Chapter 32
CASSIDY
The heavy bag groans under the weight of my kick, a dull thud echoing through the small, humid gym. Sweat stings my eyes, but I don’t stop. I can’t. Every strike feels like I’m shedding another layer of the girl who was afraid of her own shadow.
Holt stands behind the bag, his massive arms steadying it.
I can feel his eyes searching mine. “You’re really focused today, Cass,” he grunts, bracing for another round of strikes.
“I don’t think I can remember you ever seeming this focused.
Is this because you’re ready to move on from here? Or did something happen?”
I take a jagged breath. My heart is doing that familiar dance against my ribs. This isn’t from the heavy workout. This is from my nerves jumping out of my skin. “I let my guard down.”
Holt freezes. The bag swings slightly in the sudden silence.
“I let someone in. And I fell pretty hard, Holt.”
“Someone from the club?”
“Yes. A member,” I answer, keeping my voice steady as I start a series of rapid-fire jabs.
“I know he’s off-limits. I shouldn’t have let it happen.
But he made me want more. More than spending every single day alone.
” I don’t mention the way his hands feel on my skin or the hours we spent tangled in his sheets at his mega-mansion on the bluff. That’s a secret I’m not ready to share.
Holt’s expression conveys an understanding I wasn’t expecting. And here I thought his bachelor lifestyle was a choice.
“He’s the CEO of a major cybersecurity firm.”
Holt whistles. “Wow. That’s high stakes, sis. You sure he’s not just another suit looking for a play thing?”
“I considered that at first,” I admit, pausing to wipe sweat from my forehead with the back of my glove.
“I was terrified he’d think I was only interested in him for insider access to his company.
Once he found out what I was studying. But it wasn’t like that.
He actually let me participate in several data forensics projects.
He didn’t just give me a seat at the table.
He brought me in. He seemed genuinely impressed with my work. ”
I look down at my taped knuckles. Regardless of what happens between us, I’m certain he’d let me include it on my resume. It’s the first real professional win I’ve had since the academy.
“Well, of course he was impressed with your work. You’re incredibly smart.” I shake my head. My big brother is always lifting me up. “Just be careful, Cass.” Holt’s voice drops a protective octave. “Men in that world? They have a lot of secrets. And secrets have a way of getting people hurt.”
“I know. I’m being careful,” I promise him, squaring my shoulders.
“Honestly? I’m feeling stronger than ever.
” My thoughts drift back to that argument with Max.
Where I made it abundantly clear what I deserve.
As much as I would’ve loved for him to profess his undying love for me, I’m a practical person.
I’ve survived too much of the real world not to be.
There was no other option than walking away.
At least without some reassurance he’s working on his “fucked-upness.”
Holt watches me for a long beat, then nods toward the calendar on the wall. “Well, I’m glad you’re feeling so strong. Do you feel ready to visit Dad’s graveside?”
I know what he’s asking. Dad’s birthday is in a few days.
“Yes.” I don’t hesitate. And it feels good.
And for the first time in three years, I mean it.
“I’m nervous about the emotional aspect.
Of talking to him after all of this time.
” Even if he isn’t physically here. Missing him doesn’t get easier.
“But I’m not worried about feeling like a sitting duck to some assailant. Not anymore.”
I throw one last, powerful hook that nearly knocks the bag out of Holt’s grip.
“Good,” he says, a small, proud smile breaking through his concern. “I’ll call you once I know the exact flight plan. You still feel okay with driving to that small airport near here I showed you on the navigation app?”
“Yes. And once we get back, I plan to drive to Hanover for my neurology appointment on my own.”
Holt’s eyebrows shoot up. His grin is wide and sincere. “You’re really up for that?”
“Yes, Holt. It’s time.” I laugh, feeling an odd but welcome spark of joy. “This chick is finally getting her groove back. Now I just need to dye my hair.”
Holt blinks, confused. “Holy hell. What has happened to you since the last time I was here? No pink? I thought that was your signature.”
“Maybe I’ll put it back one day.” I’ll miss the pink, to be honest. “But for now? I think I’ll blend in better with it blonde. I need to avoid being the girl everyone notices.”
“Smart. You’ve come a long way since you got here, sis.”
Yes, I have. Regardless of how my heart may be hurting, my pride is doing just fine.
I drop my tray onto the bar, my hands still vibrating from the adrenaline of the workout with Holt and the awareness I’ll be heading back to New York soon. The club is a different beast tonight. It feels louder, darker, and thick with the scent of expensive cologne and superiority.
I scan the room, looking for a flash of dark hair or a pair of intense, blue, calculating eyes, but Max is nowhere to be found. A week has passed since I walked away from him. The man who made me stir-fry feels like a distant fever dream.
My breath hitches seeing him walk through the doors.
I try to look away so he doesn’t catch me staring.
This Max is a different person. Replaced by a version that looks like he’s been hollowed out from the inside.
He wanders toward a shadowed corner instead of the VIP section he normally inhabits.
Does he have a new project causing him stress?
“Cass, can you take that tray of drinks to table six?” Fern asks, nudging my arm.
I ignore her, my gaze locked on Max. Why does he seem so lost? Did something happen?
I navigate the crowd, moving with a newfound grace. I’m not just a cocktail waitress anymore. I’m a woman with a mission. Setting a fresh scotch down next to him, I wait for him to acknowledge me. However, his attention stays glued to his laptop.
Ugh! Fine. If that’s the way you want to play it, fucker. Why do I still care about this asshole?
I refuse to beg for his attention. I return to the bar, and that tray of drinks Fern asked me to handle, and watch him wander off. I can practically feel the tension pouring off of him in waves. Is he second-guessing coming back here?
After delivering the drinks to table six, I notice Max has apparently thrown back that scotch before leaving the table.
Something is off. He’d never leave his laptop unattended under normal circumstances.
I decide to grab his empty glass, if only to have an excuse to close his laptop until he returns.
Reaching down to retrieve it, my eyes land on the familiar data stream. He’s returned to those same phone forensics I was working on at his hotel and his home. Hell, he’s probably pissed off he’s left to deal with this now.
Yet before I can close the laptop, a familiar bright yellow flashes on the screen. That imaginary highlighter that has helped point the way in projects past. My eyes sharpen. It’s the same number from before.
It’s not a breakthrough, but it’s definitely worth investigating further. “I found it,” I whisper, the words barely audible over the bass. There’s no way to explain it. This feels like the needle in the haystack we’d been looking for.
He’s clearly upset. I can’t risk him thinking I’m using this as a way to get back in his good graces. Instead, I tear a page from my notebook, scrawl the outlier phone number down, and slide it onto the table next to his bag.
Look into this one. It doesn’t belong here.