I love you, Colt, I always will, but this is it between us.
If Faith is who you want to be with, then good luck.
I’m sorry.
Goodbye, Colt.
Forever and Always Yours,
Cassy
I slowly slide off the edge of the bed, my ass landing with a thump on the floor, and drop my arms on my bent knees, my head lolling as the letter drops from my fingers.
She was leaving me anyway….
My breathing picks up before everything goes hazy, and I lose it. I drop the letter then grab the side table and chuck it acrossthe room, smashing it against the wall, then pick up the wooden bedframe, flipping it over, the frame snapping in the process.
I head to my dresser next and boot it with my bare feet once, twice, and three times, causing the splintered wood to cut into my foot as my door slams open. I ignore whoever it is and grab the wood before chucking that next.
“Dammit,” I hear muttered before arms wrap around me from behind. I struggle against whoever has hold of me before Anchor comes into view, and we lock eyes.
Concern etches off him, seeing my tears, and I choke out, “I’m never going to find because she was leaving me anyway….”
He curses before taking me into his embrace as I fall apart, and Piston grips my shoulder.
She was leaving me anyway….
8
Cassidy – Twenty-Seven Years Old
“Take two tablets three times a day for seven days,” I say to Mr. Andrews, the elderly man who came in with a sore throat, handing him his prescription.
His doctors sent him away because he was showing no signs of infection or fever, and yet one look at his throat showed his tonsils enlarged and full of white puss, which says otherwise.
“Thank you, Dr. Brody,” he croaks.
I smile and reply, “You are most welcome. The nurse will be back in with your discharge papers momentarily," before I turn and head back to the nurse’s station.
I give Hannah, who is amazing, a smile as my eyes go to the clock, and I sigh. I’m tired. I’ve been at the hospital for over fourteen hours without so much as an hour break, but I guess that’s the joy of being a resident.
Shaking my head, I quickly sign off on Mr. Andrews's discharge papers, handing them to the nurse in charge. Then, I grab thenext folder in the growing pile of patients, knowing I can get at least one more in before I clock off.
I’m in my last year of residency, something most people my age don’t manage, especially after having a child, but I’ve worked my butt off for Moira, my dad, and my sister.
I may have left Perrie, but she’s never far from my mind; none of them are.
After I passed out in the ER that day, I woke to a worried Dr. Carmichael. He said I had low blood sugar, and my stress levels were too high. He explained my pregnancy needed to be monitored and that I’d miscarry if I didn’t stay stress-free, which was easier said than done after having the father of my child put a gun to my head, but with the added trauma to my stomach fromhim, I had to be careful.
I knew I couldn’t start over in a new place, not having the money for it and barely scraping by as it was—not that my sister or ex knew—but I remembered Piston telling me that, one day, if I needed to run from someone, I should hide in plain sight but change my last name.
So, when I woke up in the hospital and realized it wasn't a horrible nightmare, I devised a plan. I rang my landlord, who agreed to change the locks to my apartment and lie to Steal about me handing in my keys if he was to show up looking for me, something he wasn’t keen on but agreed after I explained what had happened in the club—minus the whole stabbing someone thing—and I asked him to change the name on the lease to Cassidy Brody, Steal’s last name, something no one will consider me doing after he treated me so bad. I’m still in the apartment, but I’ve managed to remove myself from the club fully, no one seeing me, mainly because my apartment is out oftheir territory, more in the Killers’ territory, a group of thugs who think they own New York when really, they’re just parasites who like to cause shit for the sake of it.
I quit the grocery store, obviously, and got a job in a care facility for the disabled, knowing I’d need the money for Moira, while continuing to help the fighters down at The Fight.
Thankfully, I’ve never bumped into Perrie, who used to fight religiously to help keep Dad’s gym afloat, no thanks to our mother's spending. Though Perrie did promise to quit, so that made it easier for Viking, the Rebels brother, to sign me up for duty four times a week.
I explained exactly what happened, and he was happy to help keep me under the radar.