Page 18 of Session 33
The vibe shifted, thick and heavy, like the air between us had its own pulse. Cassius stepped in close, his fingers brushing against mine before he took my hand, slowly, like he was letting me decide if I’d pull away. I didn’t. Instead, I let him guide me, his hands sliding down to grip my waist, pulling me flush against him. His hard dick pressed into my stomach. The music wrapped around us, closing in the space until it felt like there was no one else in the world.His breath brushed against my cheek, and his dark, steady gaze locked onto mine.
I just knew he was about to kiss me. My heart thundered in my chest. I wanted him to. But I pulled back, the moment too much for me while I was high. “I’m tired,” I whispered, my voice barely audible. “Come lay with me.” I reached for him.
He followed, fingers locked with mine, his grip firm, like he was scared I’d let go.
In the dim light, we undressed. His shirt hit the floor, then mine, then everything else until we were down to our underwear. Both of us breathing heavy. Both of us turned on but not acting on it. I think we were both too scared to, sharing the same mindset. We were damn near perfect in the place we were. Why would we risk ruining it by crossing a line we couldn’t uncross? We slid beneath the sheets, his chest pressing against my back, his arm curling around my waist, pretending like the tension wasn’tabout to unravel us both. But somehow, I still managed to fall asleep feeling content, just being held.
When I woke up the next morning, he was gone.
Days passed, and I didn’t hear from him. I replayed the night in my mind, turning over every detail, wondering what I’d done wrong. I missed him.
Chapter thirteen
You can only run from ghosts for so long before they catch you, their cold fingers curling around your throat, dragging you back into the past. That’s what it felt like tonight, sitting on the cold floor of my darkened living room, shadows pressing in around me. The bottle beside me trembled in my hand as I took another swig, the amber liquid burning its way down my throat, trying to drown the memories that refused to stay buried.
It was the anniversary of the day my father killed my mother and uncle. The blood, the screams, the sharp metallic tang of violence—it all felt fresh, like it had just happened. Every year, the anniversary brought the same haunting memories I couldn’t seem to escape.
My hand trembled as I drank again, but the liquor wasn’t enough to quiet my head. I wanted to call Angel, to hear her voice, to have her calm me like no one else could. But I stopped myself. I didn’t want her to see this side of me—the broken, angry man who scared even himself.
The bottle flew before I even realized I’d let it go, crashing against the wall with a satisfying shatter. Glass rained down in jagged pieces, but it wasn’t enough. My chest heaved, my body moved on its own. I flipped the couch, sent the coffee table tumbling, ripped pictures off the walls. Everything had to go. The destruction felt like the only way to breathe.
When it was over, I stood in the middle of the chaos, glass crunching beneath my feet. My breath came out in ragged gasps as I looked around at the mess—my life, reflected back at me. I couldn’t take it anymore. I turned toward the garage, needing to escape, but froze when I saw Naomi and Jonas standing in the doorway.
Naomi held up a bag. The smell of food hit me hard—I hadn’t eaten all day. But it was the look in her eyes that disarmed me. “We hadn’t heard from you all day, and since today’s the day…” she said softly. “Figured you’d be in your feelings.”
I stared at them, my anger shrinking into a dull ache. I let out a low chuckle. “Yeah, well, you know how it is.”
Jonas patted me on the back as he passed, heading to the kitchen. I could hear him pulling out plates.
Naomi started cleaning up the mess in the living room. She didn’t say anything about the broken glass or the overturned furniture, just swept it up, clearing a space for us to sit.
We settled around the coffee table. For a moment, it almost felt normal, but the weight of the day made it too hard to pretend.
We ate in silence. I was grateful for their presence. They didn’t need to say anything—just being there was enough.
After dinner, Jonas brought out a deck of cards. "How about a game?" he suggested.
He dealt the cards. “I could use some spending money. How much you got on this game?”
We played for hours. I laughed, and I felt the knot in my chest loosen.
When we finally called it a night, Jonas gathered the trash and dishes and headed to the kitchen, leaving Naomi and me alone. She turned to me, her expression serious.
"We don’t always see eye to eye on everything, Cassius," she said, taking my face in her hands, smoothing her fingers over my cheeks. "But I want you to know you are loved. Stop thinking you have to bottle up all your feelings or hide them behind destructive behavior. Just call somebody."
Her words hit me hard. I could only nod, my throat too tight to speak.
Jonas returned and pulled Naomi from the floor, then me. I suspected he’d gone to the kitchen so Naomi could talk to me—he didn’t do emotions. "Come on, man. You’re coming with us. We can’t leave you here like this."
I started to protest, but the look in their eyes told me there was no arguing. They wouldn’t leave me alone tonight.
Reluctantly, I followed them out. The night air was cool, and I felt a little more grounded with each step away from the house.
In the car, Naomi turned to me. "Hand me your phone."
Confused, I passed it to her. She quickly typed something and handed it back. On the screen was a message to Angel:"Hey beautiful, had some business to take care of. I’ll call you when I’m free."
I glanced at Naomi. "I thought you didn’t want me dealing with her."