Chapter 13 – Drew
The sun had begun to dip below the horizon when I stepped inside and quietly shut the door behind me. I thought Cassandra would be sleeping—knocked out from whatever virus had her body staging a rebellion. But my eyes landed on her immediately.
She was curled up in the wide windowsill, one knee tucked under her, an arm resting on the cool glass.
The fading light painted her skin in shades of amber and shadow.
She looked way better than yesterday—no more of that sickly pallor that had twisted my gut into knots—but she was still lost somewhere I couldn’t reach.
I wanted to ask her what was wrong. Wanted to pry open whatever vault she’d locked herself inside. But I knew better. She’d deny it. Build another wall. Add another lock.
So, I cleared my throat instead.
Her head turned slightly, enough for me to catch the profile of her face, the curve of her jaw, the way her lips pressed together like she was holding back words that would burn us both.
“When did you get in?” she asked, her voice soft, almost fragile. It didn’t suit her.
I walked toward her, each step measured, my body still wound tight from a day of watching Rafael slowly unravel without her. “Just now.”
I settled down on the ledge next to her with a sigh, close enough that our thighs nearly touched.
The windowsill wasn’t made for two people, but I didn’t care.
I needed to be near her. Needed to feel her warmth, her presence, proof that she was still here and not slipping through my fingers like smoke.
The urge to kiss her hit me like a freight train.
My eyes dropped to her lips—soft, slightly parted—and I wanted to taste them, wanted to lose myself in her until neither of us could think straight.
But she’d been sick. Vulnerable. And despite every instinct screaming at me to take what I wanted, I couldn’t do that to her.
So I leaned in and pressed a kiss to her forehead instead.
It was supposed to be simple. Chaste. A gesture of comfort, nothing more.
But the moment my lips touched her skin, I felt her breath hitch. Heard the little gasp escape her mouth. And it nearly broke my resolve.
I pulled back just enough to look at her, my hand finding hers almost without permission. My fingers laced through hers, holding on like she might disappear if I let go.
“How are you feeling?” I asked, my voice rougher than I intended.
I knew she’d never stop my advances. She’d proven that enough times. But I didn’t want to force myself on her. Didn’t want to be that man who took advantage when she was already fragile.
Cassandra leaned back against the wall, her eyes still fixed on the window, on the city lights beginning to flicker to life beyond the glass. “Much better,” she said.
But her tone said otherwise. It was hollow. Distant. Like she was reading lines from a script she didn’t believe in.
I studied her profile—the sharp line of her jaw, the way her hair fell across her shoulder, the tension that never quite left her body even when she was trying to relax.
“Rafael looked messed up today,” I said, testing the waters. “Lost. Impeccably disturbed.”
Her lips twitched, but it wasn’t a smile. “Did he?”
“The whole damn office felt off without you.” I paused, watching her reaction. “It felt like he was about to burn the place down because he doesn’t know how to move through his schedule without you.”
She let out a dry chuckle, but still didn’t look at me. “I doubt that. Rafael’s smart enough to thrive without me.” Her voice dropped, something bitter creeping in. “I don’t even know why he keeps me around.”
The words hit me harder than they should have. Because I’d seen how Rafael looked at her. Trusted her. Relied on her in ways he didn’t rely on anyone else. And yet here she was, questioning her own worth like she was disposable.
Like she was nothing.
I wanted to tell her she was wrong. That Rafael would be lost without her. That I would be lost without her. But the words stuck in my throat, tangled up with everything else I couldn’t say.
“Father Vincent,” I said instead, shifting gears. “What’d he tell you??”
Her shoulders tensed. Just slightly. But I caught it.
“Same old.” she said quietly, “Nothing I didn’t already know.”
I kept my face neutral, even though my pulse kicked up. “And that’s all?”
She finally turned to look at me, her brown eyes searching mine for something I couldn’t name. “Yeah, I guess. It was nice to remember a time when things were simpler.”
“Tell me about those days,” I said, my thumb brushing over her knuckles. “The orphanage. What was it like?”
Her expression softened, just a fraction.
“Chaotic. Father Vincent tried his best, but Hailey and I were hell on wheels.” A real smile ghosted across her lips.
“We used to sneak into the kitchen after lights out, steal cookies, leave crumbs everywhere just to watch him lose his mind the next morning.”
“Sounds like torture for the poor bastard.”
“It was.” Her smile widened. “But he never gave up on us. Even when we probably deserved it.”
I could picture it—a younger Cassandra, all sharp edges and wild energy, refusing to be tamed. It made something in my chest ache.
“You and Hailey,” I said. “You’re close.”
“She’s the only family I’ve ever had.” Her voice dropped again, the warmth fading. “We shared everything. Cheap bras. Whispered heartbreaks. First paycheck. First….” She trailed off, but I knew what she meant.
The thought of her with someone else—someone before me—shouldn’t have bothered me. But it did. It burned like acid in my veins.
“Father Vincent must’ve been relieved when you two finally left,” I said, trying to lighten the mood.
“Probably.” She looked out the window again, her reflection ghostly in the glass. “But I think he missed us, too. We were problem children, but we were his.”
Silence settled between us, heavy and uncomfortable. I watched her face, the way her expression shifted from fond to melancholic, like she was mourning something she couldn’t get back.
Then, without warning, her smile vanished completely. Her eyes glazed over, lost in some distant memory or thought. When she spoke, her voice was barely above a whisper, like the words were dragging themselves out of her against her will.
“Maybe my life would have been different if I had a family.”
The pain in those words—raw, unfiltered—hit me like a punch to the gut.
I tightened my grip on her hand. “Cassandra—”
“I don’t mean Hailey,” she continued, still staring out the window. “She’s everything. But I mean…a real family. Parents. A name that meant something. Roots.”
I pulled her closer, wrapped my arm around her shoulders, and let her lean into me. Her head rested against my chest, her body fitting against mine like it was made for this.
“You have me,” I said quietly, my lips brushing the top of her head. “You know that, right?”
She didn’t answer. Just pressed closer, her fingers curling into my shirt like she was holding on for dear life.
And I held her back, even though every instinct I had was screaming at me that this was a mistake. That getting attached to her would destroy me. That she was hiding something dangerous, something that could blow up in both our faces.
But I couldn’t let go.
Not yet.
Maybe not ever.
The sun had fully set now, the city lights glowing beyond the window, casting long shadows across the room. We sat there in silence, tangled together, neither of us willing to break the moment.