39. Harlan #3
I lean quietly against the doorframe. She hasn’t noticed me, but I’m glad she’s in her nest now.
When Evander was here earlier today, she was at her desk, no matter how miserable it makes her.
She’s sitting curled into the corner of her nest, laptop balanced across her knees, one of the oversized blankets pulled around her shoulders, despite the office being comfortably warm.
She’s reading something, but I don’t care about the work she’s doing.
Not when she looks this exhausted. This drained. I don’t know what she’s eaten in the last couple of days, if anything, and I’m pretty sure she’s barely slept.
She’s paler than usual, her hair more frizzy and untamed. It breaks my heart.
I close the door behind me and move over to her desk, checking on the coffee that’s there.
It’s cold to the touch and completely untouched. No proof she’s eaten today.
Her pencil lies between the pages of an open notebook, the end chewed to pieces.
Fuck.
She reaches up to rub her temple, wincing before dropping her hand again.
A headache.
Oh, this just won’t fucking do.
“Hi, shortcake,” I say softly, sitting on the edge of her desk.
She startles, blinking rapidly before looking over at me. Her face immediately brightens, and her smile is wide.
“Hi,” she says. “What are you doing here, Isa?”
I smile softly. “I came to visit my mate and check in on her.”
Cassidy flinches, her scent souring a little. “I’m sorry. I hoped I would be over at Silas’s tonight, but…”
“You’ve had neither lunch nor dinner,” I say calmly. “And I doubt you’ve had breakfast either. You look exhausted, shortcake.”
Her brows knit together, and she hangs her head, shame filling our bond.
Oh, my love.
“I…” she trails off, biting her dry lips. She looks around the office as though the answer might be hidden somewhere amongst the fabric samples.
“I’m not trying to belittle you, shortcake,” I say softly. “You forgot because there is a lot going on right now.”
She looks up at me in surprise, and I give her a gentle look.
“So, I’m here to get some dinner into you, if possible,” I say. “But also to keep you company tonight so that you’re not here alone. Evander is going to bring you in some fresh clothes, and I’ll spend the night.”
Her eyes widen. “You… you’ll stay here with me?”
I raise a brow, channeling Silas the best I can. She never seems to doubt him.
“Are you kidding me? A chance to get you all to myself?” I tease, and she blushes. “Cassie, I’m here for whatever you need. Right now, it’s some company so you can remember you’re not alone.”
She stares at me for a long moment, but I can feel the love from her, scent the adoration.
She’s so relieved, so grateful.
Fuck, I am obsessed with this woman. So grateful she trusts me to look out for her.
That I can be somewhere safe to land while all this work shit tears through her life.
She shifts over instinctively, making room for me in her nest.
It’s such a small movement, but something warm curls around me anyway.
I kick off my shoes and climb in beside her, immediately loving the way her scent perfumes a little stronger at my presence.
She leans against my shoulder, and I press a kiss to her temple.
“I love you, Isa,” Cassidy murmurs.
“I love you, too, shortcake,” I reply, squeezing her gently. “Get comfortable, okay? I’m going to order us some food and do some of my work whilst we’re here.”
She nods and gives me a soft smile before going back to her laptop. I’m so glad she doesn’t apologise, doesn’t check in again.
She just… trusts me when I tell her I’m here for her. That this is our plan.
Progress.
So much fucking progress.
She’s a wonder.
I tuck one leg beneath me, leaning back against the wall as she pulls the blanket over both of us without even thinking about it.
I don’t ask her what she wants for dinner, knowing it’s going to be another burden on her shoulders.
Instead, I open our delivery app and order from the café ten minutes away.
She loves the paninis from there. I can get her a hot chocolate rather than a coffee, which will keep her awake.
She hums happily when I place the order, her attention still fixed on the laptop balanced across her knees.
A couple of months ago, she’d have apologised three more times by now. She’d have insisted I go home and not waste my night babysitting her.
But tonight, she’s trusting I want to be here. Willing to accept I need to help her.
I open my own laptop, answering a handful of emails whilst she works beside me, the comfortable silence settling around us like another blanket.
She shifts a little closer after a few minutes, not stopping what she’s doing, but unconsciously seeking enough contact to keep my scent around her.
I smile to myself, pretending to concentrate on an email that’s probably going to need rewriting tomorrow, but I don’t give a fuck.
Tonight was never about getting work done—it was about being here for her.
A quiet sniffle pulls my attention away from my work, and I glance down at where she’s currently staring at her screen.
Her shoulders are hunched over, her eyes shining with tears, and I can feel her sorrow in my chest stronger than I can even feel my emotions.
