Chapter 49
Chapter Forty-Nine
Cassius
I do my best to hide the panic in my chest from my sisters. I don’t want them to deal with my stress. Because if they think Harmon is avoiding me, it means a lot of things for us. It’s not just my relationship—it’s everything, including my job. Maybe my sister’s job too.
Cammy and I were both supposed to start our positions at Stone Timeworks yesterday, but because of everything that happened, Harmon told us to take a few days to stay with Chrissy since she wouldn’t be going to school.
But I still haven’t heard a peep from him, and every time I call, it goes directly to voicemail. I consider asking Cammy for her phone so I can call him, but I don’t want to be weird about this, and like I said, I don’t want her to panic.
And honestly, I don’t want to talk about what this could mean.
My chest aches, and I feel like I’m going to throw up. I’m worried about him and if something is wrong, but I’m also hurt. Why isn’t he talking to me? What did I do to make him not want to talk to me?
I can only assume he’s mad at me for something. There’s no way he’s still sleeping, late in the afternoon. He has to be at work.
Maybe seeing the shit my family comes with is too much. Maybe Chrissy is too much. And in that case, fuck him.
It still hurts though. It really does. Because I gave into him, trusted him, accepted that we could be together and things could work out. I let him into this house, brought him into my sisters’ lives.
And now look at me…
Cammy’s full attention is on Chrissy, which I am thankful for because I’m only half here.
“Is that okay, Cass?”
“Huh? Yeah, cool.”
I see the weird looks they’re giving me, but they don’t say anything. They shut the TV off and go into their rooms.
I stare at the black screen, trying to figure out what the hell they said. We were sitting here together watching Supernatural, and then they both leave to go in their rooms?
I get up and knock on Cammy’s door.
She opens it, her brow raised.
“What’s going on?” I ask.
“You agreed, Cass.”
“Cammy…”
“Look, I know you’re stressed out about whatever is going on, but you can’t walk around like a zombie for the rest of your life. If you’re mad that he isn’t answering you, do something about it.”
“What am I supposed to do?” I hiss. “I’m calling him. Texting him.”
“Hmm…” She taps her chin. “You have a car, Cass. Maybe go to him.”
“No, I can’t—”
“And why not? You know where he lives.”
“He isn’t home right now. He’s at the office and there’s no way—”
“Well, it’s a good thing you told Chrissy we could go out for lunch and to the movies. By the time we’re done with that, he’ll be home.”
Oh… is that what I agreed to?
“Okay, you’re right. I’m going to change.”
Cammy smiles cockily and closes the door. By the time I get out of my room, they’re waiting for me.
We go to lunch and the movies. I remember bits and pieces of it, but barely anything. When we get home, the girls get out of the car. Chrissy hurries up the steps and lets herself in. Cammy ducks her head back in the door, giving me a stern look.
“Are you going?” she asks.
“Yes.”
“Good. Call me if you need anything.”
“Call me if you need anything,” I retort.
“No offense, Cass, but you couldn’t handle putting a band-aid on someone right now. I’ll see you soon.”
She closes the door, and I watch her go up the steps and disappear inside. I watch the hallway windows and see her pass the second floor and then get to the third. When the living room light flicks on, I leave.
I reach Harmon’s house, but I drive past it the first time. The second time, too. And maybe the third…
My anxiety is through the roof. I’m going to have a panic attack.
I can’t breathe. But I have to do this. I have to.
Because Cammy is right. I can’t keep going on like this.
Granted, it’s only been two days, but my emotions are only getting worse, not better.
It’s best I go in there and face him. Get answers. This way I can move on.
He’ll be alerted the moment I go through the gate, so I have to be quick. I have to get my head straight, so I don’t walk in there like a bumbling, panicky mess.
Finally, I turn onto his driveway, and the gates open for me when I get close enough. I park in the same spot I always do, right beside his car.
So, he is home. That’s good.
Maybe.
I take a deep breath as I shove the door open and hurry to the front door.
I have to do this now or I may not do it at all, but I need to know what’s going on.
