Page 63 of Session 33

I was leaning into the music, dancing with Naomi, the brown liquor making everything blur just right. I could feel the night moving in slow motion.

Cassius had been off to the side most of the night, flirting with a group of women like the cocky bastard he always was. I heard him and Ciara broke up but nobody would tell me why. Silas knew. I could tell by the way he would laugh when I asked. He was back to normal, feeling less toxic, charming everyone around him. Loving being the center of attention, laughing loud and pulling out that smile I used to fall for. He was even cordial to Solomon, but I could see his jealousy that always lived just under the surface. Or at least I thought I could.

Jonas was manning the grill. I started eavesdropping after Cassius made his way over to him, holding a beer, talking about how therapy was working wonders.

“Dr. Bailey says we’re making breakthroughs,” he told Jonas, his chest puffed out. “I feel brand new,” he bragged.

I saw Solomon watching me from the other side of the patio, a careful, measured look on his face like he was deciding if he wanted to interrupt my fun or not. He’d said I shouldn’t drink too much, but I didn’t care. Not right now.

The music changed, something slower that I couldn’t dance to—not alone, and Solomon claimed he didn’t dance in public. I headed over to grab a blunt from Jonas. I was stopped by Solomon’s hand wrapping around my waist. He sat down and pulled me down into the chair next to him. His eyes were all serious, scolding.

“I think you’ve had enough,” he said quietly, his grip firm.

I raised an eyebrow at him, half-laughing. “You’re right,” I admitted. “I gotta pee anyway.”

I pushed myself up from the chair. I stumbled my way inside, the alcohol catching up to me, making everything feel lighter than it should. The bathroom door was right there, but it seemed light-years away. I made it without falling, and I was just about to close it behind me when Cassius appeared out of nowhere, slipping inside before I could say anything. The door clicked shut, trapping us together in the small space.

He leaned against the counter, his eyes raking over me, slow and deliberate. “Damn, Angel. You look good.”

I couldn’t help but laugh, shaking my head. “Cassius, get out. Seriously.”

He stepped closer, his body heat filling the space between us. His fingers trailed down my arm, slow and teasing, the way he used to do when we were alone, back when everything was easy between us.

“I’m not playing. You look fucking amazing in that bathing suit,” he said, his voice low, rough.

I felt that familiar spark, the one that always lit up between us, no matter how hard I tried to ignore it. But I shook it off, pushing past him.

“Stop,” I said, my voice firmer now. “It’s not happening.”

I still had to pee but decided I’d hold it until Cassius went back out. My pulse was racing from being too close to him. I carefully made my way downstairs and found Solomon standing by the front door, jacket in hand, waiting for me.

“It’s only nine,” I said, my voice full of disbelief. “We’re leaving? I’ve got a sitter until midnight.”

“We’re leaving,” Solomon said, his tone leaving no room for argument. “I want to go home. We’re going to church in the morning.”

I frowned. “I’m not religious, Solomon. I’m not even Catholic,” I slurred.

“We’ll discuss it at home,” he replied, but I could see his attention shift behind me. I turned to follow his gaze, and there was Cassius, coming down the stairs with some random girl, her hand clinging to his arm like she owned him. She was giggling, drunk.

I rolled my eyes.

“Let’s go, Angel,” Solomon said again, his voice dropping into a tone I wasn’t used to. It was mean. I didn’t push back. Not tonight.

I shot one last look at Cassius, who caught my eye and raised his beer like he was giving a toast, like we were still playing whatever fucked-up game we used to play. “Have a good day at church tomorrow,” he said.

The girl on his arm giggled.

I turned back to Solomon, and without another word, followed him out of the house.

Chapter fifty five-

I'm Healing...

"Did you write down what we talked about?" Dr. Bailey asked, his voice calm, pulling me out of my thoughts. I sat across from him, staring at the piece of paper in my hands. He was waiting for me to man up, his eyes on me—patient, though I could tell I was wearing him thin with my hesitation. But I knew what I had to do to get better, no matter how awkward I felt. I was here to fix my shit, wasn’t I?

I nodded, my fingers smoothing out the paper that was already creased and worn from how many times I’d folded and unfolded it. I hadn’t let myself think too hard while writing it, just let the words flow. But now, I had to face them. Speaking them out loud was different.

"Go ahead," he encouraged, leaning back in his chair.