Chapter 17
I don't remember how long I cried, long enough that my throat felt raw and my head ached and the front of his jacket was damp where my face had been pressed against it
He stood there awkwardly at first, his hands raised like he didn't know what to do with them, like a man who had never been taught how to hold someone who was falling apart. I felt him hesitate. Then his arms came around me slowly, carefully, like I was something that might break if he got it wrong.
The next thing I knew, he had scooped me up.
One arm beneath my knees, the other at my back.
I was too tired to protest, too tired to do anything except let my head fall against his shoulder while he carried me to the couch.
He sat down with me on his lap, my legs draped over the armrest, my head tucked into the crook of his neck, his chin resting against my hair.
One hand found my waist. The other came up to cradle my head, fingers threading through my hair, slow and steady.
Subconscious, maybe. Like he didn't know he was doing it.
I cried harder then. Not the quiet tears from the doorway. Real crying. The kind that hurt your chest and left you gasping for air.
I don't know how long we stayed like that. Long enough for the sobs to quiet. Long enough for my breathing to even out. Long enough for the weight in my chest to become something I could carry again instead of something that was carrying me.
"How can they be so shameless, Cas?" The words came out raw and small. "After everything..."
I couldn't finish. Oliver's voice was still in my head.
You barely put effort into yourself. How do you expect me to look at only you?
The words kept looping, each time cutting deeper than the last.
Anne's text, bright and casual, like she hadn't destroyed everything.
Like I was someone she had simply lost touch with.
I pressed my face harder into his neck and cried again, quieter this time, the kind that came from somewhere deeper than the first wave.
"Are they the same two someones who hurt you before?" His voice was low, careful.
I blinked, trying to remember telling him about that night. The bar, the room full of men, the way I had sat in his lap and announced he would do. But I must have. Somewhere between the bar and the pancakes, I must have told him.
I nodded against his shoulder. I didn't have the words for more.
"Names."
I blinked. Lifted my head just enough to look at him. "Huh?"
"Names, kitten."
His face was unreadable, but something in his voice made me pause. I didn't know what he wanted with them. Didn't have the energy to ask.
"Oliver," I said. "And Anne."
My voice went smaller on the second name.
"I was with him for three years." I swallowed. "And I've known Anne since... I don't even remember. Since forever. They both—"
My throat closed up again. The words wouldn't come. The images did. The bedroom door ajar. The gift bag slipping from my hand. The way Anne had looked at me like I was the one who had done something wrong.
I pressed my lips together and tried to breathe.
His hand resumed its movement through my hair. No rush. No pressure. Just there.
I forced myself to keep talking because if I stopped I would start crying again and I didn't have anything left for that.
"I forgot the pendrive today." My voice came out flat. "The one I've been working on for months. The presentation. I had to present it and I just— it was sitting on my desk at home. I forgot it."
His hand paused for a fraction of a second, then kept going.
"I thought about calling you," I continued. "Asking you to bring it. But it was too late and I didn't even have your number and I just—"
I stopped. Swallowed.
"Where's your phone?" he asked.
"In my bag. Back pocket."
He reached for my bag on the floor, pulled out my phone, and pressed my thumb against the sensor. I watched through heavy eyes as his fingers moved across the screen. Then he handed it back to me.
I looked down.
'Someone very important' had been saved in my contact list.
A laugh escaped me before I could stop it. Small, weak, but real "Really?"
He looked at me with that flat expression he did so well. "At least you smiled."
I looked at the screen again. Someone very important. I didn't change it. I looked at kitchen, the food must have gotten cold by now, but the pleasant smell still filled the room.
"Did you cook?" I asked.
"Yeah." A pause. "It's cold now."
I closed my eyes again, letting my head fall back against his shoulder. "Mm."
"Kitten?"
"Mm?"
"Kitten."
I opened my eyes. "What?"
"Eat something."
I shook my head against his shoulder. "No."
"Kitten."
"Cas, please."
I lifted my head just enough to look at him, and I knew my eyes were still red, knew my face was blotchy and my nose was running and I looked like everything I had been holding in for weeks had finally spilled out. "I'm so tired. I don't want to do anything. I just want to sleep. Please."
He looked at me for a long moment. Then he sighed, and his lips pressed against the top of my head, warm and brief.
"Just this once," he said. "I won't let you skip dinner again, got it?"
"Mhm."
I let my eyes close again. His arms tightened around me, shifting slightly, and I felt him stand with me still in his arms, still holding on like I weighed nothing at all.
The bedroom door opened. The sheets were cool when he set me down. I reached for him without thinking, my hand finding his wrist, and he looked down at me with something I couldn't name.
"Stay," I whispered.
He looked at me for a long moment, maybe deciding.
Then the bed dipped beside me. His arm came around my waist, pulling me back against his chest, and I let myself go completely, every muscle relaxing for the first time in days, maybe in weeks.
His breath was warm against my hair. His arm was solid around me. And for the first time in a very long time, I fell asleep without dreaming of anything at all.