Chapter 23
***Cass***
“Fuck, Cassidy. I’m sorry. About my dick. I…shit.” He sat up and rubbed his face. “About my dick and about the other night.”
I was torn between looking at his very obvious erection and his face. Until I saw the look of shame on his face.
“I let things go too far. I’ve just been so fucking angry.
The injury… I don’t know. I don’t want to admit just how bad everything’s gotten.
But this, your face, it’s the last fucking straw.
” He leaned forward and gently touched my chin.
“I did that. I hurt you. I’m fucking sick about it.
I’m not drinking anymore. Not after this.
I promise. I’m sorry it took this for me to get my shit together. ”
I pulled myself up on the table next to him and frowned. “I don’t want you to make promises that you can’t keep. You aren’t the first man to promise me he was done drinking, Weston.”
He winced and looked away. “I’m sorry.”
“Is it all about the injury?”
“Yeah. Maybe? I don’t know.” He stepped down and walked to the other side of the room.
Turning back to face me, his eyes looked haunted.
“Everything just feels fucking unfair. And I’m fucking angry about it.
I’m angry at my fucking body for not being better yet.
And the fucking doctors and their pain meds.
They’d still be shoving that shit down my throat if I hadn’t said I was better.
But I’m no better. I just chose alcohol instead of their pills. ”
“Why didn’t you have the surgery?”
“What if they did their surgery and my back was still fucked? There was no guarantee.” He grabbed his pants and shoved his legs into them before straightening and freezing. “What the fuck?”
I raised my eyebrows. “What?”
“Where’d the shooting pain go?” He eased side to side and stepped closer. “What’d you do?”
I grinned, excited to see I’d helped even in the shadows of all the dark shit we were both feeling.
“I did what any other massage therapist would’ve done had they been given the chance to work on you.
It’s not a cure, Weston. You still need a permanent fix.
I just worked on the muscle aggravating your sciatic nerve. ”
He came even closer. “You hate me. You didn’t have to help.”
“I don’t hate you. You hate me. But even if I did hate you, I’d still help. I love making people feel better.” I leaned back on the table as he wedged his hips between my thighs. “Weston?”
“I don’t hate you. I might hate me, though.” His touch was gentle as he stroked my cheek. “I’ll never drink again. It’s time I get my shit together so you don’t have to transfer to ASU or somewhere equally not Texas.”
I closed my eyes and did my best to not lean into his touch.
I’d just been furious at him. I couldn’t just get over it that quickly.
My face sure wasn’t going to just get over it.
I could feel myself melting, though. Because I got being angry.
I got feeling like things were unfair and lashing out. I got being the bad guy.
“I want to stay mad at you.” I opened my eyes and searched his face. “But I think I’ve spent my entire life feeling angry and bitter about the way things worked out. And I let it make me mean at times. So I guess I don’t have a lot of room to withhold forgiveness.”
“Maybe you’ll share that story with me sometime.” He dropped his hands to my thighs and squeezed. “So, you do forgive me?”
I groaned and shrugged. “Why not? After the things I said to you yesterday, I guess we’re even. My face for your feelings.”
He leaned even closer. “Not even. I have some things to make up to you. And some things to find out more about. I have to say, Cassidy, if I had to be stuck in this mess with anyone, I’m not sorry it’s you. After all, not many people would’ve threatened to have a rabid raccoon eat my dick.”
I pressed my hands to his chest and pushed him back an inch. “Don’t look too closely at me right now. You’ll wish for that rabid raccoon to avoid this mess.”
Weston slid his hands into my hair and held me. “You’re still beautiful.”
I rolled my eyes but he didn’t see because he was already leaning in and brushing his lips over mine.
It was gentle and he was careful not to touch any part of my face but my lips.
I felt a mix of things but the strongest were relief and hope.
It was similar to that first night and it scared me but not enough to pull away.
His fingers tightened on my scalp and then he pulled back. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
I took a deep breath. “Right now? Or…in general?”
He stepped back and pulled his shirt on. “I don’t know.”
I stayed where I was even after he left.