Chapter 24
I woke up to gray light bleeding in around the edges of the curtains, my head pounding like I’d been drinking all night, even though I hadn’t.
I was sure there was a half-drunk glass of wine still out in my living room.
The clock on the nightstand said it was almost nine, but it felt like I’d barely closed my eyes.
His laptop was still open on the coffee table, files and notes scattered around like pieces of a puzzle I didn’t know how to solve yet.
Mason was sprawled on the couch, one arm flung over his face, his chest rising and falling in slow, uneven breaths.
He was out, like finally sharing his burden gave his body permission to sleep.
The whole night replayed in fragments: his wrecked face at my door, the bottle of wine, the avalanche of his confessions. The company bleeding out. The double mortgage. The assistant from hell.
And me, agreeing to help him.
But only with conditions:
Fire Mel.
Figure out what he could from the person who referred her.
Come clean to Clara.
Start therapy, individually and together, or there was no fixing any of this.
I had meant every word.
I was still sitting there at my dining room table, staring at the chaos that was my life, clutching my mug like it could anchor me, when a sharp knock rattled the door.
My stomach dropped. For one dizzy, icy second, my mind screamed Andrew.
I looked at a still sleeping Mason, knowing he wouldn't let Andrew bulldoze his way in here, then crossed the room cautiously, heart pounding, and yanked the door open, only to find Clara standing there.
Her expression was tight, her coat unzipped, cheeks flushed from the cold. “Hey,” she said softly. “Can I come in?”
I blinked, caught off guard. “Uh...”
And then Mason shifted on the couch. Clara’s gaze snapped past me. Her brows pulled tight, her mouth flattening into a sharp line as her whole body stiffened. She stepped inside before I could stop her.
“What the fuck is going on here?” Her voice was sharp enough to cut.
For one sharp, brutal second, I thought she believed it too. That even my sister could look at me and see only what the town saw.
My chest squeezed painfully. I shook my head so fast my vision blurred. “Clara, no. God, no! I would never...” My voice cracked on the last word, breaking apart as heat stung my cheeks and tears pooled in my eyes. “I would never. You have to know that...”
Her face softened instantly. She stepped closer, grabbing my shoulders like she could tether me back to the ground.
“Cass. Stop. I know. I know you’d never.
” Her jaw tightened again as she turned her glare on Mason.
“That’s not why I’m here. I’m here because after yesterday, after Andrew, after everything. .."
She sighed and looked at Mason, who was now standing with his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides, like he didn't know what to do with himself. "I come in and find him here? Cass, you’re not exactly his biggest fan right now. I need to know why.”
Relief and exhaustion collided, leaving me hollow. I dragged a hand through my messy hair, fingers tangling in the mess of waves, muttering, “Your husband can explain that.” Turning toward the hallway, I said, “I’m getting ready for work.”
I shut the bathroom door behind me and cranked the shower on.
The spray pounded against my skin, drowning out the muffled voices in the other room. I pressed my forehead against the cool tile, steam curling around me, and let my thoughts spiral the way I couldn’t last night.
Andrew’s hands on me in that hallway. Victoria’s words, sharp and cutting. The whispers in town, homewrecker, whore, circling faster than I could outrun them. Mason’s business was falling apart. Clara’s unnecessary pain. Jackson’s little voice asking why people were mean.
And beneath it all, a memory I didn’t want but couldn’t stop: Andrew lying next to me in my bed, his hand over my stomach, whispering promises he had no right to make. "I want us forever. I want you pregnant and barefoot, Cass. Just mine. Always mine."
I slammed the mental door shut on it.
Not anymore.
I inhaled sharply, closing my eyes as the water cascaded over me. I couldn’t keep living like this, pinned under other people’s choices. I couldn’t keep letting Andrew wreck me or the whispers define me.
I was going to get my life back.
I was going to help Clara untangle this mess.
And I was going to move the fuck on.
By the time I stepped out, my skin pink from the heat, I felt steadier, even if my hands still shook faintly.
I tried to linger in my room as long as I could, giving Mason the chance to try and fix what he had broken. If nothing else, try to explain it anyway.
The apartment was quiet when I walked out.
Clara was by the window, arms wrapped around herself, her eyes red but softer than I’d seen them in months. Mason sat hunched on the edge of the couch, elbows on his knees, like he’d been waiting for judgment.
Clara turned when she heard me and crossed the room in three fast steps, pulling me into her arms. “Thank you,” she whispered fiercely against my hair. “Thank you for helping. For trying. For not letting him drown without fighting for us.”
I swallowed hard past the lump in my throat, blinking back tears.
Clara's tears soaked into my sweater, and for once, I didn’t feel like I was falling apart.
I felt like a piece of something holding her together.
My gaze flicked to Mason; he looked like he'd gone 10 rounds, but lighter somehow, like someone had finally thrown him a rope.
I hugged Clara back tightly. “I’ll help you fix this,” I whispered into her hair. “Both of you. Whatever it takes.”
Clara pulled back, tears spilling freely now. “Cass… you have enough going on. You don’t need this, too.”
A broken laugh slipped out of me, shaky but real. “Are you kidding? It’s a good distraction from my shit show of a life.”
Clara actually laughed, wet and soft, and some of the heaviness in the room cracked open.
I squeezed her hand and glanced between them both. “We’re family, Clara. Even that jackass of a brother-in-law.”
Mason winced, but I didn’t soften it.
“I’m here,” I said, steady this time. “I’ll do whatever I can to help get you out of this, and figure out what the hell Mel’s really after.”
For the first time in what felt like forever, Clara nodded. Not broken. Not bitter. Just… hopeful. And it settled something deep in me, a quiet promise I wasn’t letting go of:
I was going to make this right.
For her.
For Jackson.
For me.