Cassidy #2
The teasing melts away almost instantly. “There’s no need to panic, little daisy. We’re just going to get you cleaned up, all right?”
I glance down at the tangled sheets before immediately looking away again.
“Hey.” He catches my chin before I can disappear into myself. “There is absolutely nothing to be embarrassed about.”
“I’ve made a mess.”
He smirks. “Ah, ah, ah, I think you’ll find that I have made the mess.”
A smile tugs at my lips despite myself.
I watch as Evander unfolds the warm washcloth between his hands before looking back up at me, giving me every opportunity to stop him if I want to.
“May I?”
The question catches me off guard, and I tear up at the complete care in his voice.
Fuck, I don’t deserve someone this good.
I nod, even though I’m sure my cheeks are brighter than a tomato. “Um, yes, please.”
His answering smile is soft as he carefully wipes the tear tracks from my cheeks first, his touch featherlight. The cloth is pleasantly warm against my skin, faintly smelling of fresh soap, and I find myself leaning into it before I even realise what I’m doing.
“There we are,” he says quietly. “Much better.”
“I bet I still look awful.”
He flicks my head again, and I laugh.
“You look like my mate,” he says firmly. “As far as I’m concerned, that’s pretty perfect.”
I duck my head, unable to hide the smile pulling at my lips.
He chuckles under his breath before carefully parting my legs. I tense, desperately trying to hold in the urge to yank them closed.
Especially when he uses the washcloth to clean down there. Fuck, it’s probably disgusting.
I’m leaking so much fluid, it’s dirty.
Oh, no.
Once he’s done, he places the washcloth on the side and stands, offering me both hands.
“Come on, little daisy.”
I place my hands in his, and he eases me to my feet without rushing me. My legs protest immediately, wobbling beneath me, and I let out an undignified squeak as I sway.
Evander’s arm is around my waist before I can lose my balance. “I’ve got you.”
“I know.”
He kisses my temple before disentangling from me. I watch in confusion as he grabs the top layer of blankets and the washcloth.
He tosses them in the hamper basket and grabs me a T-shirt and a pair of shorts from my suitcase.
His affection through the bond is such a relief that I can’t even feel bad about the care he’s giving me.
He guides me carefully into the en suite, the cool tiles soothing beneath my bare feet, never letting go completely as I rinse my face and hands with the warm water he’d already prepared.
He unfolds my T-shirt, and I reach for it, but he steps back, holding it above my head.
“I can do this. You’ve already helped enough,” I protest weakly.
“You can help by letting me look after you for five minutes,” he says firmly.
It’s gentle, but I can’t ignore the demand. I nod and let him redress me.
I draw the line at having him keep me company for my toilet break, though.
By the time I’m finished and back in the bedroom, the crumpled sheets have been smoothed flat, our discarded clothes are gone, and he’s waiting for me with a grin.
I note that his boxers are in my makeshift nest pile, though.
That shouldn’t make me as happy as it does.
“There,” he says, looking around the room with obvious satisfaction. “Presentable enough that Harlan won’t accuse us of living like feral gremlins.”
I laugh, even though I know for a fact that gremlins definitely live tidier than I do.
None of my rooms are dirty, they’re absolutely messy.
With Van smiling at me like I’ve hung the moon, the world feels a little steadier than it did ten minutes ago.
Even as I hear Harlan coming up the stairs.
The floorboards creak as he walks, growing louder until I know he’s right outside the bedroom. My stomach knots so tightly I have to stop myself from hiding under the blankets like a coward.
The bond with Evander hums beneath my skin, impossible to ignore.
I love it. I feel connected to him. Stronger because of him.
And yet… everyone will know. They’ll hate me. They’ll be upset with me.
Oh, fuck.
What if they expected to be here when we took that step?
What if we should’ve talked about it first?
What if choosing Evander first somehow means I’ve rejected everyone else?
The thoughts come too quickly to make sense of, and a headache starts to form right behind my eyes.
