Chapter Three - Going home with the wrong man… and feeling right.
1287 Words
They decide to discharge me in the afternoon.
The nurse explains everything slowly, using gentle hands and softer words, but I still feel like I’m underwater. Like everything is happening a second before I can grasp it.
I keep stealing glances at Cassian.
He stands in the corner with his hands in his pockets, shoulders tense, jaw tight. Silent. Watching. A sentry.
He has the kind of presence that fills the room without trying.
Asher hovers near the doorway, pacing small circles, muttering into his phone then hanging up before anyone answers.
Two boys.
One calm as a stormcloud before lightning.
One coming apart at the seams.
And I’m supposed to believe one of them is my boyfriend.
I look at Cassian again.
My chest warms.
Soft.
Unfamiliar.
Dangerously comforting.
I don’t remember him.
But I want to.
⸻
“Cassian will take you home.”
The nurse says it like a medical order, scribbling something on a clipboard.
Asher’s head snaps up. “What? Why him? She should be with me—”
“You told me he was her boyfriend,” the nurse cuts in, sharp.
Asher’s mouth opens and closes like a fish.
Cassian’s jaw hardens.
I stare down at my hands, trembling slightly.
“I want…” I hesitate. “I want to go home. But I don’t know where that is.”
Cassian steps forward immediately. “I’ll take you.”
Those three small words slam straight through my chest.
I nod before thinking. “Okay.”
Asher’s face falls like I kicked him.
“Sadie,” he says softly, “I can take you too. Or— or instead. Whatever you want.”
Something about the desperation in his eyes bothers me.
I shake my head slowly. “I think I’m more comfortable with Cassian.”
Cassian looks like he stopped breathing.
Asher looks like he might throw up.
“Right,” Asher mutters tightly. “Of course. Sure. Fine.”
Cassian steps closer—close enough that I can feel the warmth radiating off him.
He lowers his voice. “I’ll go slow. I won’t let you fall.”
I shiver.
Not from fear.
From something else entirely.
⸻
Touching Cassian feels… familiar.
When he slides his arm carefully around my waist to help me onto my feet, something in me reacts instantly.
My body leans into him without permission.
My fingers curl in his hoodie.
My cheek brushes his shoulder.
Warm.
Safe.
Right.
His breath catches.
His hand tightens very slightly—so slightly I wouldn’t have noticed if I wasn’t pressed against him.
He’s trembling too.
“Sorry,” I whisper, embarrassed.
“For what?” he murmurs.
“Clinging.”
He exhales shakily. “You can cling to me.”
I blush hard.
Asher, watching from behind, looks like he’s swallowing down pure rage.
⸻
Leaving the hospital is a blur.
Everything is too bright. Too loud. Too confusing.
Cassian holds me steady with both hands, guiding me to a dark truck parked at the curb.
He opens the passenger door slowly, careful not to jostle me.
When I wince climbing in, he freezes.
“Are you okay?”
“I think so.”
He doesn’t move until he’s sure.
He buckles my seatbelt for me when my hands shake too much.
His fingers brush my collarbone—barely—and heat rushes down my spine so fast it steals my breath.
He pulls back instantly, jaw tight.
Asher opens the back door aggressively and throws in my hospital bag harder than necessary.
“Call me,” he tells Cassian. “Updates. Regularly.”
Cassian doesn’t answer.
Asher leans into the open door, looking at me with eyes too soft for his voice.
“Sadie… I’m here for you. Okay? If you need anything.”
I nod politely, unsure what else to do.
Then Cassian shuts my door gently and comes around to the driver’s side.
Asher steps in front of him, grabbing his arm.
Their voices drop to whispers.
I can’t hear all of it, but I catch pieces.
“Don’t let her get attached.”
Cassian’s response is low and lethal:
“She already did.”
My heart skips.
Asher and Cassian stare each other down like they’ve been doing this for years — fighting over something I can’t remember.
But I can feel the tension like a physical thing.
Finally Cassian shakes him off and climbs in.
We pull away.
Asher stands in the parking lot, fists curled, expression torn between guilt and fury.
Watching me leave with another man.
A man he asked to lie.
⸻
Cassian drives in silence.
Not awkward silence.
Not forced silence.
Soft silence.
Thick silence.
Silence that wraps around us like a blanket.
I study him from the passenger seat, unable to look away.
His profile is sharp.
His hands grip the wheel tightly.
His jaw works like he’s biting back emotions.
“You don’t talk much,” I say softly.
“No,” he agrees.
“Were we always like this? Quiet?”
He hesitates.
Then his voice drops soft and honest:
“You talked. I listened.”
My chest tightens painfully.
“I feel like I’m missing something important,” I whisper.
His fingers tighten on the wheel.
“You are,” he murmurs. “But you’re not alone.”
My throat goes tight.
“Thank you,” I whisper.
He swallows like those two words hurt him.
“You don’t have to thank me,” he says. “I’m yours.”
The words hit both of us at the same time.
He stiffens.
I go breathless.
He corrects himself quickly. Voice sharp. Controlled.
“I mean—your… boyfriend. I’m supposed to take care of you.”
He’s lying.
Or hiding something.
I feel it.
A flicker of memory hits.
A hallway.
A fight.
One boy yelling.
One boy bleeding.
My name screamed between them.
I gasp softly.
Cassian’s head whips toward me. “Sadie?”
“I…” I shake my head. “I saw something. But it’s gone.”
He goes still.
Frozen.
And for the first time, pure fear flashes across his features.
Not fear of the accident.
Fear of my memory returning.
⸻
When we get to his apartment… he won’t touch me.
Not in a cold way.
In a terrified way.
He unlocks the door, steps inside, and stands there like he doesn’t know if he’s allowed to breathe near me.
“Come in,” he says quietly.
But he doesn’t help me.
He doesn’t reach.
He keeps his hands shoved deep in his pockets like touching me would be… dangerous.
I step inside slowly.
His apartment smells like cedar and something darker. Warm. Masculine. Safe.
I take a shaky breath. “Cassian?”
He swallows.
“Yes?”
“Can you… help me sit?”
His eyes soften so fast it destroys me.
He moves instantly, hands gentle at my waist, guiding me to the couch like I’m breakable.
And when he pulls away, he looks at his hands like they’re weapons.
Like touching me might kill him.
Like touching me might make him lose the last shred of control he has.
I look up at him.
“Cassian?”
He meets my eyes.
Something breaks.
Slowly.
Quietly.
Devastatingly.
“Yes?” he whispers.
“Did I…” I hesitate. “Did I love you?”
He goes absolutely still.
Then—
His voice cracks.
Just barely.
“Yeah,” he whispers. “You did.”
His hands clench.
“And you still do. You just don’t know it yet.”
My breath catches.
I don’t know if it’s the truth.
But my body believes it.
Every heartbeat does.
- Writer
