Chapter 25
I dressed to feel good.
Not for anyone else, not anymore, but for me.
Under my winter coat and scarf, I’d slipped into my favourite black sweater, the soft one that hugged my body in all the right ways, paired with dark jeans and boots that made me feel steady, grounded.
I’d swiped on mascara and a touch of lip tint, not because I expected anyone to notice, but because lately I felt like I’d been disappearing, piece by piece.
Today, I wanted to remember what it felt like to be me for me.
It had been a few days since Mason had confided in me.
My days had been filled with work and digging into the chaos that was his business.
Mason had fired Mel and was dealing with that backlash.
Clara was quiet, but she seemed lighter now.
She had even let Mason go over to our parents' for lunch with the family.
She had sent me a picture of Jackson and Mason cuddling on the couch, accompanied by a simple caption: 'thank you. '
The bell above the bookstore door jingled softly as I pushed it open, warmth curling around me, carrying the faint scent of paper and coffee. Abby was at the back stocking a new display, and Reggie was up on a ladder fiddling with the new track lights.
Abby spotted me first and raised her brows. “Well, damn,” she said, grinning. “Look at you. Dressed to kill.”
Reggie peeked over his shoulder and nodded appreciatively. “Cass, you’re making the rest of us look bad.”
I rolled my eyes, tugging off my gloves. “Please. It’s just a sweater and mascara.”
Abby’s grin turned sly. “Uh-huh. Is this about the hot book guy?”
The air snagged in my lungs. My hands stilled on my scarf as I forced my expression to be neutral. “No,” I said tightly. “That’s… over.”
Abby’s teasing softened immediately, her smile dimming. “Oh.” She hesitated, then lowered her voice. “Cass, is that why you’re moving back home?”
I shook my head, busying myself behind the counter. “There are a lot of reasons,” I said, keeping my tone light. “But mostly… It’s just time I do something for myself. Follow my own dream for once.”
Something unreadable crossed Abby’s face, but before she could say more, she glanced at her watch. “I’ve got a hair appointment,” she said, grabbing her purse. “Hold the fort while I’m gone, yeah?”
“Always,” I said, smiling faintly.
Once she left, the quiet settled in like an old friend.
I perched on the stool behind the counter, opening my laptop.
I’d made the decision last night that I was going to take on a few more ghostwriting contracts.
Build my savings up to make sure I could help Clara and Mason get through this mess without drowning.
And then, when the dust settled, maybe, finally, start working toward building the house I’d been dreaming about for years.
I scrolled through the list of offers waiting in my inbox, already mentally sorting through which ones had the best timelines and payouts, when the door chimed behind me.
“Hi,” a customer called softly. “Do you have a copy of No Redemption Road?”
“Of course,” I said, standing quickly and guiding them toward the display table near the back. By the time I returned to the counter, Reggie had climbed down from the ladder… and was leaning over my laptop.
He looked up, wide-eyed and grinning. “Cass! You didn’t tell me you’re a writer!”
My heart stuttered, panic flaring hot until I realized nothing incriminating had been opened, just vague offer details. Relief rushed through me, chased immediately by a sharp pang of discomfort.
“It’s… nothing big,” I said, forcing casualness into my tone. “Just freelance contracts.”
“Freelance?” He raised a brow, already intrigued. “So do we have any of your books in the store?”
I laughed, a soft, nervous sound. “I can't say.”
That was apparently the wrong answer, because Reggie grinned like I’d just issued a challenge. He darted around the nearest shelf, grabbing random titles and holding them up one by one.
“Hot or cold?” he demanded, waggling the first book.
“Cold,” I said, rolling my eyes.
He grabbed another. “This one?”
“Colder.”
It became a game, his laugh bright and infectious, the tension I’d been carrying loosening a little with each ridiculous guess. It felt light and fun and so different than anything I had been feeling lately... well, for far too long if I was being honest.
And then the door opened.
I didn’t even need to look to know something was wrong. The air shifted, sharp and cold.
Abby walked in.
Her shoulders were stiff, her expression tight, and something in her eyes made my stomach twist. “What’s going on here?” Her tone was clipped, colder than I’d ever heard it.
Reggie froze mid-reach for another book, confused. “We’re… just having some fun?”
Abby’s gaze flicked between us before she moved to stand between him and me, her posture protective in a way that didn’t make sense until the weight of it sank in.
My chest went hollow.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I said softly, the realization slamming into me.
Abby didn’t answer, but the look in her eyes, wary, searching, suspicious, said everything.
A bitter laugh escaped before I could swallow it down. “So this is how it’s going to be, huh? Rumour mill spins at the salon, and suddenly, you don’t even know me anymore. I can't laugh with your husband without being accused of something.”
“Cass, that’s not...”
I cut her off, voice trembling despite my best efforts to hold it steady.
“Three years, Abby. I’ve worked here for three years.
Never once has it been an issue for me and Reggie to be friendly, and now suddenly…
” I gestured vaguely between us. “Now suddenly you think...” My throat closed, the words choking off.
I’d survived strangers whispering in the streets, Victoria’s venom, and Andrew’s obsession.
But Abby? Abby looking at me like I was capable of betraying her?
Reggie stepped forward, his confusion shifting into something closer to anger. “Wait, what? Abby, is that what this is? You think something’s going on between us?”
She didn’t answer. She didn’t need to.
Her silence was enough.
I shut my laptop hard, the sound making both of them flinch. I shoved it into my bag, my hands shaking, my vision blurring with the tears I refused to let fall. “If this is how it’s going to be, then fine. My notice is up. I’m done.”
“Cass...”
I didn’t let her finish, I felt like I was going to be sick.
“I can’t believe you’d think that,” I said, my voice cracking under the weight of it.
“That you’d believe them over me. That you didn’t even ask.
You didn't come to me first, before assuming.” I swallowed hard, forcing the lump in my throat down.
“Thank you for the opportunity to work here, Abby. My notice period is complete.”
And with that, I grabbed my things and walked out. I could hear them talking in the background, but I couldn't make out the words.
I felt like my breath was coming too fast, and the cold was choking, clawing at my throat with each struggling inhale.
The drive back to my apartment blurred past in muted streaks of gray and white, the cold leeching through the windows, my fingers locked tight around the steering wheel. By the time I got home, I was numb.
The silence of my apartment pressed in on me, but at least it was mine. I dropped my bag, locked the door behind me, and slid down to the floor until my knees hit my chest.
I didn’t know how long I sat there before the sobs came, rough and silent, until I had nothing left in me but exhaustion.
Eventually, I pulled myself together enough to grab my phone and call home.
“Hey,” I said when Mom answered, my voice raw and shaky. “I’m moving back sooner than planned. When can someone bring a truck?”