Chapter Five - Morning in the wrong bed. But it feels right.
1167 Words
The first thing I feel is warmth.
Not sunlight—
him.
A steady heat behind my back.
A slow, deep breath brushing my shoulder.
A heavy arm curved loosely around my waist.
I blink awake, disoriented.
Cassian’s bedroom.
Cassian’s sheets.
Cassian’s scent clinging to my skin.
I don’t remember falling asleep here.
I don’t remember climbing into his bed at all.
But my body fits against him like it’s muscle memory.
Like it’s home.
Slowly, carefully, I turn my head toward him.
He’s asleep.
Really asleep.
Mouth slightly parted.
Dark lashes resting on his cheeks.
One hand fisted in the blanket like he’s gripping control even in unconsciousness.
He looks younger like this.
Softer.
Breakable.
He also looks like a man who hasn’t slept well in a long time.
My chest squeezes.
I try to shift, just a little—
He instantly pulls me closer.
Not fully awake.
Just instinct.
His arm tightens around my waist in a slow, sleepy reflex, dragging me back against him.
My breath catches.
“Cassian…” I whisper.
He doesn’t wake.
He just buries his face in my neck with a soft, low groan that sends heat straight to my stomach.
I freeze.
Then melt.
Then freeze again.
This doesn’t feel like pretending.
This feels like something we’ve done a hundred times.
“Cassian,” I whisper again, louder.
He stirs.
His breath stills.
Then—
slow and terrified—
his eyes open.
He realizes how he’s holding me.
And he goes absolutely, completely still.
No breath.
No movement.
Just a full-body panic behind his eyes.
“I—I’m sorry,” he rasps, instantly pulling away like I’m on fire. “I didn’t— I wasn’t— Sadie, I’m sorry.”
I reach for him without thinking.
His breath catches when my fingers brush his wrist.
“It’s okay,” I whisper.
He shakes his head. “No. It’s not. I shouldn’t have— I promised Asher I wouldn’t—”
He cuts himself off, jaw locking.
“You promised Asher… what?” I ask quietly.
He closes his eyes.
Regret.
Shame.
Longing.
All mixed together.
“Nothing,” he finally murmurs. “Don’t worry about it.”
But I do.
Because his voice trembles.
And because I know he’s lying.
Even if I don’t remember him…
I know when he lies.
⸻
Asher chooses the worst possible moment to show up.
Cassian helps me off the bed, keeping his distance this time. His shoulder barely brushes mine as he leads me to the living room.
He looks haunted.
I feel haunted.
We’re two people trying to pretend we don’t feel the gravity between us.
The knock on the door makes both of us jump.
Cassian stiffens. “Stay here.”
“Who is it?” I ask.
His jaw tics. “Probably trouble.”
He opens the door a c***k.
Asher stands there.
With coffee.
And a smug, relaxed grin.
Like he’s enjoying his morning and his freedom and has no idea he’s the villain in someone else’s story.
“Morning,” Asher says cheerfully. “Thought I’d stop by and see how my girl’s doing.”
My girl.
The words hit me like a slap.
Cassian blocks the doorway with his body. “Now’s not a good time.”
Asher rolls his eyes. “Relax. I’m not here to make out with her. Just checking in.”
Checking in.
Not caring.
Not hurting.
Not suffering.
Just checking in.
Cocky.
Calm.
Untouched by last night.
Nothing about him suggests heartbreak.
And the strangest part?
My chest feels nothing for him.
Empty.
Hollow.
Wrong.
“Move,” Asher mutters, brushing past Cassian.
Cassian growls under his breath.
And for the first time—
Asher notices something.
His eyes flick from Cassian’s hoodie on my body…
…to my bare legs under the long hem…
…to the rumpled sheets behind us…
…to how close Cassian is standing.
His smile fades.
“Did…” Asher asks slowly, “did you sleep in his bed?”
Silence.
I don’t know if I should lie.
I don’t know what the truth even means.
“Yes,” I whisper.
Cassian goes rigid.
Asher’s expression cracks—
not into heartbreak, but into something sharper.
Sour.
Possessive.
Angry.
“You’re supposed to be taking CARE of her, not cuddling,” Asher snaps.
Heat floods my face. “I fell asleep.”
“I bet you did,” Asher mutters darkly.
Cassian steps forward, voice low and deadly:
“Watch your mouth.”
Asher laughs, bitter. “Right. Forgot. You’re ‘the boyfriend’ now.”
His eyes cut to me.
“You like him touching you?”
Cassian sucks in a sharp breath.
My cheeks burn.
I don’t have an answer.
My silence is an answer.
Asher’s jaw tightens. “Unbelievable.”
He steps closer to me—too close—and I instinctively step back.
Right into Cassian.
Cassian’s hand lands on my hip without thought.
Protective.
Instinctual.
Possessive.
It shocks him.
It shocks me.
It INFURIATES Asher.
“What the hell was that?” Asher snaps.
Cassian jerks his hand away like he touched fire.
“Nothing,” Cassian mutters.
Asher scoffs. “Right. REAL convincing.”
He looks at me again.
But this time…
His expression is different.
Not relaxed.
Not playful.
Not indifferent.
Jealous.
Jealous in a way that surprises even him.
“You’re getting too comfortable here,” Asher says, voice clipped. “We need to start spacing things out. You need time with ME too.”
His words hit wrong.
Everywhere.
Before I can respond—
The door cracks open wider.
A head peeks in.
Black hair.
Thick eyeliner.
A smile too tight.
Amelia.
“Morning,” she singsongs, like she owns the place. “Hope you’re feeling better, Sadie.”
Her gaze rakes over me.
Then over Cassian.
Her eyes narrow.
“You’re wearing his clothes?” she asks, voice dripping.
I straighten. “He lent them to me.”
“One night back and already dressing like you live here…” she says with a sweet, poisonous smile. “Some habits die hard, I guess.”
A flicker of memory hits me.
Sharp.
Quick.
Cassian and Amelia yelling.
Me crying.
Asher slamming a door.
A crowd watching.
My stomach twists.
“What habits?” I whisper.
Amelia freezes.
Cassian pales.
Asher’s eyes widen.
Before anyone can answer—
My vision blurs, and another flash hits—
Cassian’s hand reaching for mine.
My hand reaching back.
A kiss.
Soft.
Quick.
Stolen.
Hidden behind a building.
At night.
My heart racing.
Then—
Asher’s voice shouting my name.
Cassian pulling away too fast.
My breath catching.
My heart breaking.
The memory vanishes.
I stumble.
Cassian catches my elbow gently. “Sadie—?”
Asher steps between us, storm-eyed. “Hey—HEY—don’t touch her.”
Cassian jerks his hand back like he’s been burned.
But the damage is done.
The lie is cracking.
And everyone in this room knows it.
- Writer
