“Um,” I start before choking on a cough. I didn’t realize how dry my throat was until I tried talking.
“Here,” the man says, handing me a glass of water that must have been sitting on a nearby table. “I’m sure you’re thirsty. Don’t drink too fast, or you might make yourself sick.”
I nod and reach for the glass with a trembling hand. Our gazes meet, and for one brief moment, I see into the depths of this man’s soul. He has a pain hidden deep in his heart that resonates with mine.
That gives me the courage to wrap my hand around the glass and take it from him. Heeding his advice, I sip the water, though it takes a lot of restraint not to gulp the whole thing down.
“I’m Cassian,” he says, giving me what I think is supposed to be a smile. It’s clear he hasn’t had a reason to smile in a long time, which makes my chest ache.
“Blakely,” I say between sips.
“Blakely,” he repeats. “Beautiful.”
My eyes widen at his words. Me? Beautiful? No, just my name.Calm down, girl, I tell myself.
“Now you’ve had some water, would you like to eat a proper meal or take a hot shower?”
“Shower,” I blurt. At the same time, my stomach growls embarrassingly loud, and I place a hand over my tummy in an attempt to silence the noise.
Instead of chastising me or telling me I could go without a few more meals like my aunt used to, Cassian chuckles and holds out his hand for me to take. “You go shower up, and I’ll set the table. I have some clean clothes of mine folded up on the sink counter. You’re welcome to wear those if they’d be more comfortable than what you have on.”
I still don’t know what to do with this man’s kindness, but part of me wants to trust him. I’ve been burned before, especially by my aunt and uncle, but Cassian… he’s different. Tentative hope blooms in my chest, though I try to squash it. I’ve never been afforded luxuries like hope and trust.
Even so, I place my hand in his much larger one. His calloused skin speaks to the hours of labor he’s put into the construction project, not to mention those bulging muscles. When Cassian pulls me up and off the couch, I sway toward him, wanting to soak up his cedarwood and spice scent.
“Steady,” he murmurs, one hand resting on my hip to hold me gently in place.
That one touch sends sparks up and down my spine, making me shiver at the unexpected wave of pleasure rolling through my body.
“Sorry,” Cassian immediately says, dropping his hand as if I burned him. “I didn’t mean to crowd your space or touch you without your permission.”
I tilt my head at this confounding man. Why isn’t he demanding an apology for trespassing on what is presumably his land? Why didn’t he yell at me or call the cops? Why is he treating me with such tenderness? I don’t think Cassian is usually this soft-spoken, which means he’s trying to make himself less intimidating.
“It’s okay,” I reply, trying to smile at him. Mine is about as rusty as his, though it feels good to have a reason to use it. “Um, a shower would be great,” I say, feeling more self-conscious of my ripped clothes and unholy scent from being in the wilderness for three days. God, I’m pathetic.
“Down the hall and to the left,” Cassian says, pointing to the hallway. “I’ll have everything ready for dinner when you get out.”
I nod, half convinced this is all a dream and I’ll wake up on the concrete floor, wrapped in a tarp and a dirty sheet.
Once in the shower, my muscles finally relax for what feels like the first time in years. Heck, that might just be the truth. Again, pathetic. The hot water stings my fresh wounds, but I don’t mind. It’s nothing I’m not used to. I notice some areas havebeen wrapped in a bandage or covered with a gauze pad, and I do my best to avoid those areas, so the bandages stay on.
My face heats as I think about Cassian tending to the cuts and scrapes on my arms and legs, and a knot twists up my insides when I realize he must have seen a collection of other scars he wasn’t expecting. No matter. Nothing I can do about it now except move forward and accept whatever kindness this stranger is offering.
After taking far too long under the hot stream of water, I finally step out and carefully pat myself dry. My muscles may be more relaxed now than they were before, but that doesn’t mean the soreness isn’t real. I bite back a groan as I bend and dry off my feet, wincing when I see the blisters on my heels and one on my left big toe. I’m disgusting and broken, physically and mentally.
My dark, depressing thoughts scatter when the scent of savory potato soup floats through the air. I breathe in, letting it fill my lungs, even as my stomach growls louder than before.
I quickly put on the sweatpants and sweatshirt Cassian left folded on the counter, secretly loving that I’ll smell like him, at least for a bit. I have to roll the waist of the sweatpants a few times to get them to fit, and I feel like I’m swimming in his Army Ranger sweatshirt, but I love it.
Opening the bathroom door a crack, I peek out and survey my surroundings. When I don’t see Cassian, I head to the living room. There he is, pacing from one side of the room all the way into the kitchen and back.
My stomach drops when I realize he must be annoyed with me. Of course he is. I'm an unannounced house guest with no food, no clothing, and nothing to offer. What a giant inconvenience.
Cassian stops abruptly, turning to look at me. I freeze when our eyes lock. He doesn’t look annoyed or frustrated. He looks…relieved? Could he even behappyto see me? I can’t remember the last time someone was genuinely happy because I walked into a room.
“Soup is served,” he announces, pulling out one of two chairs at his small kitchen table.
I sit in front of a steaming hot bowl of bacon potato soup topped with cheese. I want to slurp the whole thing down and empty the pot on the stove, but I don’t want to be rude. Plus, even though I haven’t had a proper meal in days, I still hear my aunt's voice echoing in my head.You don’t need dinner tonight. Look at how flabby your arms are getting.
