Chapter Eight - The first truth he can’t hide.
1343 Words
The apartment is still humming with leftover tension.
Cassian stands near the window, hands in his pockets, staring out like he’s trying to calm himself down. Asher and Amelia are both gone — reluctantly, angrily, in Amelia’s case almost gleefully.
It’s just us.
And the air crackles.
I step closer to Cassian. “Can we talk?”
He tenses. “We shouldn’t.”
“But I need—”
“We shouldn’t,” he repeats softly. “Not with your memory doing this. Not with everything you’re piecing together.”
The pain in his voice hits me hard.
“Cass?” I whisper.
He doesn’t turn around.
He just shakes his head, voice low and raw:
“If you remember everything at once, it’s going to hurt.”
“Why?”
“Because the truth always hurts.”
He finally turns then.
His eyes look tired. Haunted.
Beautiful.
“Sit,” I whisper. “With me.”
Something inside him bends but doesn’t break.
He walks over slowly and sits on the couch — not touching me, but close enough that his presence warms my skin.
“Cassian,” I begin softly, “that kiss… the one I remembered—”
He inhales sharply. “Sadie—”
“Why did we kiss?”
He looks away.
Jaw tight.
Throat bobbing.
Fingers twitching in his lap like he wants to reach for me but won’t.
“Tell me,” I plead.
He shuts his eyes.
For the first time, he looks like the lie is physically destroying him.
Then—
Knock. Hard. Urgent.
Cassian stiffens.
I exhale shakily. “It’s probably Asher again.”
“It’s not,” Cassian mutters under his breath.
He’s right.
Amelia bursts through the door without waiting for permission.
Of course.
She locks onto me.
“I need to talk to you,” she spits.
Cassian steps between us instantly.
“No,” he says. “You don’t.”
She narrows her eyes. “You don’t own her.”
“She doesn’t want to talk to you.”
“You don’t get to decide that.”
“Actually,” Cassian says, voice dropping to a quiet threat, “I do. Until she remembers everything, I’m the one responsible for her.”
Amelia’s jaw drops. “Responsible? For HER?”
She looks at me, eyes frantic and crazed.
“You don’t know anything,” she hisses. “You’re making new mistakes on top of old ones.”
Cassian moves her backward with his body alone.
“Leave,” he growls.
Amelia shoves his chest. Hard. “Don’t TOUCH me!”
Cassian doesn’t move.
He doesn’t even blink.
She lunges for me.
It’s fast.
Sharp.
Almost mindless.
She grabs my wrist and yanks.
I gasp.
Cassian is on her in half a heartbeat.
He grabs her arm—not hard, just enough to stop her—and pulls her back, placing himself fully between us.
“Don’t touch her again,” he warns.
Amelia sneers. “Oh, because you get to?”
He steps closer, voice dropping to lethal softness:
“She’s scared. You’re making it worse.”
“I’m trying to HELP her,” Amelia snaps.
“No,” Cassian says calmly. “You’re trying to make her remember what you want her to remember.”
Amelia stiffens.
Cassian’s voice hardens. “Get. Out.”
Amelia glares at me over his shoulder.
“You’re going to regret choosing him,” she snarls. “Just like before.”
The words hit me like a slap.
Before.
Cassian’s breath shudders.
“Amelia,” he says, “leave.”
She storms out, slamming the door behind her.
The apartment vibrates with the impact.
⸻
Cassian turns to check my wrist.
“Did she hurt you?” he murmurs, voice tight.
“No,” I say softly.
He lifts my hand anyway—slowly, gently, barely touching—and runs his thumb lightly over the reddened skin.
I shiver.
He does too.
He drops my hand like it burned him.
“I shouldn’t have let her get that close,” he mutters.
“She wasn’t trying to talk,” I say quietly. “She was trying to… what? Shake something loose?”
He doesn’t answer.
Instead he stands abruptly and grabs his jacket.
“Where are you going?” I ask.
“To talk to Coach.”
“Coach?” I blink. “Why—?”
“He needs to know Amelia’s losing it,” Cassian mutters. “She’s part of the dance team. She’s around the locker rooms. She can’t be trusted right now.”
The protectiveness in his voice hits me hard.
But before he can leave—
There’s another knock.
Cassian curses under his breath. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
He opens the door halfway.
A tall, broad man stands there, older, wearing a hockey team jacket — and a worried expression.
The coach.
“Vale,” he says. “Where’s Sadie?”
Cassian stiffens. “Why?”
“I got a call from Amelia. She sounded… disturbed.”
Cassian’s jaw twitches. “She’s the one who needs help.”
The coach steps inside gently.
His eyes soften when he sees me. “Hey, kid. Good to see you awake.”
I force a smile. “Hi.”
He turns to Cassian.
“What’s happening?”
Cassian hesitates.
Just for a second.
Then—
“She grabbed Sadie.”
The coach goes rigid. “Amelia grabbed her?”
Cassian nods.
“She tried to drag her out of the apartment.”
The coach mutters a low curse. “This team doesn’t need more drama.”
Cassian’s voice drops. “It’s more than drama.”
He glances at me.
“I think she’s messing with Sadie’s memory.”
My stomach flips.
The coach sighs, rubbing his face. “What the hell happened between you three last year?”
Cassian goes still.
The coach shakes his head. “Never mind. Don’t answer that now. I’ll talk to Amelia.”
He heads to the door, stops, and looks at me. “You good staying with Vale?”
I nod immediately.
Too immediately.
Cassian’s breath catches.
The coach nods once and leaves.
The door closes softly.
And then—
Silence.
Cassian exhales, shaky, strained. “Sadie, there’s something I need to tell you.”
I swallow. Hard.
The dream-memory is still echoing inside me.
“Cass,” I whisper, “just say it.”
He runs a hand through his hair.
“When you remembered that kiss?” he murmurs. “That wasn’t the only one.”
My pulse skitters.
“We kissed a lot,” he says softly. “More than we should have.”
My heart lurches. “Why shouldn’t we have?”
He meets my eyes, raw honesty burning through him.
“Because you weren’t mine,” he whispers. “And I wasn’t supposed to want you.”
My breath catches.
“Did you?” I whisper. “Want me?”
He steps closer.
Not touching.
Barely breathing.
“I still do.”
The confession hangs between us like a spark waiting to catch fire.
Then—
A faint whisper escapes me, unbidden:
“I think… I wanted you too.”
Cassian’s eyes slam shut.
Not in triumph.
In pain.
“Sadie,” he murmurs, voice breaking, “don’t say that unless you remember all of it.”
“I want to,” I whisper. “I want to remember.”
He slowly opens his eyes.
And for the first time, he lets himself look at me like he did in the memory.
Like I hung the stars and broke his heart in the same breath.
He steps closer.
A breath apart.
His hand lifts—
hesitates—
then gently cups the back of my neck.
My body melts into the touch I don’t remember
but know.
“Sadie…” he whispers, breath trembling, “if you remember everything—everything— you might hate me.”
My voice is barely sound.
“Then show me.”
- Writer