“You’ve rewritten that sentence four times, strawberry shortcake,” I murmur.
She startles, her cheeks flushing as she looks up at me in horror. “I… thank you. I’ll get that fixed.”
“That wasn’t what I was meaning,” I say gently.
She sighs, almost as if she didn’t hear me. “I can’t seem to get anything right these days.”
Something inside me sinks at hearing her defeat, and I close my laptop, putting it to one side. I wrap my arm around her back, doing my best to encourage her to cuddle with me.
“Can I ask you a question, love?” I ask.
She sniffles again and nods.
“If Silas, or Evander, or I had worked over fifty hours this week, barely slept, forgotten to eat, and watched months of our work implode overnight and then told you he couldn’t concentrate, what would you say to us?”
She gasps, her heart racing, as her scent seems to close in on itself.
She frowns, looking up at me like I’m silly. “It wouldn’t be his fault. He’s struggling because he’s exhausted.”
Another nod from me. “And that’s the case for you, too, Cassidy.”
She shivers where we lay, and when I gently tug her closer to me, she closes her laptop, letting me lay us both down.
She smiles faintly when I kiss her forehead.
“I don’t like work right now,” she whispers. The confession is so quiet I almost miss it.
“I’m not surprised.”
“I’ve never not liked it before,” she admits. She swallows roughly, clutching at my shirt as if to steady herself.
Her heart is racing, I can feel it under my fingers. I’m holding her wrist, and it’s skyrocketing. These palpitations can’t be healthy.
“I’m out of my mind, and I don’t know what to do,” she says, her voice still small, still full of her pain. “I’ve always loved fashion, always known what I wanted to do. And now that I’m here doing it…”
Her fingers twist nervously in my shirt as she inches closer to me.
“Oh, shortcake.” I kiss her hair, not wanting to disturb her too much.
“I’m scared that if I keep feeling like this…” She trails off, sniffling again. I wipe her nose with my sleeve, and she groans at me, batting it away.
“If you keep feeling like this?” I prompt.
“That I’ll never find something I love just as much to do. I’ve worked so hard… and it feels silly to have done so when I’m now miserable.”
The vulnerability in her words steals the breath from my lungs. It isn’t that she’s struggling. It’s that she’s letting me see it.
I reach across the blanket, threading my fingers through hers.
“Cass.”
She squeezes my hand immediately but doesn’t look up at me. I don’t think she can.
“You don’t have to decide what the rest of your career looks like during the worst week you’ve ever had.”
She lets out a shaky breath.
“If this feeling’s still here once the dust settles…” I brush my thumb across her knuckles. “Then we’ll make another plan together.”
“We?” she asks, her pulse stuttering again.
“Always.”
Her eyes close for just a second as she breathes in my scent. I can feel the way she relaxes in my arms.
“I’m so grateful,” she whispers. “I love you, Isa. I love our family, our pack… I love you.”
I can’t stop my smile. “I love you more.”
A knock at the office door interrupts us, and I untangle myself from Cassidy to answer it.
The smell of toasted bread reaches us the moment I open the door. An intern is waiting outside with our delivery bags. I thank him, and he nods, before leaving.
After closing the door once more, Cassidy peeks her head out the end of her nest and grins at me.
“I completely forgot you were ordering,” she says brightly. “It smells amazing.”
“I know.”
Her tummy grumbles, and she looks down at it in shock.
“I’m an idiot,” she mutters.
“You were busy, and it’s no wonder you’ve not wanted to eat when you’ve been this anxious,” I say with an edge of firmness. “Come out, and we’ll eat at the desk and pretend everything is okay for a little bit.”
She does without hesitating, taking my hand up, and moving to clear the second office chair opposite her desk. I love that she’d rather sit next to me than opposite.
For as long as I’ve known her, Cassidy’s instinct has been to carry everything alone.
But lately, she’s making room for me, for all of us. She’s acknowledging her needs, sharing her feelings… being honest with us, even when it scares her.
Maybe this is what trusting us looks like.
Somewhere along the way, she’s started believing her worth isn’t defined by how useful she is.
It’s defined by her.
SILAS
The moment the doors open and the scents from the bull pen hit me, I know this week has gone too far.
Stress has a scent. So does fear.
Everyone on this floor feels one or both.
They’ve clearly all had too much coffee, too little sleep, and their bodies are being pushed beyond what’s sustainable.
I pause for half a second, letting the scents separate, before stepping onto the floor. It’s enough to set every instinct I possess on edge. Pack or not, disorder like this demands intervention.