I need answers. I can’t be kept waiting.
Every scenario has gone through my head, and I need answers so I can prepare and figure out how to move forward.
My fingers tremble so badly as I enter the code that I hit the five instead of the four and have to wait for it to reset so I can try again.
It finally beeps, and the mechanical whir of the lock disengaging tells me I’m out of time. It’s now or never.
I twist the knob and push into the house. Harmon is more than halfway down the stairs already, buttoning his suit jacket as if he is on his way out. He doesn’t look my way, just stares forward as he makes his way to the bottom.
I already know something is wrong. I can feel it in the air.
The door is still open behind me and my heart is beating so hard it’s going to come up my throat—probably run out the door because that’s what I want to do right now.
“What’s wrong?” I blurt out, taking a step forward.
There’s a good ten feet between us, and it doesn’t seem he has any intention of coming closer.
No hug. No kiss. No… reaction at all. He’s cold. Distant.
He doesn’t even answer my question.
I force a swallow past the lump in my throat, trying to push away the ringing in my ears.
“Cassius, we need to talk,” he finally says, his gaze not on me though. He walks to the door, closing it, then turning to face me, but still, he won’t look at me. At least not in the eyes.
“Yeah, no shit,” I bark out. “What the hell is going on?”
He clears his throat, staring straight ahead.
“This was a mistake.”
I almost fall to the floor with those words, but I swear it’s my anger that’s keeping me up.
“What?”
He doesn’t answer, but I know what he’s saying.
I was a mistake. Choosing me was a mistake. Wanting more with me was a mistake.
“You can’t really mean that.”
I don’t know why I bother. Of course he means it.
He always says what he means. But I’m so desperate for this nightmare to go away that I’ll say whatever I have to in hopes that I’m wrong and he’s going to prove it.
I was prepared for this. I knew coming here wouldn’t end in happiness.
But I feel like I’ve taken a knife to the chest, and he’s watching me bleed out on the floor.
“You deserve something uncomplicated,” is what he goes with, tugging on the bottom of his jacket.
It feels like my body was injected with lead and I’m a thousand pounds. I can’t move. I can barely breathe.
“Wh-what did I do wrong?” I ask, my voice small like a child’s.
It’s pathetic.
I am pathetic. I know that. I’ve always known that, but for a short time, he made me think I wasn’t. He made me think that I was worthy of good things. Of course, this is the exact reason he can’t be with me.
“Did I do something wrong?” I ask.
“No,” he says quickly. Brushing me off and taking a few steps toward the stairs but stopping before he goes up them. He almost sounds irritated at my question.
But of course he does.
Look at him and look at me. Why wouldn’t he be annoyed with me?
“Then how can I fix this?” I beg, stepping toward him. He doesn’t move. Doesn’t flinch. Just stands there staring at the ground. “Tell me how I can fix this, please. I’ll do anything. Anything at all, I—please.”
Tears blur my eyes. Harmon holds his chin up, facing me once again.
“There’s nothing you can do.”
“But what about—”
“You and your sister can keep your jobs,” he says coldly. Distant. “I know you’re concerned with money. I’ll be working from home for the foreseeable future.”
Now that… that hurts more than anything else. Because it’s pity. It solidifies how fucking pathetic I am.
Standing here and begging him is only going to hurt me more, but I can’t walk away. I can’t give up. Not so easily. I’ve never had shame, and that won’t start today. So what’s a little more begging?
“If something happened, I can fix it,” I say, sniffling. “Whatever it is, I’ll fix it. I promise I can. You just have to give me a chance.”
He swallows hard, and for a split second, I think he’s going to agree—that he’s going to give me a chance. But then that blank stare is back, and whatever he’s about to say is going to hurt more than anything else has.
“I’m not giving chances anymore,” he says harshly. “This was always going to end. You should have known that.”
He moves past me and to the front door, pulling it open, but he stops before he goes outside.
“Please don’t make this harder than it has to be,” he says, his voice raspy. Then he keeps going.
I hear his car start up and drive off but it all feels like a dream. Like the worst dream of my entire life.