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I lay weak and vulnerable in her arms, trembling in the fever’s grip like a babe. I am a hard man, but Cass had pierced me to my very core. She’d done that since the first day I saw her, stripping me of my armor until my true self was revealed. But instead of feeling unmanned, I just felt a sense of relief. I didn’t have to pretend with her—I really didn’t. It felt like laying down a burden, one I hadn't even notice I'd grown weary of carrying.
For the first time in my life, I wanted something more than just the path that had been chosen for me.
I wondered what had caused Cassidy's sudden change of heart. Had it really all been from that talk with Sloane? Whatever it was, I was done trying to shelter her by hiding the truth. I understood that about her now. Trust was everything with her, and I’d betrayed that in Maine. She was stronger than I—or her own father—gave her credit for, and she deserved to know the truth.
Another thing I understood about her now was her need to be of use. To care for someone, to feel needed.
“My mom was the sweetest, kindest woman, but she was strong. She loved helping people. She volunteered all over the city, organizing food drives, working at shelters—it seemed like every time we turned around she was starting up a new charity.
“It’s almost…I used to wonder if the reason she did it was to balance out all the bad. A few good acts to erase the evil ones. Maybe to dilute the taint of the blood that stained us, knowing where the money came from that put the food on our table, the clothes on our back. But mostly though, I think she did it because she liked to do it. It made her happy.”
Cass had been talking about her mother that day on in Maine, but she could have been describing herself.
I saw that now.
I suspected that while she probably always had a propensity towards helping others, it was the trauma of her mother’s death that had finally pushed her over the edge, embittering her to her father and his lifestyle.
As soon as I was able, I was going to have a long talk with her and just lay it all out on the line. I had always been single-minded when it came to the dubious nature of my work, but she was causing me to reconsider my entire outlook on life.
I wanted more.
I must have finally dozed off, because the next time I opened my eyes the sun was setting. The blinds were open, but Cassidy was nowhere to be seen.
I sat up. My side still ached, but the bandages were dry and my fever seemed to have finally broken. I actually felt a little hungry.
I swung my legs out of bed, testing my weight before slowly standing. I was still weak, but it was miles better than the way I felt the night before. With a look of disgust I peeled off my sweaty shirt, pulling a soft Henley from the drawer and putting it on.
There was singing coming from the kitchen.
I made my way slowly there on unsteady legs, and when I saw what was happening I paused in the doorway, smiling faintly.
Cassidy was standing there, cooking and singing quietly to herself. She was a terrible singer, but somehow that made it all the more adorable. For a moment, I had a glimpse of what life could be like, cooking together while our children played, safe and secure from the hazards this life brought. I hadn't even realized I wanted those things, but watching her made the hole left in my heart throb with need, the hole left by the people I'd lost and the violence of my chosen profession. I knew right then what I wanted to fill it with.
Her.
Turning to grab something off the counter behind her, she saw me and yelped.
“Sorry! Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” I laughed nervously, pressing a hand to my side when the stitches pulled. “I’m sure that looked really creepy.” I walked the last few steps to the island and sat in a somewhat controlled collapse.
"You shouldn’t be out of bed right now. How’re you feeling?” My bossy little doctor was back. She came around the side of the island, checked my forehead for fever, and pulled up the hem of my shirt to peer at the bandages. I tried not to moan when her fingers accidently brushed the skin below my ribcage.
“I, um, I feel a lot better, thanks to you," I stammered, trying to regain control of myself. "Besides, I’ve been in that bed far too long—you’re gonna think I’m milkin’ it.”
“Shall I go get you a mirror? Nobody's going to think you're milking it--you look like shit.”
“I’m gettin’ awfully tired of people telling me that.”
“Well, maybe if you took better care of yourself, they wouldn’t have to.”
I opened my mouth for another witty reply, but I stopped short, catching a glimpse of what was on the stove. “Is…is thatColcannon Soup?”
Cass blushed prettily. Surprisingly, she looked embarrassed, but all I could think was that it was the cutest thing I had ever seen.
“I um, talked with Sloane. She said your mother used to make it for you when you were sick, and she gave me the recipe.”
I was at a loss for words. It seemed like Sloane and Cassidy were getting on quite well together. I couldn't even muster up a teasing remark noting the fact that Cass had actually cooked something. My throat felt strangely tight at the unexpected gesture, and I couldn't have felt less like laughing.
“Do you think you could eat something?" she asked. "It’s ready.”
