Page 75 of Vegas with my Brother’s Best Friends

“I’m fine. I’m just trying to rest,” I tell him, motioning to the bed with a jerk of my head.

“Anything I can do for you?” Derek asks. “I can get you something to eat or give you a massage or something. You always liked those.”

The thought of him putting his hands on me makes my skin crawl. He used to treat me so lovingly, but it was all a lie. He didn’t care about me.

He cared about what I could do for him.

Was I useful enough for him? Did I contribute enough? Would I support his every move or hold him back from what he wanted?

He answered those questions himself, and he made a decision.

I wasn’t enough.

“I was about to take a nap,” I tell him as I tighten my grip on the door, preparing to swing it shut.

Before I can even move it a centimeter, he plants his hand on the door, preventing me from shutting it in his face.

“I’ve really been wanting to talk to you, Cassidy,” he says, his tone shifting to a serious one.

Oh, no. No, no, no.

He can’t seriously be about to do this.

Pressure builds in my skull as the mere sound of his voice gives me a headache.

“I’m not really in the talking mood right now,” I tell him.

“Just hear me out then,” Derek replies, moving even closer to crowd my space.

I stand my ground. If he comes in, it’ll be even harder to get him to leave.

“I’ve been thinking a lot over the past few months,” he says. “We had something really good, Cassidy. We were building a life together.”

I scoff. “And you dumped me and immediately got with another girl.”

Derek frowns and shakes his head. “It’s not serious. You know me…I’m not good with being alone. It was a reflex.”

I quietly grind my teeth, leaning more on my hand on the doorway as more strength drains from my body. I’m so tired, and this isn’t helping.

“Being with her showed me how good I had it with you. We were happy. We were a good fit,” Derek says.

“You questioned my ability to support myself and to support you,” I remind him. “I enjoy my job. I’m keeping it, and it does sustain me.”

“And I get that now. I misjudged things,” Derek replies. “I messed up.”

I press my knuckles against my cheek, my skin heating up as my stress level shoots upward. “I’m not doing this right now, Derek. Just stop.”

“Are you not feeling well? Are you feverish?” Derek asks, placing his hand against my forehead.

I lean away from him, my balance wavering from the sudden motion. I tighten my grip on the doorframe, trying not to stumble but failing.

“I’ve got you,” Derek says, grabbing my arms to steady me.

“I’m fine,” I tell him, trying to shrug his hands off me. If he just gives me some space, I’ll feel better.

Derek doesn’t listen and guides me backward toward the bed, entering my room without permission. I was foolish to think he wouldn’t find a reason to barge his way inside.

The door catches on the latch, leaving it cracked open.