23. Vivienne
Vivienne
The next morning, I nearly trip down the stairs in my haste to get to the library.
I know Cass is already outside, because I saw him from my bedroom window pruning back the ivy.
After finding his note last night, I scribbled Good music, Cass on a piece of paper and tucked it between the pages, then left the book lying on the table.
I have no idea if he found it, let alone wrote me back, but that doesn’t keep my heart from pounding against my ribcage as I sail into the room.
Wuthering Heights is still where I left it, and I remind myself that he may have forgotten all about it by now.
But when I crack the book open, a new card is stuck inside.
Good taste, Vivvy.
A smile blooms on my face as I trace my thumb over his words.
After jotting down another note, I replace Cass’s, tucking it in my pocket.
I float upstairs, not even caring how inappropriate it is that he has made me feel more with three simple words than Landon has with everything he’s ever said to me.
Two days later, I’m beginning to think I was a little hasty in my assumptions about Cassian.
He didn’t write me back after my second note, and we’ve barely spoken two words to each other since that night.
For the first twenty-four hours, I checked the book religiously, but it soon became obvious he had no intention of leaving anything else.
Knowing it’s for the best doesn’t stop the sharp sting of pain. How am I not used to this by now?
The seating chart on my screen is starting to blur, and I shut my laptop with a groan. Resting my head on the desk, I vow to push Cassian Cordero as far from my thoughts as possible. With the way he’s been avoiding me, that shouldn’t be hard to do.
I give up on planning anything for the wedding until I’ve cleared my head.
After changing into riding breeches and boots, I head to the stables.
Rhya’s eager to see me, but not as eager as I am to see her.
I don’t know how I would have survived this wedding planning back in the city. She calms me the way nothing else does.
After I cinch the saddle around her belly, we head to the pasture.
Riding through the fields is the perfect antidote, as usual.
Feeling Rhya’s strength beneath me brings a kind of peace I only ever experience when I’m riding.
We practice our jumps, but neither of us likes that as much as when I give her free rein on the heath.
When we get back to the stables an hour later, I feel lighter than I have in weeks, maybe even years.
That feeling disappears the second I see Cassian in the center aisle. He’s kneeling, which only emphasizes the way his back strains at his black T-shirt and the way his arms bulge at the sleeves. Tattoos peek out from beneath the fabric, and I force my eyes away.
“What are you doing?” I ask, letting Rhya into her stall and grabbing a brush.
He’s holding a measuring tape and jotting something down in a notebook. The second he moves to look at me, I turn around and face my horse.
“I’m measuring the space for the tables and chairs. You still want to have the reception in here, don’t you?”
“Yes.”
The snap of the tape retracting is the only sound in the barn. I force myself to stare straight ahead, brushing Rhya’s coat until it gleams. Why did he have to be in here right now? The sooner Cass leaves, the sooner I can return to my relaxed state.
Instead, he unlatches the stall door and joins Rhya and me. I frown at him over her back, but he ignores me and scratches her between the ears. How does he know she likes that spot? Maybe he’s been seducing my horse behind my back.
He pulls a sugar cube from his jeans pocket and holds it out to her. She gobbles it up without a single qualm. I stuff my annoyance into the recesses of my mind and brush faster. If he’s not going to leave, it’s up to me to put some distance between us.
Maybe I don’t have a right to be miffed at him, but it doesn’t change the fact that I am. I’m tired of being a pawn in his little game. He hasn’t even explained the rules, so how am I supposed to stand a chance at winning?
Cass picks up another brush and begins grooming Rhya’s other side. I shoot him a glance while keeping my head down, but he’s not looking at me either. We work in silence for several minutes until he breaks it.
“You okay?”
My hand stops midstroke, but I recover quickly. “I’m fine. Why?”
“May want to take it easy with the brushing, is all.”
This time I can’t help but look at him. “Are you implying I don’t know what I’m doing?”
He continues as if I haven’t spoken, but one side of his mouth lifts in a half-smile. Great. He finds me amusing. “No, I just don’t think Rhya appreciates being scrubbed like that.”
I gape at him. “She’s my horse. I’ll decide what she does and doesn’t appreciate.” But even as I say it, I realize how ridiculous it sounds, and if Rhya could talk, she’d tell me to fuck off.
“I get the feeling there’s something else going on here,” Cass says.
“You’re damn right there is,” I snap.
His eyes soften as they meet mine over Rhya’s back. “What’s wrong?”
I don’t know if it was his intention, but his tone knocks all of the wind out of my sails. The stress of the wedding and getting married to Landon are responsible for how I feel, not Cassian. His actions may be messing with my head, but it’s not fair to lay all the blame at his feet.
“Vivvy.” He places his hand on top of mine, which is still holding the brush against Rhya’s coat. It sends shock waves through my system. I could’ve touched an electric fence and come away less affected.
“I’m sick of this, Cass. I can’t do it anymore.” I pull my hand away and toss the brush aside. It hits the hay with a soft thump.
He gives me a long, unwavering stare. “Can’t do what anymore?”
“This.” I gesture to the invisible chasm between us. “Pretending we’re fine when we haven’t been fine since that day at the hospital.”
Pain flashes across his face, then disappears just as quickly. “It’s been three years.”
“I’m fully aware of how long it’s been,” I say, slightly breathless. “Which is why I’ve had enough.”
He scratches the back of his neck. “I don’t know what you want me to say.”
My throat tightens, but I have to get this out. If I don’t, I may never have the courage to again. “I understand that you don’t want me, but I don’t know why you won’t just leave me alone.” If he would just stay away, I might have a fighting chance at moving on.
