“No,” he said simply.“I sawyou,”
The words stopped me like a blow.I stood frozen, chest heaving, my heart ricocheting painfully in my ribs.
He closed the distance between us, slow but sure, until the heat of him cut through the bitter cold.“I didn’t see what he made you believe.I didn’t see whatshewanted everyone to see.”His gaze softened just enough to break something inside me.“I sawyou.”
My breath came uneven, shallow.“Don’t.”My whisper cracked on the wind.“Don’t make me believe you when everything else has been a lie.”
“You think this…” He gestured between us, his hand trembling now, just barely.“…isn’t real?You thinkyou’rethe mistake in all this?”His voice dropped lower, raw and rough around the edges.“Cassidy Morgan, I swear to God, I have never,not once, looked at you and seen anything but someone worth the goddamn world.”
I shook my head, choking on tears.“I feel like I’m disappearing, Brody.”
He stepped into my space, so close I could feel the warmth of his breath against my temple, but he didn’t touch me.Not yet.“Then hold on to me,” he murmured, his voice steadier than mine.“I won’t let you disappear.”
The dam inside me shattered.Any ounce of control I had previously disappeared.I collapsed into him before I could think better of it, burying my face against his chest.The steady drum of his heartbeat anchored me while the rest of me fell apart.His arms came around me instantly, strong and sure, one hand cradling the back of my neck like he could hold me together when everything else was unravelling.
“You’re okay,” he whispered against my hair, over and over, as if he said it enough times, maybe I’d believe him.
But I wasn’t okay.
I was choking on memories, every promise Andrew had made, every soft'I love you', every time he’d sworn there was no one else.And now Victoria’s calculating, knowing eyes haunted me.Her bump.Their son’s face.A whole life he’d kept from me while carving pieces out of mine in secret.
Brody pulled back just enough to see me, brushing his thumb across the wet track of a tear on my cheek.His voice was low, steady, and deliberate.“He doesn’t get to take this from you, Cass.Not who you are.Not what you deserve.”
Something about the way he said it, like it wasn’t up for debate, like it was fact, absolute and unshakable, cracked me open all over again.
And then Chase’s voice cut through the night, low but careful.“Brody.”
We both turned to see him standing a few feet away, his hands shoved deep into his jacket pockets, his expression unreadable but his eyes sharp with quiet understanding.
“My truck’s right there,” he said softly, nodding toward the street.“I’ll take her home.You should stay with Adam, help him close out the night.We’ll handle the rest later.”
Brody hesitated, his hand still on my arm, his thumb brushing over my sleeve like he couldn’t quite bring himself to let go.His jaw clenched, like there was something more he wanted to say, something he couldn’t.
“Brody,” Chase said again, gentler this time.
Finally, Brody exhaled, a rough, uneven sound, and gave a single reluctant nod.His gaze held mine for a long moment, unspoken words passing between us, before he stepped back and let Chase guide me toward the truck.
The cab was warm, the low hum of the heater filling the silence.I stared out the window, watching streetlights smear into blurry streaks of gold, my reflection pale and hollow in the glass.My chest felt too tight, like there wasn’t enough air.
Chase didn’t speak at first, and when he did, his voice was quiet, almost careful.
“You know,” he said after a long pause, “Mom’s threatening to go full scorched earth on Victoria.Told Dad she’d wait until after the baby’s born, but…” He let out a low chuckle.“You know, Mom.”
I almost laughed.Almost.But the sound caught somewhere in my throat, tangled up with everything else that hurt too much.
Chase glanced at me, his expression softening when he saw I wasn’t biting.“We’ve got you, Cass,” he said simply.“You don’t have to fight this alone.Not anymore.”
I wanted to believe him.I wanted to let those words sink in and take root.But all I could feel was the weight of every stare in the pub, every whisper ofhomewreckerandwhoreclawing at my skin.I couldn’t make myself believe it, not when everything inside me felt fractured beyond repair.
I pressed my forehead to the cool glass, closing my eyes.
If I could just make it to Christmas, maybe then I could come home and regroup.Maybe then I could breathe.Maybe then I could remember who I was before all of this.
Chapter 22
I woke to the low murmur of voices downstairs, the kind of half-whispers people used when they didn’t want you to hear but couldn’t stop talking anyway.
I lay still for a moment, the weight of last night pressing down on me like a stone.My chest felt bruised, my head thick with the kind of exhaustion that didn’t come from lack of sleep but from holding yourself together long past the point of breaking.
