Isaac #2
I’m extremely low contact with them for this exact reason, and yet, as soon as I see their name on my phone, I rush to answer like a pliant little boy.
Like a fucking fool.
I reread the final paragraph. Delete the opening sentence, rewrite it, and delete it again. This is meant to be the conclusion, and it’s not flowing right.
It just feels flat.
Wrong, even.
I stare at the sentence until the words stop looking like words altogether.
“Isa?”
“Hm?” I can’t bring myself to tear my gaze from the fuzzy zebra in my vision.
“You’ve been looking at that paragraph for ages,” she says softly.
“I know.” I sigh. “It’s being a pain.”
“You’ve deleted that sentence and rewritten it four times,” she says. “It’s been the exact same each time.”
My fingers freeze over the keyboard. “Wait, what?”
A laugh almost escapes her. “Are you okay?”
I glance back at the document and use the keyboard shortcuts to undo. She’s right.
Another undo, and another, and the sentence is the exact same, exactly as it was when I started here.
Fuck’s sake.
“I…” I stop, rubbing a hand across the back of my neck. “Something looked off.”
Cassidy shifts a little closer, close enough that our shoulders brush, her smooth hair sliding over my arm as she leans in to read. “Can I have a read?”
I nod. She leans over, scrolling up the page, and reads it in silence.
The only sound is the quiet tapping of rain beginning against the bedroom window.
Eventually, she looks back at me and gives a little shrug. “I think it reads really well.”
“It does?”
“Yes. It’s not for you, right? This is Evander’s?” I nod. “Thought so. This is perfect.”
“You don’t think it needs changing?”
She shakes her head.
“I think...” She studies me instead of the screen now, her brow knitting ever so slightly. “I think you’ve been trying to fix a sentence that wasn’t actually the problem.”
The words settle low in my chest. She isn’t talking about the report anymore.
Fuck.
I thought I was doing a good job of hiding my unease. I’m clearly not.
I let out a quiet breath, closing my laptop before I can find another sentence to obsess over.
Cassidy follows suit almost immediately. She doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t push me.
Instead, she lies down, pulling a blanket up and over her, and leaves enough space for me to lie next to her. She faces me properly, giving me her full attention.
Fuck. I love her.
“I don’t have to tell you,” I say eventually. “We can just… ignore it.”
“I know.”
“You’ll stop asking?” I ask.
A tiny smile tugs at her lips. “I barely even asked this time.”
Despite everything, I huff out a laugh. “You’re too good at this.”
She’s unfairly adorable.
Silence settles between us again, comfortable enough that she doesn’t rush to fill it.
I rub absentmindedly at the back of my neck and let out another sigh. I lie down next to her and smile when she lifts her blanket over us both.
“My mum called me earlier.”
Cassidy’s expression softens, but thankfully, she doesn’t immediately look horrified.
“Oh?”
“My brother’s in hospital.”
The words sound strangely flat spoken aloud, like I don’t care about him. Like I’m a monster.
“I’m so sorry.” She takes my hand in hers, lacing our fingers together.
She cares. She’s sorry.
And yet… I can barely muster a thought for him. For any of them.
I don’t care, not really.
She holds my hand against her chest, her heart thudding steadily against the back of my hand, like she’s lending me a little of her calm.
I doubt she even realises what she’s doing.
“He’ll be fine,” I tell her. “It’s not… this isn’t the first time.”
“I see,” she says carefully.
Not really.
How could she?
I shrug. “I wasn’t really listening by the end. But I’m sure he’ll be out soon enough.”
Her eyebrows draw together. “You weren’t listening?”
I shake my head. “My mum, she… she didn’t call me out of care for my brother or me.”
Cassie’s breathing hitches, but she doesn’t ask, doesn’t push. Her scent sharpens with protective instinct as she clutches harder at my hand.
A bitter laugh escapes before I can stop it. “My family aren’t like yours, or Harlan and Silas’s. Hell, they’re not even like Ev’s, and his dads are… well, you’ll see when we meet them.”
I glance at her out of the corner of my eye, wondering what she thinks. If she’s ashamed of me.
If she’s worried she’s dating a psychopathic monster who doesn’t care for my family.
“My mum is a narcissist. Every situation revolves around her and the damage it causes for her.”
Cassie purses her lips.
“My dad is a peacekeeper. He avoids any and all confrontation and feeds my mum’s bullshit.”
“Oh, Isa,” she whispers.
“Mum’s convinced I abandoned the family,” I say angrily. “That when I moved out, when I moved away, that I was deserting them. Leaving my brother to die, leaving her to struggle alone.”
She sniffles, but I don’t look at her. I can’t.
“I went low contact years ago. Evander pushed for it, after… a vicious visit with my mum. My brother is an addict, and he refuses to get help. He’s in and out of the hospital, and it does no good for him.”