His eyes narrow as if he can’t quite believe what he’s hearing. “‘Don’t want you’? God, are you listening to yourself?”
I swallow the giant lump in my throat, doing my best to keep any and all tears at bay.
I cannot cry in front of him. Not now, not ever.
“What am I supposed to think? You push me away, you ignore me, but then you do things like take care of me and touch me and—” My voice cracks.
Beside me, Rhya stomps her front hoof. “I’m tired of having my heart jerked around, Cass. ”
He closes his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose. “You’re right. I’m sorry. That’s not fair to you.”
I gape at him, waiting for more. “That’s it? That’s all you’re going to say?”
When he hasn’t spoken after a full minute, Rhya nudges my shoulder with her nose as if suggesting we leave him behind.
“What else do you want me to say, Vivvy? Bash would’ve killed me.” Cass’s voice breaks through the silence of the barn and crashes into my brain with the speed of a passenger train.
“I’m sorry,” I say, squinting at him. “Are you saying that this whole thing is because of my brother?”
He resumes brushing Rhya’s coat in long, steady strokes. She dips her head in gratitude. “Come on, Viv. You know he would’ve lost his shit if he found out.”
“He was in a coma,” I say.
Cass stares at me with a hard expression. “And how do you think he would’ve reacted when he woke up?”
“So you made that decision all by yourself.” I cross my arms over my chest. I thought I was mad before, but now I’m furious. Who cares what Bash, or anyone else, thinks? “Since apparently, what I want doesn’t count for anything.”
“Of course it does,” Cass says. “But you would’ve done whatever everyone else wanted you to, the way you always do. I simply expedited the process.”
I blink, but it does little to numb the pain. It’s there, lashing like the strike of a whip across the raw skin of my heart, tearing me open and removing little chunks of flesh, until the only thing left is a bleeding mess.
“So that’s what you think of me,” I say with composure I don’t feel. “Thanks for clearing that up.”
“Viv, I didn’t mean it like that.”
I lift my eyes to meet his, willing away all traces of moisture. “You kissed me, then ignored me. You’ve been ignoring me for three years.”
“You’re the one who kissed me!”
Fresh pain lances through me, and I look down, expecting to see blood oozing from the hole in my chest. “I may have initiated that kiss, but I don’t remember you holding back.”
A long, heavy sigh heaves from Cass’s chest. “I was afraid you’d want more from me.”
I did want more. I still want more. I want every damn thing from him. “Then why’d you kiss me back?” I whisper, doing my best not to crumble.
“I’m a red-blooded, heterosexual man. Why do you think?”
A bullet to the heart would have hurt less.
For three years, I’ve been processing his rejection, the way he kissed me like I meant the world to him, then walked away like I was a dirty tissue on the floor.
I’ve avoided thinking about it for so long that doing so now unleashes the locked gates holding back the pain.
This time, there’s no keeping the tears at bay. They spill over onto my cheeks, and I turn aside before he can see them. I press both hands into my eyes and fight to keep from sobbing out loud. As if I needed another reminder that Cassian doesn’t feel the same way I do.
“Come on, Viv. That didn’t come out right.” His hand is firm and warm on my shoulder, but I ignore him. After several moments, he forces me to turn and wraps his arms around me.
I want to hate the way he smells, the way he feels, the way he makes me feel, but I can’t. He’s too real, too overpowering, too masculine, too Cassian. I bury my face in his shirt until the urge to cry goes away.
“Hey,” he says, stroking my back the way he stroked Rhya. “I’m sorry. You know I’m shit at this stuff.”
I wipe away the remains of my tears. Now is not the time to fall apart, and Cass is not the man to fall apart in front of. I take a deep breath and steel myself for this next part. “I need you to be honest with me. Was I just a snog to you?” I take a step back, forcing him to drop his arms.
“My god.” He rubs a hand over his face. “Of course not, Vivvy.”
“Then why’d you act like that’s all it was?”
“Because I didn’t want this to happen!” He waves at the space between us as exasperation tinges his words. “I wanted to kiss you. But I knew it would screw everything up, and if Bash ever found out—”
“It screwed everything up anyway.”
“I know.” He shoves his fingers into his hair, and my eyes are drawn to his ivy tattoo like a magnet. “I’m sorry. I just don’t know who to be around you anymore.”
His quiet admission melts the remains of my anger, turns it to ash that floats away on the breeze. I can’t stay mad at him, not with the amount of pain lurking in his eyes. This whole thing has hurt him, too. In a different way, maybe, but pain is pain.
“Just be yourself,” I say, matching his hushed tones. “I miss you, Cass.”
“I miss you too.” He scuffs his shoe against the floor of the stall. “And I’m sorry for fucking everything up.”
“So where does that leave us?” I’m scared to know the answer but too desperate not to ask.
He tilts his head to the side, a heaviness tugging on his features. “Can we go back to being friends?”
I nod, even though there’s a lump the size of Europe in my chest. “Friends.” I extend my hand.
He stares at it for two seconds before accepting it. He doesn’t pull me into a hug the way he did the other night, just clasps my fingers in a firm grip. Finally, he releases me. “Friends.”
I offer him a shaky smile, because as much as I wish I could turn back the clock and undo that stupid kiss, I can’t. As much as Cass and I might want to restore our friendship, there’s no getting around the fact that nothing has really changed.
He’s still the only man I’ve ever loved, and I’m still the girl he’s not willing to fight for.