4. Blyss Monroe #2
“Uh, no.” I gave a weak smile. “I, uh… came to see if there were any hard feelings. I hope you and your brother didn’t fall out because of me. I was just upset the other night about how you acted when that woman walked up, so I vented to Tuesday. Who might’ve told Jace?”
Kase didn’t flinch. “My brother don’t run shit over here, so I wasn’t trippin’. What’s in the box?”
I stepped forward, holding it up like a peace treaty. “Double-fudge cookies. Your favorite. A peace offering.”
His eyes flicked from the box to me, lips twitching with amusement. “You tryna bribe me after talkin’ about me like a dog to anybody who’d listen?”
“No,” I said, lying with a straight face.
He cracked the box open like it was treasure. “You know how I feel about these.”
“I know,” I smiled.
“You want one?” he asked out of habit.
“Nope. I’m staying off sweets.”
He grinned. “Cool. More for me.”
I sat down across from him, casually watching as he took a bite.
The pill Old Man Nelson gave me would dissolve easily, no taste, no trace.
It was already working its way through him.
I just had to be patient. For the next fifteen minutes, he worked like I wasn’t even there, quietly demolishing half the box while clicking through emails and muttering under his breath.
After waiting for a bit, I decided to see if the pills worked by making conversation.
“So... how you feeling now that the new club’s open?”
Kase didn’t even look up. “Tired. But proud.”
I smiled. “It looked crazy packed that night. You pulled it off.”
“Yeah,” he muttered, reaching for another cookie. “Had to.”
“Which one do you like more?” I asked, keeping my tone light. “Voltage or Knights?”
That made him pause. He took a slow bite, chewing while his eyes drifted across the flyers on his desk.
“Voltage was built ‘cause my father felt guilty about being a shitty parent. He threw money at me like that would fix years of not showin’ up. So yeah, it’s flashy, but it ain’t really mine.”
I tilted my head, listening.
“But Knights ? That’s different. That’s mine for real. No help, no backing, no father-of-the-year credit. Just me and my grind. I built that shit from scratch.” He leaned back in his chair, voice steady but sharp. “That’s the one I respect. That’s the one that makes me feel like a man.”
I didn’t say anything right away. There was a weight to his words, like they’d been buried a while.
“So… all this effort to keep up the image,” I said, picking at my cuticle. “That’s just about the clubs?”
He raised an eyebrow. “What you mean, Wheels?”
“I mean... is that why you act different around certain people? Like me?”
He didn’t dodge it. The pill wouldn’t let him.
“You scare me,” he said plainly. “’Cause you see past all the bullshit. Most girls? They want the idea of me. The player. The boss. The name. But you? You see the cracks.”
My breath caught.
“And I don’t know what to do with that,” he admitted. “So I run my mouth. I clown you. I keep you at arm’s length, ‘cause if I didn’t? I’d fold.”
“Fold how?”
He looked me dead in the face. “Fold into you.”
The silence between us turned heavy. I felt it everywhere in my chest, in my throat, in the sudden stillness of the room.
Kase rubbed the back of his neck and muttered, “I wasn’t even supposed to say all that.”
But he did.
And now… I couldn’t unhear it.
Kase let out a slow breath and rubbed his temple like he hadn’t meant to say any of that out loud. But the pill had him wide open, and I wasn’t about to stop him.
“I used to think feelings were a weakness,” he muttered, eyes still on the desk. “My mom wore hers on her sleeve, and my pops used to clown her for it. So I learned real early, don’t let people know what moves you. Don’t let ‘em see you care too much. That’s how they break you.”
I stayed quiet, heart twisting.
“But every time you look at me like I matter,” he continued, voice lower now, “it’s like I forget that rule.”
That hit me square in the chest.
“I’ve messed with a lotta women,” he added. “Some fine, some fake, some fun. But none of them ever made me feel... guilty.”
My eyes widen. “Guilty?”
He nodded slowly. “Yeah. Like I’m wasting something that could actually be real,” he paused, then continued. “I wanted to kiss you the night of my grand opening.”
Just as the words hung in the air like they needed time to settle, his phone started buzzing on the desk, vibrating hard against the wood. He glanced down. The name lit up in bold letters: “Dad.”
Kase cursed under his breath but didn’t answer it. I was hoping he wouldn’t shut down and stop telling me the truth, but then his assistant knocked and came through the door, interrupting our moment.
“Kase, your father said he tried calling your cell. He’s about to call you again.”
Just like that, his whole body shifted. The softness vanished like it was never there. That familiar wall snapped back into place, brick by brick. He stood up, grabbing his phone off the desk as it buzzed.
“Yeah?” he answered, voice clipped. “I’m in the office. What you need?”
Pause.
“Now?”
He turned, giving me a quick glance over his shoulder. “Yeah… alright.”
He ended the call, and the silence that followed was stiff, thick like fog.
“I should go,” I said, rising to my feet, even though my chest was tight.
“Yeah,” he murmured. “Probably best.”
It stung, but I didn’t let it show. Wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.
“Thanks for the talk,” I said, and walked past him without looking back.
I stepped out the club and let the air hit me like a slap.
The wind whipped at my hoodie, the night stretching out in front of me.
But I wasn’t mad. Honestly, the pill worked.
Kase had told me everything I needed to know.
The way he looked at me. The way he unraveled.
The confessions that slipped out between bites of cookie were raw, ugly, and unfiltered truth.
And all of it was real. No games. No ego.
Just the man behind the performance. I reached into my bag and felt for the tiny vial still tucked safely inside, Mirror Me.
Honestly, I felt like I wouldn’t need it since I knew the truth about how Kase felt.