The bedroom door opens, and Harlan steps inside, one shoulder still turned towards the hallway, his hand resting on the handle.
He’s a lot less dressed up out of work but still effortlessly gorgeous.
He’s wearing a lightweight stone overshirt, left open over a fitted white T-shirt that clings just enough to the lean, sculpted lines beneath.
Dark tailored trousers sit low on his narrow hips, the clean cut only making his broad shoulders look wider.
Typical Harlan.
Like he’d thrown it on without thinking, even though he looks ready for the front page of a magazine.
Warm brioche and honeyed citrus drift into the room ahead of him, weaving through the lingering scent of coffee and dark chocolate until all three settle together.
Where I’d expected even a hint of upset, his scent is nothing but warm.
His dark blonde hair is slightly too long on top, like he’s run his fingers through it one too many times, and I know he’s overdue a haircut. His face settles naturally into the stern expression I’m so used to seeing at work, and I wish I’d chosen to hide earlier.
His hazel eyes land on me first.
Then his lips spread into a broad grin.
Oh.
Wow.
If this were from Evander, I could trust the sincerity. I need to learn to do the same with the others, even without the bond.
“Hey, little luxury.”
My throat tightens. I can’t swallow, my mouth too dry. My scent perfumes the air, tinged with fear and anxiety.
Say something, Cassie. Don’t just sit here staring at him.
“Hi.”
Oh, fuck me.
That pathetic hi is worse than saying nothing at all.
Harlan closes the door behind himself without another word before crossing the room. He comes to a stop once he reaches the foot of the bed.
His eyes flick briefly towards Evander before gesturing to the open space at the foot of the mattress.
“May I join you?”
Relief flutters through my chest. I don’t know whether it’s because he asked or because he’s being normal.
“Nah,” Van says with a grin.
I gasp, my stomach dropping so violently I think I might actually be sick.
Oh, no.
“I, um, I—”
“We’re just teasing, little daisy,” Evander says softly, concern pouring through his side of the bond. “I shouldn’t have, considering I can feel how anxious you are.”
Heat rushes into my cheeks. Of course, he can. There’s nowhere to hide from him anymore.
No way to hide my overreactions.
Harlan nods. “I shouldn’t have let him tease.”
He sounds genuinely apologetic, which just makes me feel worse.
“Oh,” I whisper, biting my lip. “Um. Yes. Sit. It’s your house.”
Harlan nods, lowering himself carefully onto the end of the mattress, deliberately leaving enough space that he doesn’t crowd us, before giving me a small smile. “You two smell different.”
I freeze. Everything inside me stops. He knows.
He knows.
“You smell happy,” he continues.
Wait. What?
I blink rapidly. He thinks we’re happy? That I am happy?
Don’t get me wrong—I was. Fifteen minutes ago, before he came home, and it was just Evander and I in our little bubble.
Now, though, I can’t hide from the consequences of my selfish actions.
“What?” I ask.
Harlan’s smile only widens. “The two of you—you’re happy. It’s nice to see.”
The words land so gently that my brain refuses to believe them.
He’s not disappointed or jealous. Not even angry or unhappy.
He’s just… happy for us.
For me.
A painful lump forms in my throat. I’ve been thinking I hurt him—hurt them all—that I’d done something wrong.
And yet… he’s smiling.
Harlan leans forward from the edge of the mattress, cupping my cheek before brushing a kiss across my lips.
It’s soft and gentle. Nothing like the frantic, desperate kisses Evander and I had shared.
His thumb brushes beneath my eye, catching a tear before it can spill down my cheeks properly.
“You don’t need to be so frightened, little luxury,” Harlan murmurs before sitting back. “I’m happy for the pair of you. It’s been a long time coming, bonding properly, and it’s a good thing.”
A good thing.
The words settle deep in my chest, rubbing painfully against every awful conclusion I’d already convinced myself was true.