quickly opening it, hoping to find some communication from Harlan.
But that’s not what I’m looking at.
Not even a little.
“Cassie?” Isaac demands, and I blink in surprise at how harsh he sounds. “Fuck, shortcake, I’ve called your name seven times. What’s going on?”
“It’s, um, I—” I shake my head, tears welling up in my eyes.
No matter how hard I blink, these tears are determined to fall.
“Can I?” Isaac asks, and I have no idea what he’s asking, so I just nod.
I hang my head, sniffling as I try to calm the panic inside me, and then I’m lifted from my seat and into his arms.
I curl up in his lap, inhaling his scent as he moves the computer screen, my shoulders finally loosening for the first time all morning. Somehow, despite everything, he still feels familiar.
“You’ve got an email from HR,” he says. “Is that what’s got you so panicked?”
I nod dumbly against his chest.
“Oh, shit,” he murmurs.
Now he’s seen it.
Subject: Investigation into Fashion Department Leak
“They think it’s me,” I gasp, clutching his shirt desperately.
Isaac tightens his grip on me, tucking me closer against his chest. “No, they don’t. They’ll be interviewing everyone, Cass, I promise.”
I shudder, unable to muster up a reply.
“Hey,” he murmurs, rubbing between my shoulder blades. “Talk to me, shortcake. Let me help.”
I shake my head against his chest.
I don’t know how.
My pulse is everywhere. My scent is everywhere. The office suddenly feels too small.
“It’s HR,” I whisper. “They already think I’m a failure, and now this? Isa, it’s going to be the end of me here at Opus, I just know it.”
I rub at my chest, grateful his shirt is muffling most of my whimpers.
“No, shortcake, that’s not the case at all,” he says gently. “First off, they do not think you’re a failure. Secondly, you’ve done nothing wrong at all. You’re taking the blame for something you had nothing to do with. Trust me.”
I shiver in his lap, and he brushes a kiss over the top of my head so absent-mindedly it feels right.
“You’re not getting fired,” Isaac reassures me.
“You don’t know that.”
“I do.”
I pout up at him and shake my head. “You literally don’t.”
“I literally do,” he says, waggling his brows.
I glare at him, and he raises an eyebrow, not backing down.
“Cassidy.” The use of my full name gets my attention immediately. “I need you to listen to me. They aren’t investigating you.”
My fingers tighten against his shirt. “You don’t know that.”
“I do.”
“How?” I whisper.
“Because if they were investigating you, they wouldn’t send a meeting invitation,” he says bluntly. “They wouldn’t warn you—they’d be investigating behind your back.”
I blink in surprise. “What?”
His expression turns sympathetic. “Oh, sweetheart.”
He brushes some of my tears away, still holding me close.
“Can you read the full email?” I ask quietly.
Isaac squeezes my shoulder gently and leans forward to grab the mouse. I watch as he opens the email properly, and I scan the text, waiting for the ‘we know you did this, Cassidy’ moment.
It doesn’t come.
“See?” Isaac says. “They’re inviting you for a quick chat.”
I love that he’s calm.
I love that he always knows how to make the terrifying things feel smaller.
After everything… I still trust him.
My inbox pings again, and this time, it’s from Harlan.
Oh, fuck.
Subject: Find Me After Your Meeting
I flinch, my scent panicking before I can stop it, strawberry cream suddenly flooding the tiny office. Isaac’s hand rubs against my thigh.
“Want me to open it?” he asks, and I sigh, but nod.
Cassidy,
I’ll be in my office once you’re back from HR.
Don’t take the piss.
Harlan
“Well, he’s a dick,” Isaac mutters, and I laugh, but it’s half-hearted.
Lucky me. Not one hard conversation today. Not even two.
I now get to add Harlan into the mix as well.
Lucky me.