“Stop.” Her voice is low, and she’s pressing her palms against her temples. “Just stop. You’re confusing me, and I can’t… I won’t let you mess with my head again.”
We stare at each other across the small living room.
“I can’t do this,” she says finally, her voice small and tired. “I just can’t.”
She turns and walks toward the stairs, leaving me alone with the bitter taste of old wounds torn open fresh.
No, Not Tonight
Cassidy
Iwake up to the sound of Axel’s excited whisper-shouting from downstairs.
“It’s Christmas Eve! It’s Christmas Eve!”
I pull the pillow over my head, trying to block out the sound of Ethan’s low rumble responding to him, but it’s no use. Even through the floorboards, I can hear the warmth in Ethan’s voice as he talks to Axel about their plans for the day.
Cookie decorating. Christmas Eve traditions. Making magic happen for a little boy who’s never had a real Christmas.
And here I am, hiding upstairs like a coward.
Your sister drugged me.Then raped me.
The words have been circling in my head for hours, refusing to let me sleep. Part of me wants to dismiss them as a desperate lie, but there’s a sick feeling in my stomach that won’t go away. Because deep down, I know Britney was capable of almost anything when she wanted something.
And she’d always wanted what was mine.
I force myself to sit up, rubbing my swollen eyes. Through the thin walls, I can hear Ethan explaining something, his voice patient and gentle.
God, what if I was wrong? What if I’ve spent eight years hating the man I loved over a lie?
Axel’s laughter floats up from the kitchen, and I close my eyes against the sound. This little boy deserves better than two adults who can’t get their shit together. He deserves a family who wants him and can provide the love and stability he’s never had.
He deserves parents who fight for him instead of with each other, and I want to be that for him. I want to be his family.
And that means I have to stop running.
My one-bedroom apartment in Atlanta would need to go. I’d need at least two bedrooms now, perhaps a place with a backyard, preferably in a good school zone.
I could adjust my hours at work, taking the morning shift so I could be home when school lets out. He’d need new clothes, a proper winter coat, and school supplies. All the things Britney clearly never prioritized.
Tuesday evening story time at the library would be perfect for him. Many of those children have been through trauma too, and Miss Joan is brilliant with the quiet ones. I’ve watched her coax smiles from the most withdrawn kids week after week.
My mind races through logistics. I could add him to my health insurance and get him therapy appointments. The spare room at the library could become his homework spot on the days I couldn’t leave early.
It wouldn’t be easy, but I could do this. I could be what Axel needs. And maybe he could be what I need too.
With renewed purpose, I force myself downstairs, following the sounds of laughter and the sweet smell of vanilla. In the kitchen, I find Ethan and Axel surrounded by cooling racks full of sugar cookies, flour dusting every surface.
“Ms. Cassidy!” Axel’s face lights up when he sees me. “Look what we made! Mr. Ethan said you might want to help decorate them.”
Ethan glances up from where he’s mixing what looks like homemade frosting, his expression neutral. There are dark circles under his eyes that match mine, and I wonder if he slept at all after our fight.
“I found some food coloring in the back of a cabinet,” he says quietly. “And there’s sprinkles.”
The softness of his tone is a sudden pressure on my throat. After everything I said to him last night, he’s still trying to make Christmas special for Axel.
“That sounds perfect.” I settle at the small table where dozens of star and tree-shaped cookies are laid out on parchment paper.
