Page 17 of One of Those Amnesia Stories

Hearing her name in his mouth sent a hot twist through my stomach. I pressed my tongue against the back of my teeth, trying to swallow down the bitterness rising in my throat.

“And then you had to celebrate,” I said, my voice tightening around each word. “With her.”

His eyes narrowed, his brows drawing together. “It was with the team, Alessia.” His voice carried a note of irritation now. “Not just her.”

My jaw clenched.

The distinction did nothing to ease the ache spreading through my chest. If anything, it made it worse. He was correcting the details when I was standing there trying to understand how he could have gone hours without thinking of me.

“You couldn’t even pick up your phone?” My voice wavered, and I hated that he could hear it. “I called you. Again and again.” I swallowed, my throat burning. “You couldn’t send me one text?”

“My phone’s dead—” He stopped, then patted down his trousers, checking one pocket before moving to the other. “Where’s my phone?” He checked them again, quicker now, and glanced around the room until his gaze landed on the chaise where his jacket lay crumpled across the cushion.

He crossed the room and snatched up his jacket. A quick search of the pocket turned up his phone. He pressed the power button.

The screen remained black.

“It’s dead.” He turned the phone toward me, as though that settled the matter.

It didn’t.

There had been plenty of ways to reach me if he’d truly wanted to.

I shook my head, a hollow laugh escaping before I could swallow it back. “I reminded you every day this week. Every single day.” The words came faster now, pushed out by everything I’d been swallowing down. “You looked me in the eye and promised you would be there. You promised.” My chest rose unevenly. “And you weren’t. You were with her.”

His jaw flexed. “I was with the team,” he said, each word clipped with growing impatience.

I stepped closer, refusing to let him hide behind the same excuse. “You couldn’t leave? You couldn’t tear yourself away for one evening? You had to miss the party I spent weeks planning?” I scoffed. “Liam left.”

“Liam had a prior commitment.”

“And you didn’t?” I challenged. “You had no reason to leave? Nothing waiting for you at home?”

His mouth tightened, the last of his patience slipping away. “For the last time, Alessia, I had to stay.” Frustration roughened his voice. “That team has bled for me. They stayed through every loss, every time things fell apart. They finally had a win worth celebrating, and they wanted me there. They deserved to have me there.”

And I didn’t?

The question burned beneath my tongue, too humiliating to ask.

“I’m sorry I forgot your little party, okay?” The apology came without warmth. “We can do another one whenever you want. Tomorrow. Next week. Pick a date and I’ll show up.” His eyes held mine. “But this was important.”

More important than me.

The thought cut deeper than his words, and I had to blink against the sudden sting in my eyes.

He could replace the party. Pick another date. Show up next time. But he couldn’t erase what his choice had told me about where I stood in his life.

Cassian didn’t wait for an answer. He turned away, walked into the closet, gathered a change of clothes, and disappeared into the bathroom.

The lock clicked behind him.

Then the shower came on.

I stayed where he had left me, staring at the bathroom door while the water rushed against the tile. The sound filled the bedroom, swallowing the uneven breaths I couldn’t seem to control.

He had ended the conversation because he was finished with it. He didn’t ask whether I was okay. Didn’t turn around when my voice broke. Didn’t give me even a second to gather myself after everything he’d said.

He simply walked away.