Chapter 24
Chapter twenty-four
No. No. No. Instead of happily waking up in Cas’s arms, I wake up to the all-too-familiar feeling of my period. Fuck! I hope I haven’t bled through. This is so embarrassing. Being careful so as not to wake him, I climb off the couch and run to the downstairs bathroom to check.
I’m thankful to find I’ve not bled through yet, but I’ve definitely started.
This might explain some of my rage—and other emotions—recently.
I run to the entryway where I left my bag and begin ripping through it in search of underwear, since apparently all of mine no longer exist. I find a pair along with clean sweats, then run up to my bathroom for a shower.
At the door, I pause. It’s nerve-racking walking into my room after everything Cas told me happened.
But I quickly realize I had nothing to worry about.
Cas replaced the mattress, added new bedding—nothing even feels out of place.
The bedding looks really comfortable. There are plush pillows, a squishy gray comforter, and a furry throw blanket.
My poor period body aches for the soft embrace of a bed.
But I also never showered after my flight, so I feel even more disgusting. The only upside is smelling like Cas. I’m obsessed with the smell of his cologne. I pull my shirt against my nose, inhaling one more time before I strip it off.
When I emerge from my shower, I put on fresh clothes and head into the kitchen to see what I can make for breakfast. Cas is still passed out on the couch.
This is a sight I could get used to. Mr. Big Bad Protector sleeping peacefully like he doesn’t have a care in the world.
I drink the sight in as my heart skips a beat.
He stirs, and I turn away to start some coffee.
I busy myself at the machine, hoping my lingering gaze didn’t wake him. I have an unopened bottle of creamer I bought right before my trip, knowing coffee would be needed before my pre-scheduled grocery order arrives. I’ve made it a habit to order groceries for delivery after a trip.
A few minutes later, warm, muscular arms wrap around my waist, and Cas kisses my neck. “You left me, and I missed you.” His voice is raspy against my ear.
“I needed to shower,” I confess. “My room…it looks good. Maybe we can lay in bed all day. Thanks again.”
He kisses me again before murmuring, “You’re welcome, and we can do whatever you want to do today.”
‘I’m glad you’re here,“ I reply, leaning against him, soaking in the feeling of being wanted.
“Good,” he groans, watching as I make a latte, then hand it to him.
He takes a sip and smiles. “That’s the good stuff.”
“I can whip us up some pancakes to go with it,” I offer, making myself a latte.
“Yes, please,” Cas says, leaning against the counter. “Do you want help, or will I just be in the way?”
“It’s nothing but mix and water. You can watch, or you can turn on cartoons, and I’ll bring them to you,” I answer.
“No hard feelings if I pick cartoons?” he asks, tilting his head to study my reaction.
“Of course not. I love cartoons, and this will only take a few minutes.” I laugh, waving him off.
“I should’ve known better. You draw cartoons for a living,” he teases, strutting away before I can rebuttal.
Once the pancakes are finished, I load everything up on a wooden tray Roxy and I use for exactly this reason and deliver breakfast to the living room. He’s watching classics. “Oh, fantastic choice. I love a traditional morning cartoon sesh.”
“It was this or turtles, and to be honest, you aren’t giving off ‘green is my favorite color’ vibes.”
I snort-laugh so hard coffee nearly comes out my nose. “Rude.”
“Well, I don’t see you denying it.” His eyes twinkle full of mischief.
“I have nothing against the green little mutants. I just prefer the broody heroes and sexy villains.” I hand him a fork.
After breakfast, Cas offers to clean up while I put my grocery delivery away. Go figure—they were delivered a smidge too late for a nice breakfast. When we finish, he leans against the countertop with a shit-eating grin and says, “What’s next?”
I shrug my shoulders. I’d love to avoid the awkward I got my period conversation, but since he’s probably looking forward to sex, it’s inevitable. The longer it takes for me to answer, the longer the awkward silence stretches between us.
Cas must pick up on my uncomfortable energy. “Did I do something wrong?”
Dammit. I guess this is happening.
I clear my throat. “Well, if you’re hinting at sex, I don’t think that’s going to be possible.”
At first, he looks genuinely confused. Then understanding flashes across his face. “You don’t have to be embarrassed. I like having sex with you, but that’s not what I meant.” He reaches for me. “What do you normally do?” His hand gently rubs up and down my spine.
“Um…lay in bed and sulk. Binge something, read a book, catch up on drawing. But it’s fine—we can go out if you want.” My voice sounds foreign to me, like I’m trying to fake my way through this conversation.
He hugs me tight. “You don’t have to entertain me just because I’m here. I came to check on you. I hated not flying to Texas. I wanted to.”
His confession hits me in the feels. He wanted to fly to Texas. He was worried about me. I nod to keep from getting overly emotional. After a few deep breaths, I ask, “So, how long are you here?”
“I leave tomorrow night. But I’m down for a day of rotting. Do you have snacks, or do we need a snack run later?” He tangles his fingers in my hair, playing with the strands.
“A snack run might be necessary, but before that, you might want to consider a shower,” I tease.
“Are you saying I stink?” he feigns offense.