Cassie nods.
“My mum’s call today was to tell me how it’s my fault and how selfish I was for leaving. How she’s anxious and tired, and how much she wishes I’d actually give her some support for once.”
“Oh, yes, because the Isa I know has never supported anyone a day in their life,” she mutters, shaking her head.
A wry smile tugs at my lip. She makes it easier to breathe.
I pick at a loose thread on one of the blankets, suddenly finding it fascinating.
“My brother’s always needed more than I have.”
She doesn’t interrupt, but I can sense the argument beneath her lips.
“He struggled growing up. Mental health, addiction...” I swallow. “Everything seemed to happen to him.”
“And you?”
“I coped.”
The words leave my mouth automatically because that’s what I’ve always said. It’s what I’ve always done.
“Who looked after you when he was taking all the attention?” Cassie asks softly.
Nobody.
“I never needed it,” I lie.
Mum was always with him, making every ordeal bigger than it needed to be. Dad spent his life trying to keep Mum calm.
Every conversation became about my brother. Every birthday, every Christmas, every crisis.
I understand it. I never begrudged him. Even now, I know it’s not his fault.
But where his needs were put first, mine were never even considered.
There was always a reason there wasn’t room for anyone else’s feelings.
Cassidy scoots closer, still holding my hand, and rests her head on my shoulder.
“That sounds really hard,” she whispers. “I’m sorry, Isa.”
“I still love them,” I confess, staring down at her hair. “I don’t think I’ll ever stop.”
“I know.”
“And I still worry.”
“I know.”
“But every time I let them back in...” I shake my head. “I spend days wondering why I wasn’t enough to make them love me the way they love him.”
She lifts her head, looking up at me, now. “You’re allowed to grieve them, Isa. And you’re allowed to choose yourself.”
Something inside me loosens.
Then she smiles, brushes a kiss beneath my jaw, and lingers there for a heartbeat, breathing me in before snuggling back in.
I breathe in her protective scent, using it to soothe me in the ways nothing else can.
“In our pack,” she says quietly, “nobody’s needs will ever be an afterthought.”
Fuck, she’s everything.
I stroke my thumb lazily across the back of her hand. “Thank you.”
Cassidy hums. “You don’t have to thank me for being here, Isa.”
“I know.” I press a kiss to her hair. “But I love you, and I want you to know I appreciate you.”
She lets out a soft purr, the sound vibrating against my chest, and I feel her relax another fraction against me.
I’d happily spend the rest of the evening exactly like this.
The report can wait. The emails can wait. The entire bloody world can wait.
She should not.
Not tonight.
“I think that we deserve five minutes,” I murmur.
She tips her head back, a gleam in her eyes. “Doing what?”
“Absolutely nothing.”
She studies me for a second before her face brightens. “Ooh. I like it.”
Apparently, doing absolutely nothing is wildly exciting to my mate.
She slips out from beneath the blanket before I can ask what she’s doing, cool air immediately replacing the warmth she’d left behind.
I watch, thoroughly distracted, as she pulls her oversized jumper over her head, revealing the little camisole she’s wearing underneath.
She catches me looking and raises a brow. She might seem unaffected, but her cheeks are tinged red.
“What?”
“I was wondering if I’d missed the heating being turned up,” I tease.
It’s got to have been—how else would I be burning for her?
She rolls her eyes. “I want your skin.”
Well. I can’t exactly complain.
“Oh.”
She ducks her head, her scent lightening with embarrassment. “I mean—”
“No, don’t backtrack,” I say softly. “You asked for what you wanted. That’s all I’ve ever wanted you to do.”
She looks at me in awe, then frowns. “Well, aren’t you taking yours off, then?”
“My shirt?” I ask.
She nods. “Mhm.”
I arch an eyebrow. “Strawberry shortcake…”
“What?”
“Are you just trying to increase your collection of stolen clothes?”
Her lips twitch, but she shakes her head. “Of course not.”
“You’re a terrible liar,” I say with a laugh. I undo the top few buttons before pulling it over my head.
Her eyes drop down to my bare chest, and I can’t lie, I revel in the attention. My cock pushes against my trousers, desperately wanting an acknowledgement.
Needy fucker.
But I just smile at her and let her look.
“It is a very nice shirt,” she offers, and we both know she’s not talking about my shirt right now.
I raise a brow. “It is.”
“It would also look very nice in one of my nests.”
“One of your nests?” I ask with a laugh.
She beams. “I’ve got to plan ahead, you know.”
“Come cuddle, shortcake, before winter freezes me to death,” I say, and she beams at me before rising to her knees.
I’m confused when she pulls her shorts off, quickly followed by her knee high socks. The cami goes next, and she rushes over to me, yanking the blanket over the top of us.