“You did it.”
She looked at him—really looked at him for the first time in days—and felt something crack open in her chest. Gratitude. Relief. And underneath it all,the terrifying awareness that he’d somehow known she was in trouble. He’d felt it. Through their connection. And he’d come running.
“How did you?—”
“I felt it,” he said, confirming what she already knew. “The surge. The fear. I was halfway here before I realized I was moving.” He released her hands, stepped back. The distance felt deliberate. “You should… probably deal with the aftermath.”
Right. The aftermath. The dozen coworkers who’d just watched her become a human light show. The boss who’d offered her a promotion three hours ago.
The career she’d just immolated more thoroughly than Derek’s couch.
“Medical leave.”
Cassie sat in her boss’s office, still shaky, still not entirely sure she wasn’t going to float something accidentally. Her boss sat behind his desk with the expression of a man who’d just seen something he couldn’t explain and desperately wanted to pretend hadn’t happened.
“Just until you’re… feeling better.” He wouldn’t look at her. “We’ll hold the position. The promotion. Everything will be waiting when you’re… recovered.”
“I’m not sick.”
“Cassie.” His voice was gentle in a way that made her want to scream. “Something happened in that meeting. I don’t know what. I don’twantto know what. But clearly you’re dealing with some kind of… condition. And we want to support you. From a distance. A very safe distance.”
Condition.Like she had a particularly aggressive case of the flu instead of uncontrolled magical powers.
“How long?”
“Let’s start with two weeks. We’ll reassess.”
Two weeks. Two weeks of sitting at home, thinking about everything she’d ruined. Two weeks of the walls changing color and Luna judging her and Liam being politely distant while she fell apart.
“Fine,” she said, because what else was there to say?
She gathered her things—the sad little box of desk items they’d already packed for her, which was a special kind of humiliation—and walked to the elevator.
Dana was waiting by the water cooler. Of course she was.
“Feeling better?” Her smile was poison wrapped in politeness. “That was quite a display. Very… theatrical.”
Cassie kept walking.
“I’m sure the promotion will still be there whenyou get back!” Dana called after her. “Assuming you get back. Mental health issues can be so unpredictable.”
The elevator doors closed on Dana’s smug face.
Cassie didn’t cry. Not yet. She held it together through the lobby, through the parking lot, all the way to her car where Liam was waiting.
He’d driven her. She’d forgotten that. He’d driven her to work this morning because she’d been too keyed up to focus, and he’d been worried about her, even though they weren’t speaking.
She got in the passenger seat.
He didn’t say anything. Just started the car and pulled out of the lot.
They made it three blocks before she broke.
It started as a hiccup. Then a gasp. Then the kind of ugly, heaving sobs that she hadn’t allowed herself since the divorce. Everything she’d been holding—the fear, the humiliation, the crushing realization that she’d just destroyed her career in front of everyone—came pouring out in a flood of tears and snot and sounds that weren’t quite words.
Liam pulled over. Parked. Let her cry.
When she finally wound down to shaky breaths and the occasional hiccup, he spoke.
