Page 6 of Saving Love

Cassian’s chair scrapes against the floor, the sound filling my heart with dread. This is it. He’s going to kick me out the way I deserve.

When nothing happens, I peek one eye open, shocked once again to see Cassian kneeling next to me and making himself smaller. The confounding man holds his hand out, palm up, and I automatically place my hand in his. Something settles deep in my chest once we’re touching.

“Can you look at me, beautiful?”

There’s that word again. Beautiful. This time, he was definitely addressing me, right?

I lift my eyes up to meet his, overwhelmed by the understanding and sorrow I see reflected in his emerald irises.

“I know better than most what it takes to survive out there on your own. I’m sorry you were in a position where you had to make a decision like that.”

My lower lip trembles, but I’m able to keep the tears held back. Barely. “But…” I trail off, not sure what I was going to say in the first place.

“No one is mad at you. You’re not in trouble. And you certainly deserve to eat, Blakely. Whoever made you feel inferior, less than, and unworthy, was wrong. I know you don’t understand that yet, but I hope you will one day soon.”

I open my mouth and close it a few times, stunned once again by Cassian's response.

“Do you trust me, sweetheart?” he asks in a hushed tone.

I nibble on my bottom lip, then tell him the truth. “I want to, but I don’t know how.”

Cassian squeezes my hand and gives me a warm smile. “That’s a start,” he tells me before standing to his full height. Cassian takes my bowl and refills it, setting it down in front of me. “I’m going to go make the bed up for you whenever you’re done.”

“It’s your bed,” I protest. “I’m fine on the couch. Honestly, it’s so much better than what I normally sleep on.”

Cassian furrows his brow, and I can tell he wants to ask me more about it. He decides not to say anything, which I’m grateful for. I don’t want him to know how pathetic I am.

“That settles it, then.” Good, I’m glad he understands. “You’re definitely getting the bed.”

“But–”

Cassian leaves the kitchen before I can finish my thought. This man really wants good things for me? I’m still skeptical, but I’d be lying if I said Cassian wasn’t the best thing to ever happen to me. I might be naive, but I meant what I told him. I want to trust him.

I just hope I don’t get played for a fool for a second time up on this mountain.

5

CASSIAN

Irun my fingers through my hair, tugging at the strands as I pace from one side of the living room to the other. Part of me thought I’d wake up this morning to find an empty bed, either because Blakely ran or because I made her up. But when I checked on her in the early hours of the morning, she was sound asleep, her soft little snores settling deep in my bones.

I provided that for her. I made her feel safe enough to sleep.

That's a start. My Blakely has been to hell and back and even has the scars to show it. I still don't know the details of what she endured before I met her, but now that she's here, I don't want to let her go.

At some point in my tossing and turning last night, my heart decided to come back online after being shut off for years. For the first time since leaving the Rangers, it wasn’t nightmares that kept me awake; it was thoughts of how I can earn Blakely’s trust.

Goddamn if I don't finally understand what Huxley and Wilder went through with their women. Literally overnight, my entire purpose and meaning in life have changed.

While coming up with ways to build Blakely up and help her see the woman I see, I decided to make three dozen muffins. That was at four in the morning, and now, several hours later, I have nothing left to do except wait for my girl to wake up. Not that she’s mine, per se. Not yet, anyway.

Sighing, I head to the bathroom and rinse my face off, looking in the mirror for what feels like the first time since moving up the mountain. The man reflected back at me looks a little worse for wear. I have bags under my eyes and my hair is sticking straight up, which makes sense with how much I’ve been messing with it this morning. My beard is… unruly, to say the least. I look a bit feral. It’s a miracle I didn’t scare Blakely off when she woke up on my couch.

Wetting my hair and beard down, I attempt to tame my wild locks and shape my beard enough to be presentable. I can’t say I’ve ever cared much about how I look, but I want Blakely to like what she sees.

The familiar sound of the bedroom door creaking open has my heart racing and everything in me on high alert. She’s awake. Her cute little feet pad against the hardwood floor, and I take one last look at myself in the mirror. I don’t deserve the sweet angel that trespassed through my land and straight into my heart. I couldn’t live with myself if she thought I was taking advantage of her or the vulnerable position she’s in, but then again, the thought of leaving her in the care of someone else has a growl rumbling up from my very core.

When Blakely calls my name in her tentative voice, I know I’m fucked. She’s mine to cherish. Mine to heal. Mine to… love?

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