39. Harlan #2
She hasn’t noticed my arrival.
I head straight for her, but rather than rounding her desk and pulling her into my arms, I carefully pull out one of her chairs and sit, rapping on the edge of her table.
Her head jerks up. “Oh! Van.”
A smile appears so quickly she probably thinks it fools me.
“Hi, little daisy.”
Her eyes are bloodshot. The skin beneath them is darker than it should be.
She looks exhausted. The campaign drama started yesterday. Has she even had some sleep since then?
Fuck, Harlan better be looking after her.
“Hi,” she answers, her smile dimming a little.
“You all right?”
“Mmhm.” She tries to give me a convincing nod, her eyes dropping back to her computer screen as she lies.
It isn’t even a convincing effort.
“Try that again,” I offer, and she grimaces.
“Everything’s just a bit…” She gestures vaguely around the office before sighing, the sound of complete defeat. “Busy.”
Busy.
That’s what we’re calling this situation right now?
She’s trying so bloody hard to disappear into her work, to hide her panic from me, as if our bond hasn’t been screaming for help for the last half an hour.
My gaze catches on her hands, and my brows draw together.
Her nails have no polish on them whatsoever. No shape to them either.
What the fuck has she done to her hands?
They’ve been bitten right down to the stub, blood in more than one cuticle from the damage she’s caused herself.
A cold knot settles in my stomach.
“Cass,” I say more quietly. “Talk to me.”
Her smile finally slips, and she shudders.
“Things are a little… horrible here,” she whispers.
The words are so small I almost miss them.
“Harlan, he, um, he shouted at me a little. Well, not just at me. Not exactly.”
He fucking did what?
“I just…” She swallows. “I happened to be there, and it was partly my fault.”
I grit my teeth, wanting to find the smug asshole and beat him senseless.
Pack or not, nobody gets to treat my mate this way.
“He apologised afterwards,” she rushes to add, like she’s trying to protect him. “He’s under a lot of pressure, and I know he never meant to upset me.”
Of course, she says that.
Of course, she’s defending him before I’ve even opened my mouth.
“And then…” She hesitates, eyes dropping to her desk. “One of the senior stylists got frustrated because we’d had to start another section from scratch, and, well, I’m being overly sensitive.”
She shrugs one shoulder.
“I think everyone’s just tired, and I’m not handling things well.”
Something hot and protective surges through my chest.
My hands actually clench.
Who else fucking shouted at her? Which stylist thought they had the damn right?
What exactly was said?
Old instinct kicks in so fast I don’t even think. I straighten, my body already turning towards the door.
Already planning whose career I’m about to end.
Then Cassidy sniffles, and I freeze, turning to look at her again. She’s hung her head, embarrassment pulsing through our bond.
I can’t even scent her, since she’s coated in neutraliser right now, something I should’ve already noticed but haven’t.
She isn’t asking for revenge. She isn’t asking me to fix this.
She would never.
Instead, my perfect little daisy is begging for help whilst pretending she’s fine.
She needs me.
Not my temper. Not my solutions.
Just me, her alpha.
For the first time in a while, I wonder if charging into battle would actually make this situation worse.
I force myself to stay where I am. Cassie needs me, and every instinct I have says staying beside her matters more than revenge right now.
There’s plenty of time later to find Harlan and that other stylist.
To do something to expel this rage.
Instead, I kick my shoes off under my chair and get up from my seat.
Cassidy doesn’t look up. She’s still staring at her computer again like the mood board she’s examining has all the answers she needs.
I know that look, though. She’s trying not to cry.
Again.
“Come here, daisy,” I murmur. She hesitates, but only for a second.
Then she pushes her chair back and stands, shuffling around the desk, and the couple of steps between us before almost collapsing into my lap.
Fuck.
My heart cracks clean in two. I wrap my arms around her automatically, pulling her against my chest as she lets out a tiny, shaky breath.
Not a sob.
Not yet.
I lift her higher, gently easing her shoes off before carrying her to her nest, already feeling my own scent settling into the blankets as I hold her.
Based on her faded scent, she’s not been in here at all today.
Not yesterday either.
My poor, fucking girl.
She shudders against me, relaxing into my hold, like she’s been holding herself together with nothing but stubbornness until someone finally gave her permission to stop.
“There you are,” I whisper into her hair, kissing softly. “My brave girl.”
She makes the smallest little noise against my chest. “I’m sorry.”
The apology comes so automatically that I almost laugh.
Not because it’s funny, but because it’s so painfully Cassidy.
“What are you apologising for?” I ask carefully.
