When the meeting ended, I gathered my things slowly, tucking my notebook into my bag. People filed out in clusters around me, their conversations fading as they dispersed into the hallway.
I was hoping Cassian would leave first. That he'd slip out with the crowd and spare us both the awkwardness of a direct interaction.
But when I looked up, he was standing by the door.
Waiting.
Our eyes met, and my heart did something painful in my chest. I ignored it.
"Can we talk?" he asked.
His voice. God, his voice. It sounded exactly the same—the voice that used to read me medical journals in bed because he knew it helped me fall asleep.
"Sure."
We found an empty office down the hall, a small space cluttered with filing cabinets and outdated equipment. Cassian closed the door behind us, then seemed to realize how that might look and opened it again, leaving it halfway ajar.
The gesture was so achingly familiar. He'd always been conscious of appearances, careful not to put either of us in compromising positions.
"I didn't know you were coming here," he said.
"I didn't know you were still here."
"Yeah, well." He shoved his hands in his coat pockets, a nervous habit I recognized. "I am."
I studied him while he studied the floor. Up close, the changes were more obvious. There were fine lines at the corners of his eyes that hadn't been there before. And he had a small and faded scar on his jaw that I didn't recognize.
"This doesn't have to be complicated," I said finally, my voice steady. A minor miracle I thought. "We're colleagues now. We can handle that."
"Right. Professionally."
"The protocol is important. I'm not going to let..." I gestured vaguely between us, searching for words that wouldn't cut too deep. "Whatever this is interfering with the work."
"Neither am I."
"Good."
He nodded. "Good."
Neither of us moved.
The office was too small and I could smell him from where I was standing, cedar and something warm underneath, a scent that hadn't changed in five years. My body remembered it before my mind could catch up, muscles loosening in response to a familiarity I hadn't consented to.
I hated that he still had that effect on me.
"Cal," he said, and the sound of my nickname in his mouth made my heart twist behind my ribs.
I lifted my chin and met his gaze directly. "We should keep this professional. First names might blur those lines."
Something flickered across his face. Was it pain? Disappointment? It was gone before I could be sure.
"Dr. Karras, then," he said. His voice had cooled, the warmth retreating behind a wall I recognized because I'd built the same one. "I'll see you Thursday."
He moved toward the door, then paused with his hand on the frame. For a moment, I thought he might say something else. Something real to acknowledge the weight of everything standing between us.
But Cassian had always been better at silence than I gave him credit for.
He nodded once and left.
