Chapter 28
The days blurred into each other.
Sometimes I woke in the middle of the night, certain I could still feel his hands on me, the bruises throbbing beneath the surface.
Other times, I stayed in bed long past noon, staring at the ceiling until my mom knocked softly.
Then, she walked into my room, busied herself with opening the curtains, and left a mug of tea on my nightstand, demanding that I come down to eat.
They all tried, in their own ways.
Clara sat cross-legged on my bed some nights, talking softly about Jackson and Mason, about anything but Andrew, as if pretending none of it happened might make it untrue.
Chase stopped by nearly every day after work with dad, barging in with his easy grin and takeout bags, begging me to “at least pretend to eat something,” like he could bully me into healing.
Even Adam and Brody came by, their voices cajoling, I could hear them downstairs with Chase.
Trying to get me to the pub, “She just needs to be around people,” Adam said, but I couldn’t do it.
I couldn't even face Brody... When I thought about him, all I could see was what he must have witnessed when he first came into my apartment that morning.
I saw the dark circles and haunted expressions of my family.
But the idea of seeing that look, seeing pity or something worse on Brody. I couldn't face it yet.
I knew I needed to face him, I needed to... thank him.
I definitely wasn’t ready to be out in the open, where the whispers would be loud and people could stare.
So I buried myself in Mason’s mess instead.
Hours blurred into days spent hunched over his laptop, spreadsheets open, untangling contracts and cross-referencing invoices.
It wasn’t glamorous work, but it kept me from thinking too hard about myself.
It gave my hands something to do when my mind refused to rest. And slowly, painfully, I started making progress.
Andrew hadn’t pressed charges against Brody or Mason, but the threat hung in the air like a storm waiting to break.
My dad kept reminding me our lawyer was on it, that we had witnesses, statements, photographs, everything we needed, but I still woke up in a cold sweat sometimes, choking on a scream, imagining Andrew telling a different story and people believing him.
Everything felt stuck in a loop... until it wasn’t.
Suddenly, it was the week of Christmas.
I didn’t even know how we got there.
I sat in the backseat of Mom's SUV, the world outside softened beneath a dusting of snow, while she and Clara chatted about dinner plans and gifts and little things that had nothing to do with me. I clung to their voices like lifelines, letting their normalcy wash over me.
We stopped at a boutique downtown for last-minute gifts, then wandered into a stationery shop. The warm scent of paper and cedar candles filled the air.
Mom drifted toward a display of journals, running her fingers along the spines before plucking a few from the shelf. “You used to write in these,” she said softly, offering one to me. A muted forest-green leather cover, the kind of thing I would have loved once.
I frowned at it, my throat tight.
“Cassidy,” she said gently, setting it into my hands.
“You don’t have to talk to anyone before you’re ready.
But maybe… write. Get it out somehow.” She grabbed a handful of pens, sliding them onto the counter with a stack of journals.
“It doesn’t have to make sense. Just start.
Journal for you, to get it out of your head. ”
I nodded, but I wasn’t sure I believed her.
We were walking back down the street when it happened.
Andrew stepped out of a storefront ahead of us. He wasn’t alone; another man followed, laughing at something he’d said, but the moment Andrew saw me, everything stopped.
I stopped.
The restraining order was in effect, but he didn’t move, didn’t look away. His eyes found mine, and it was like all the air in the world disappeared. The man beside him was trying to get his attention, trying to pull him away.
“Keep walking,” Clara murmured beside me, her voice low and steady. “You will not let him win, Cass. He can cross the road. He can move. Not you.”
So we kept walking. One slow, deliberate step after another. It was like everything slowed and was tunnelling in his direction. It took everything in me to put one foot in front of the other and force my body to walk towards him.
I heard him curse under his breath, then the sound of his boots crunching over snow as he finally crossed to the other side of the street.
But the damage was already done.
People watched from shop windows, their breath fogging the glass. A girl holding a phone up, recording. Two others whispering behind mittened hands. The murmurs felt louder than the traffic, louder than the snow beneath my boots.
I realized, suddenly, that this had become entertainment for them. My humiliation. My pain. My entire life was pulled apart in public.
“I just…” My voice cracked, barely more than a whisper. “I just want to go home.”
Mom’s hand tightened on my arm. Her chin lifted, her shoulders straight, her voice sharp enough to cut glass.
“Cassidy, you are a Morgan,” she said firmly, never slowing her pace.
“Act like it. You think this town hasn’t whispered about me?
About your father? About Chase being thirty and perpetually single, about your sister’s marriage falling apart?
People will always talk. Be sure of who you are, and let them. ”
I swallowed hard, my throat aching. “I’m not sure of anything anymore,” I admitted, my voice shaking.
Mom’s expression softened, just a little. “That’s because you haven’t healed yet, sweetheart. You went through hell. You are still coming back from it. But you will. You don’t have to do it alone.”
Clara slipped her hand into mine, squeezing once, grounding me when my chest felt too tight to breathe.
Mom glanced back at us, her voice brightening as if she could will normalcy into existence. “Come on, let’s stop at Adam’s for lunch. We’ll pick up some preserves, grab goodies for the holidays, and check in on plans with the Palmers.”
I almost said no. Almost told her I couldn’t face anyone else looking at me like I was something to whisper about.
But she just kept walking, her head high, and Clara’s hand didn’t let go.
And so I followed.