Chapter 30 #2
“What if she leaves me?” The words were barely a whisper, meant for no one. Meant for the bunnies. Meant for the dark.
What if she leaves me like everyone leaves me? What if this is the thing that finally makes her realize I’m not worth staying for? What if she wakes up and looks at me and sees someone who wasn’t there when it mattered?
Cassian’s breath shredded. A raw, broken sound that cut through the night.
He took a deep breath, steadying himself, and wiped his face with the back of his hand. Then his hands were on my face again, tilting my chin up until I had no choice but to meet his eyes.
“Be selfish.”
I blinked, trying to clear the blur of tears. “What?”
He wiped my tears again—useless, beautiful, endless.
“You know what I did after your accident?” His eyes held mine.
“I played the blame game. The what if game. Over and over and over. What if I’d come home on time?
What if I’d just talked to you? What if I’d tried harder to stop you instead of freezing at the doorway?
” His jaw tightened. “What if, what if, what if. It played in my head on a loop. I was the reason for your accident. I was the reason you suffered.”
He swallowed hard. “After that, I should have left you alone. I should have given you space. I should have accepted that I didn’t deserve to be anywhere near you.”
He leaned closer, his forehead almost touching mine.
“But I didn’t. Because I’m selfish. I’m extremely selfish when it comes to you.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “And that selfishness is the only reason I’m not at home right now, drowning in guilt. It’s the only reason I’m standing here in front of you, holding you in my arms.”
A tear slipped down his cheek. I watched it fall.
“You’re worried she might be mad at you?” He squeezed my face gently, making sure I was listening. “That she might not want to see you? That she might leave?” He shook his head, conviction burning through the tears. “She won’t. No one who truly knows you can ever walk away from you.”
“But if you’re worried—if that fear is eating you alive—then be selfish.
” His voice grew urgent, pleading. “See her anyway. Let her yell at you if she needs to. Let her cry. Let her do whatever she needs to do to get rid of the anger. Be selfish and beg for her forgiveness. Be selfish and don’t let her go. ”
He paused, his eyes burning into mine.
“Because I won’t.”
The words hung between us, heavy and light all at once. A promise. A declaration. A simple, impossible truth.
I blinked rapidly, the tears clearing, his face coming into focus.
He didn’t look as confident as his voice had sounded. Not even close. He looked sad. Wrecked. Heartbroken. Like he’d just poured out every ugly part of himself and was waiting for me to walk away.
My hands finally moved. They rose, trembling, and cupped his cheeks. I wiped his tears. My palms settled against his skin, warm and wet, holding him the way he’d held me.
“Let’s go back.” His voice was barely a whisper.
I stared into his eyes. His pupils had swallowed almost all the brown, leaving his eyes dark, wide, and bottomless. I moved closer, searching, needing to find it. Needing to find him beneath all this pain.
He tilted his head, confused by my sudden closeness.
And then the light shifted, just slightly, and I saw it. A flicker of brown. Warm and human and him.
My eyes locked onto it.
“Be selfish.” My voice was so small I barely recognized it.
His eyes didn’t leave mine. “Yes. Be selfish.”
I nodded. “Okay.”
I wrapped my arms around him and pressed myself against his chest. My head found its place, right over his heart, like it had been waiting. He didn’t hesitate. His arms closed around me instantly, tight and secure, pulling me into the warmth of him.
My body felt so weak. The adrenaline, the fear, the tears, the confession—it had all hollowed me out, left me empty and shaking. I just needed to rest. Just for a bit. Just long enough to breathe again.
He held me like he understood. Like he needed it too.
After a few minutes, I heard myself say it. The words just… came.
“The accident wasn’t your fault.”
He tensed against me. Every muscle went rigid, like he’d been struck.
I kept going, my voice muffled against his chest. “It’s nobody’s fault. Sometimes things just happen. No matter how much you try to stop them, no matter how careful you are. The accident was one of those things.”
He didn’t relax. Not for a long time. Just stood there, rigid and holding his breath, like he was waiting for the words to sink in or shatter him.
Then I felt it. The tension leaking out of his shoulders. His arms loosening just a fraction before tightening again.
“Michael was wrong.” His voice was rough against my hair. “Whatever he said about you was bullshit. Every word. Okay?”
I didn’t say anything. Couldn’t. The words were stuck somewhere between my heart and my throat.
He pulled me closer. “Say okay.”
I rubbed slow circles into his back. “Okay.”
He nodded against me. “Okay.”
I started counting his heartbeats. One. Two. Three. Four.
“Why can’t he find a hobby instead?” I murmured. “Doesn’t he get bored with all this scheming?”
I felt his nod, his chin moving against the top of my head. “Yeah. Like Mr. Garcia. He has hobbies. He taught me so many things—about plants, about soil, about patience.” A pause. “I’ll show you one day.”
His heart sped up. Just a little. A flutter.
“Okay.”
Back to normal. Steady. Safe.
“What’s Mrs. Garcia’s hobby?” He asked.
His heartbeat slowly found the same rhythm as mine. “Going to casinos.”
A huff of laughter escaped him. I felt it in his chest, in the arms around me, in the way his body shook just slightly. “Does she win a lot?”
I shook my head against him. “No. She loses every time. That’s why she’s only allowed to go once a year.
She spends the whole twelve months saving up all the money she’s going to lose in that one evening.
” He was stroking my head now, slow and soothing.
“Her other hobby is playing board games with Mr. Garcia. She says it’s the only time he’s competitive about anything. ”
I felt his lips press against the top of my head. “They are adorable.”
“They are.”
His arms were secured around me, like they’d been made to hold me. Then, so quietly I almost missed it, he whispered against my ear. “We’re better.”
I didn’t say anything. Didn’t move. Didn’t respond.
But a smile sneaked up on my face anyway. Small. Private. Real.
We fell silent. The world kept turning.
But all I heard was his heartbeat.
I focused on it. Let it fill my ears, my chest, my whole awareness. It felt like music. A rhythm that made sense when nothing else did.
“Let’s stay here a few more minutes,” he murmured. “Then we’ll go. Okay?”
“Okay.”
My mind was a chaos of a thousand things I needed to do. Naija. Michael. The media disaster that would hit by morning. Plans to make, damage to control, people to protect.
But all I wanted in that moment was to rest.
Just for a few minutes.
So I did.
In the middle of the night. On a random street. Wearing my pajamas and shoes with tiny bunnies on them.
I rested.
I rested by hugging Cassian.