Page 112 of Double Standards
One. Two. Three times.
My knuckles brush the door again, softer this time, almost pleading. “Axel?” My voice cracks on his name.
Nothing.
I should leave. I should turn around. But my hand stays on the door like it’s the only thing keeping me upright.
Suddenly, the door swings open.
My heart stutters, hoping to make me jump. But it’s quickly doused by a face I wasn’t expecting to see.
“Cassie. What are you doing here?” Hunter’s eyes widen.
“Cassie.” I’m greeted with the shocked face of Hunter, grasping the door protectively. “What are you doing here?”
He hesitates. “Yes.”
“So…?”
“I’m sorry, Cassie.” He sighs, blocking the doorway. “He doesn’t want... he’s not really up for talking to anyone.”
“You’re here,” I point out, glaring at him. He might be attractive—in that cute, boyish way—but he can’t distract me with it. He’s not Axel.
“I’m just keeping up with everything.” He sighs and gestures for me to come in.
Inside, he leads me down the dark hallway, to Axel’s office. I half expect Axel to be posted up behind his desk, but as soon as I see the empty chair, disappointment settles in the pit of my stomach.
Hunter rounds the desk, reaching into a drawer. He pulls out an envelope, handing it to me with a nervous reach. “He wanted you to have this.” Then he grabs a garment bag from behind the door. “And this.”
It’s my coat. The same one I used to stop the bleeding. Clean. Pristine. Untouched by what happened.
“It’s been dry cleaned,” Hunter assures, like that’s going to prevent the dull ache from expanding in my chest.
My hands tremble as I open the envelope. A check.
My stomach turns. “What the hell? You can’t be serious.”
“He said it was more than enough.”
“I don’t want his money, Hunter.” My voice cracks. The tears come fast, blurring the numbers on the check.
“I know what you want, Cassie,” Hunter says quietly. “But he won’t speak to you.”
I collapse into the armchair, crushed under the weight of everything I never got to say.
“He blames me, doesn’t he?” My voice is a whisper. A plea.
“What? No!” Hunter crouches in front of me, fierce and sincere. “This wasn’t your fault.”
“Then why wouldn’t he tell me?” My voice shakes. “Why wouldn’t he call?”
“I can’t answer that.”
“Can’t or won’t?”
“Both.”
I slam the check against his chest, fingers creasing the paper. I stand, legs shaking, heart aching. “Then I can’t and won’t take his money.”
