Chapter 133 Hope
Grey
"This morning, when Cassie was... when she looked up at me like that, I heard his voice. I felt twelve years old again, and I couldn't separate then from now. And then I was furious with her for putting me in that position, even though I know she didn't mean to."
"But you did separate them," Meagan pointed out. "You stopped her before you did something you'd really regret. You protected her even when your mind was somewhere else."
"I made her think she'd done something wrong. And part of me wanted her to think that, wanted her to feel as helpless as I did."
The confession hung between us like a poisonous cloud. I'd wanted to hurt her, wanted to pass along some of the pain that was eating me alive. The realization made me sick.
"Then go back and fix it," Meagan said simply. "Tell her the truth. All of it. And let her decide if you're worth fighting for."
I stood abruptly, pacing to the window that looked out over Meagan's carefully tended garden. "What if she runs?"
"What if she doesn't?"
I turned to study my sister's face, seeing echoes of our shared past in her eyes but also something else – hope, healing, the possibility of moving forward without forgetting where we'd come from.
"I don't know how to do this," I admitted.
"None of us do," Meagan said with a soft smile. "That's what makes it an adventure."
She was right, of course. I'd spent so many years focused on survival, on making sure the monsters of the world faced justice, that I'd forgotten how to live. How to love. How to trust someone else with the broken pieces of myself.
"She's probably better off without me," I said, but even as the words left my mouth, I knew I didn't believe them.
"Maybe," Meagan agreed. "But shouldn't that be her choice to make?"
I stayed for another hour, letting Meagan's quiet strength anchor me the way it had when we were children hiding in closets and bathroom stalls. When I finally left, I felt something I hadn't experienced in years the possibility that my past didn't have to define my future.
The drive back to the house felt longer than usual, giving me time to rehearse conversations I'd never thought I'd have. How did you tell someone you loved them by first explaining why you might never be able to show it the way they deserved? How did you ask for patience with demons you'd never named?
I pulled into the driveway, I realized that Meagan was right. Cassie deserved to know the truth all of it. She deserved to make an informed choice about whether she wanted to fight for us or walk away while she still could.
When the doors opened, I could smell the lingering scent of the breakfast Cassie had prepared , a domestic comfort that made my chest tighten with longing.
She was sitting on the couch when I entered, still in her robe, a book in her lap that she clearly wasn't reading. Her eyes found mine immediately, searching my face for clues about what had changed in the hours since I'd left.
"Hi," she said simply, and the lack of accusation in her voice nearly undid me.
"Hi," I replied, suddenly uncertain how to begin.
We stared at each other across the room, the weight of unspoken truths settling between us like a challenge. I knew I'd reached a crossroads I could retreat behind my carefully constructed walls, or I could trust this woman with the pieces of myself I'd never shown anyone except Meagan.
"We need to talk," I said finally.
Cassie nodded, closing her book and setting it aside. "I know."
And for the first time since that morninThe anger was the worst part, because it made no sense. Cassie had done nothing wrong – had done everything right, actually. She'd been generous and loving and eager to please, and my first instinct had been to punish her for it. To make her feel as small and helpless as Turner had made me feel.
"Do you want to know what I think?" Meagan asked quietly.
I nodded, not trusting my voice.
"I think you're not angry at her at all. I think you're angry at yourself for wanting what she was offering. For wanting to let go, to trust someone else with your pleasure. And that scares you more than anything else you've faced."
Her words hit home with painful accuracy. I'd built my entire adult life around control – controlling every situation, every interaction, every moment of vulnerability. with Cassie, I wanted to let that control go. I wanted to trust her with parts of myself I'd never shown anyone.
"What if I hurt her?" I asked quietly. "What if the nightmares come back and I don't know where I am? What if I"
"What if you don't?" Meagan interrupted. "What if you tell her the truth and she chooses to stay anyway? What if she's stronger than you think she is?"
I thought about Cassie's fierce loyalty to her father despite knowing the darkness of his business. Thought about the way she'd stood up to me in my own office, unafraid and defiant. She wasn't the fragile flower I'd tried to convince myself she was.
"He used to make me thank him," I said suddenly, the words ripped from some deep, wounded place. "After. He'd make me say thank you for the lesson, for teaching me to be a man."
Meagan's hand tightened on mine, her eyes bright w
ith unshed tears., I felt something that might have been hope.