I scoot back in her nest, keeping her close to me, as I lay down, bringing her with me. She doesn’t fight me, doesn’t try to move from my chest.
She sniffs, a tinge of embarrassment in our bond. “I don’t know. I just…” She shrugs. “I feel silly and like I’m wasting your time.”
I close my eyes for a second, pressing another kiss to her hair, wishing it was enough to soothe her pain.
“No.” My voice comes out firmer than I’d intended. “You could never waste my time. Not with your feelings. Not with your presence.”
I tuck her hair behind her ear as she sniffles again.
“And, Cass? You could never be accused of wasting my time when I was the one to seek you out,” I add.
She goes quiet, nodding against my chest. I stroke slow circles across the middle of her back, feeling the tension knotted beneath her blouse.
“You’re exhausted.”
A tiny nod this time, but I’m so proud of her for not denying it.
“You’ve been thrown into one of the worst weeks this company’s had in years,” I continue, and she shivers.
“Your boss shouted at you for something I know you didn’t deserve to be yelled at for.”
“He apologised,” she protests, but it’s weak, as if even she doesn’t believe it.
“I know. Someone else shouted at you, too.”
She doesn’t answer this time. Her silence is answer enough.
“And yet, you’re still doing your absolute best,” I tell her. “This is awful, and you’re here, contributing, not stopping. You’re doing phenomenal, Cassidy. Believe me, even if you can’t believe yourself.”
She presses her forehead harder against my shoulder, rubbing her nose into my neck, scenting me the best she can in this position.
“I don’t think I’m helping very much.”
“There it is.”
She gasps. “What?”
“The real problem you’re struggling with,” I say softly. “You’re feeling incapable. Like you’re not offering enough.”
Like she’s not being useful enough.
She finally tips her head back enough to look at me, those big green eyes swimming with tears again.
“I’m trying so hard,” she tells me quietly. “But I keep thinking maybe I’m not trying hard enough.”
If something feels difficult, Cassidy always assumes she’s the reason why.
I cup her cheek gently. “Listen to me, little daisy.”
She holds my gaze.
“This?” I gesture vaguely towards the office outside. “It isn’t normal.”
A tiny frown appears on her face, a furrow in her brows that I want to kiss away.
“Nothing is normal this week. Harlan isn’t normal, the team isn’t, hell, the entire company isn’t. This kind of shit hasn’t happened in a very long time.” I smooth out her hair. “So, you don’t get to judge your place here based on the worst week everyone’s had.”
She presses a gentle kiss to my jaw. “Can I… can I tell you something?”
“Always.”
“Even if it’s about one of the others?” she whispers.
“Even then.”
“I… I’m really struggling to separate Harlan, my mate from Harlan, my boss. He’s… it’s like two different personalities right now,” she tells me, tracing a pattern on my chest. “And it… it’s hard.”
“Oh, daisy,” I murmur, nuzzling into her hair. “I can imagine. The two of you were only beginning to find your dynamic here, and it wasn’t something fully established before this kicked off.”
“I know.”
“It’s not fair, but I do think Harlan needs some grace right now,” I offer, even though it annoys me to be nice to the prick after he made her cry.
“He’s navigating a very difficult situation.
With that said—the grace applies here at work.
At home, if there’s any of the Work Harlan attitude thrown around, we’ll intervene. ”
Her brows pinch together. “You’d… help me?”
The question punches every bit of air from my lungs. “As many times as it takes to get the message to sink in for him.”
She studies me for a long moment before something inside her finally loosens.
“I love you so much,” she whispers. “I’m so grateful.”
“For what, little daisy?” I ask softly.
Her fingers curl gently into my shirt. “I think I needed someone here to give me the permission to fall apart for a little bit.”
Fuck.
Even now, I struggle with the balance between loving Cassidy my way and loving her the way she needs.
Part of me still thinks loving Cassidy means fixing every problem she has before it reaches her.
Turns out… sometimes she doesn’t need me to fix it. She just needs me beside her.
ISAAC
By the time I reach the Fashion floor, most of the lights have been switched off.
Not all of them, since there are a few people milling around. But after the chaotic energy of the last couple of days, this change of pace makes the floor feel abandoned.
I glance towards Harlan’s office as I pass. It’s dark, thank fuck.
If he were still here, I’d probably end up having a conversation neither of us particularly want to suffer through.
Instead, I continue towards Cassidy’s office, the soft glow spilling beneath the half-open door giving away her location before I even reach it.
Of course, she’s still working down here. She’d never be the first one to leave during a crisis.
Not when others in the department are still working.