“I’m saying you smell like a stinky boy.” I giggle.
“Fine. I’ll shower, but then we’re getting snacks and maybe ice cream.” He lets go of me.
“Pick any shower you want. I assume you’ve found at least one since you snuck in.” I wave him off.
He laughs, shaking his head. “You’re not good at pretending to be mad about it.”
“Careful. I’m ferocious when I want to be,” I warn.
“I know. I plan to stay on your good side from here on out,” Cas says, creeping away before I can say anything else.
“You better hope I don’t shut the hot water off on you, sir,” I shout after him.
I can hear him laughing on the stairs.
While Cas showers, I make myself back at home on the couch and get sucked into cartoons.
I’m completely absorbed when I hear the doorbell.
That’s odd. Very rarely does anyone ring the doorbell—and the groceries were already delivered.
I’m not expecting anything else. I hear the water shut off as I walk to the front door.
When I open the door, there’s a middle-aged woman in jeans and a T-shirt standing on the porch. “Are you Vivienne Taylor?”
“Yes, how can—“
She cuts me off. “You’ve been served.”
She tosses a thick pile of papers at my feet then walks away.
I’ve been served? What does that even mean?
I pick up the thick papers, held together by a large binder clip and flip through them.
The front page has a very formal letter from the courts.
I wander inside, reading it over. From what I can gather, my request for an emergency protective order was denied, and I have a court date for a regular restraining order in a few weeks.
I collapse onto the sectional, pulling my knees into my chest as tears slide uncontrollably down my cheeks.
How can they deny my request? Jackson was arrested for hiding in my bushes.
Isn’t that reason enough for a restraining order?
Cas walks into the room, sees me crying, and rushes to my side.
His hair is tousled and towel-dried with small beads of water dripping from his sideburns.
He takes the papers from my hand, sits down, then pulls me onto his lap.
“What does it say?” His voice is calm and even.
“They denied my emergency protection order. It’s a court date for a regular one.” My voice comes out shaky as I dry my tears.
“I think we need to get you a lawyer. Let’s not worry about this right now. I promise everything’s going to be okay. How does ice cream for lunch sound?” Cas strokes my back in long, soothing motions.
The anxiety leaves my body. He makes me feel so safe. His confidence that everything will be alright is not just reassuring—it’s infectious. I laugh nervously. “Ice cream for lunch sounds irresponsible, but I know a cute place nearby. It’s locally owned and so good.”
“It’s settled then. Ice cream for lunch. We can take Van-dina,” he says casually.
“Van-dina?” l give him a questioning look.
He laughs. “Yeah, that’s what I named the rental car. Turns out Arty was right. The minivan is discreet. No one even notices. It’s a catchy name, right?”
“I mean, catchy isn’t the first thing that comes to mind, but I’m not judging.” I peel myself away from him and pull him to his feet. Standing on my tiptoes, I look up and give him a soft kiss. “I appreciate you making me feel better…about everything.”
“As long as you remember you’re a baddie, not a saddie.” He kisses me again.
I think I’m head over heels, obsessed with Cas Wilder. We hold hands as we walk to the rental van he parked across the street. “Were you trying to throw me off? Because if so, I never even noticed the stupid van when we pulled in.”
He smirks. “See? Van-dina is stealthy.”
We both laugh as he closes the door and walks to the driver’s side. Cas pulls away from the curb, and everything is perfect…until it isn’t.
A few houses down, I spot a figure on foot, running away from us.
I convince myself it’s just a jogger—but the closer we get, the more undeniable the truth is.
Jackson is running down the middle of the street towards what I recognize as his car.
Cas tightens his grip on the steering wheel and narrows his eyes.
“Little fucker,” he swears under his breath.
He speeds up.
“Cas, what are you doing?” I gasp.
“I’m just going to scare him,” he answers.
But I’m furious. Jackson’s never going to stop.
He threw me in the trash and checked out on our relationship.
I was never good enough for him when we were together.
So much so that he moved on before we broke up.
He was the one that posted that he was happy.
He was the one who gave up on me. It’s not fair that I’m the one whose life is currently being destroyed by Jackson. Rage rushes through me.
I hate him. I more than hate him… I loathe Jackson.
He deserves to be more than scared. If the police aren’t going to keep me safe, then maybe I need to protect myself, because obviously he’s not worried about the possibility of a restraining order—or maybe he’s just completely disregarding it all, considering my emergency request was denied.
Nonetheless, it’s clear nothing’s going to stop him from watching me.
Cas veers the van to the opposite side of the street, steering it so he won’t hit Jackson when we pass him. The anger building inside me snaps. At the last minute, I reach over and push the steering wheel. “You need to get closer than that if you want to scare him.”
It happens so fast.
I must have pushed the wheel too hard, or maybe it’s the angle I’m sitting at.
Before Cas has time to react, the driver’s side clips Jackson.
I cover my mouth and scream, watching in horror as he goes flying across the windshield.
His head collides with the hood, and his body twists unnaturally as it lands once, then bounces—like a scorpion—before sliding off the front of the van and rolling a few feet ahead of us.