Page 12 of Tripped By Love
Cassidy
I SAVE ME
“I don't need no hero, don’t waste ‘em on me
I'll rescue my own self, I’ll set myself free.”
Performed by Diane Warren and Maren Morris
Written by Franklin / Ousley / Franklin
I kissed Chevelle’s forehead, and hedidn’t even wake as I set him in the crib. Normally, I put him to bed before he was fully conked out so he could learn to fall asleep on his own, but I’d been exhausted tonight, unable to get up from the glider in the corner where we’d been reading together. I’d almost fallen asleep along with him.
In addition to the tired seeping through my bones, my elbow was still sore. Icing it had eased it some. Enough that I was determined to make up for my lost workout session by doubling my efforts tonight. If nothing else, it would wear me out and hopefully cast me into a deep, dreamless sleep where I wouldn’t think about Marco, the money I owed Brady, or Lance Ralley’s offer.
I took the baby monitor with me, shutting the door to Chevelle’s room and making my way to my own. The soft lemon-and-white décor soothed me. Like stepping into a field of daisies. Normally, I felt like I could breathe here, but today, the hamper almost overflowing with clothes only made me feel more overwhelmed.
I tossed my long skirt and The Golden Heart Café T-shirt at the pile and searched for a clean pair of workout shorts and a tank. The restaurant was closed on Tuesdays, so I’d have time to do laundry then. I’d just add it to the endless list of things I had to do. Sometimes, all I wanted to do was play with Chevelle, snuggle in bed, and sleep our day away, but that was rarely how my days off went. Still, I was living the exact life I’d wanted?chosen?and it would be ungrateful to gripe about it. Maybe I hadn’t really understood what I was signing up for, but I’d signed on the dotted line, and I wouldn’t give it up now.
I’d just changed and gone to fill my water bottle in the kitchen when the doorbell rang. It was followed almost immediately by a sharp knock, as if whoever it was couldn’t be patient enough to see if I’d answer the first before doing the second.
I didn’t get many visitors. Most people I knew walked in my back door with their own key. Mom and Dad. Brady and Tristan. Even Marco.
I made my way to the front door. It was a beautiful piece, carved from old apple trees and lined with tempered glass along the top that didn’t allow me, even as tall as I was, to see out. I took a peek through the peephole instead. The image was blurry and contorted, but it was enough to send my heart into my throat. A knock resounded again, and I couldn’t help the startled jump it caused. I balanced myself on the wall with a hand as my legs tried to buckle.
“Cassidy?” his smooth voice called through the wood, scattering my skin with goosebumps. Not the good kind. Not the kind that Marco caused by skimming a finger over my arm even accidentally. This was all disgust.
Disgust with me. Disgust with him.
What did he want?
I took in a deep breath, held it, and then slowly exhaled. I tried not to let the tremble in my fingers show as I flipped the locks and opened the door only wide enough for him to see me. It was far from an invitation to come in.
He looked exactly the same as he had the last time I’d seen him. Dark-brown hair perfectly pressed, square chin with a dimple in it. Gray eyes hidden behind glasses that were hardly needed but added to the scholarly look he so desired. He was in a suit that had to have cost a pretty penny—maybe even more than his monthly salary at Wilson-Jacobs had once been. It was a deep navy with a gray striped shirt underneath and a tie that echoed his eyes.
He looked me over much as I was him, taking in my bare toes with lack of polish, my skinny legs dressed in workout shorts that barely covered anything, and my workout tank that was both bra and top. I had no layers of armor to shield myself from him. I was bare in a way I didn’t want to be. On display when I’d promised myself he’d never see any part of me again.
“Cassidy.” He nodded, eyes squinting slightly.
“Clayton,” I said with a calm I didn’t feel. Inside, I was panicking. Why was he here? What did he want? It certainly wasn’t me. It wasn’t the little boy I’d tucked in bed with his favorite blanket and a stuffed dog he called Hippo.
“Can I come in?” he asked.
I didn’t move. I didn’t open the door any farther. “What do you want?”
“I’d prefer to talk inside.” He glanced both ways down the street furtively. As if he was ashamed to be standing on my doorstep. As if it was costing him every ounce of pride to be here.
“Now isn’t really a good time,” I told him.
His eyes narrowed. He’d never liked it when I’d disagreed with him. Never liked it when I hadn’t easily acquiesced to whatever he wanted…commanded. In a list of regrets in my life, he was at the top while also being at the bottom.
I couldn’t completely regret him when I had Chevelle.
“When would be a better time?” he asked.
I groaned internally. Did I want him to come back? Did I want to see him a second time and risk my parents seeing him here? No way in hell. But if I knew Clayton at all, he’d keep rapping on my door until he’d said whatever it was he wanted to say.
“Never,” I tossed out but swung the door wider, took a step back, and waved him inside.
