4. Blakely

Iwake up surrounded by the softest blanket and warm, fluffy pillows. I know I must be dreaming because I've never been this cozy in my life. I take a few more moments to savor the dream before it fades away, then inhale deeply, already dreading the day. But today feels different. What happened last night?

My eyes flash open and I sit straight up as memories of the last few days filter through my mind. Oh god. I ran away. I was hiding out in a construction site when the tallest, most muscular man I've ever encountered found me and… I have no memory after that.

"Am I dead?" I whisper to myself.

"Not on my watch," a voice from right next to me says.

I jump and tense at the booming sound, closing my eyes and covering my face to protect myself from the attack I know is coming. It's an automatic response at this point.

"Hey," the man says, his tone much softer and more subdued. "I"m not going to hurt you. Ever. I promise you"re safe here."

Safe?

I shake my head and curl further into myself, wishing I could condense myself into a singularity and fade into a black hole. Everything is too much, too raw, too overwhelming. Even with my eyes closed, I feel like I'm on sensory overload as my head spins and repeats that one word: safe.

"Can you take a breath for me?" the man asks, keeping his voice quiet. "I can't have you passing out on me again."

My body obeys his command before I even register his words. I find myself gasping for air, not realizing I was holding my breath.

"Good, now slower," the stranger says soothingly. He breathes with me, silently encouraging me to match his rhythm.

After a few moments, my head stops spinning and I don't feel like the walls are closing in on me. I'm still shaken from everything that's happened over the last few days, but somehow the man who took me in seems to want to… care for me? It must be a trap, but right now, I'm too exhausted to run or fight anymore.

Slowly, I open my eyes, surprised to see the man from last night kneeling in front of me. He"s at eye level, and something about that relaxes me ever so much. He"s not using his size to intimidate me, though he very well could. In fact, the man could probably take on my uncle, which is saying something. My uncle was a professional boxer before he fell into drugs and alcohol.

"There you are," comes the gentle yet deep voice of the man who took me in and gave me shelter. "How are you feeling? Can I get you anything? Water? Food? Shower?"

I blink a few times, not sure I heard him correctly. He wants to feed me? Provide a shower? I don't deserve this. Not after the things I stole from the site. Still, those emerald eyes shine with something wholly unfamiliar to me. I can't quite place my finger on it, but I let my guard down. Just a little bit. Just enough.

"Um," I start before choking on a cough. I didn't realize how dry my throat was until I tried talking.

"Here," the man says, handing me a glass of water that must have been sitting on a nearby table. "I'm sure you're thirsty. Don't drink too fast or you might make yourself sick."

I nod and reach out for the glass with a trembling hand. Our gazes meet, and for one brief moment, I see into the depths of this man's soul. He has a pain hidden deep in his heart, one that resonates with mine.

For some reason, that gives me the courage to wrap my hand around the glass and take it from him. Heeding his advice, I sip at the water, though it takes a lot of restraint not to gulp the whole thing down.

"I'm Cassian," he says, giving me what I think is supposed to be a smile. It's clear he hasn't had a reason to smile in a long time, which makes my chest ache.

"Blakely," I say in between sips.

"Blakely," he repeats. "Beautiful."

My eyes widen at his words. Me? Beautiful? No, just my name. Calm down, girl, I tell myself.

"Now that you've had some water, would you like to eat a real meal or take a hot shower?"

"Shower," I blurt. At the same time, my stomach growls embarrassingly loud, and I place a hand over my tummy in an attempt to silence the noise.

Instead of chastising me or telling me I could go without a few more meals like my aunt used to, Cassian chuckles and holds out his hand for me to take. "You go shower up and I'll set the table. I have some clean clothes of mine folded up on the sink counter. You're welcome to wear those if they'd be more comfortable than what you have on."

I still don't know what to do with this man's kindness, but part of me really wants to trust him. I've been burned before, especially by my aunt and uncle, but Cassian… he's different. Tentative hope blooms in my chest, though I try to squash it. I've never been afforded luxuries like hope and trust.

Even so, I find myself reaching out and placing my hand in his much larger one. His calloused skin speaks to the hours of labor he's put into the construction project, not to mention those bulging muscles. When Cassian pulls me up and off the couch, I sway toward him, wanting to soak up his cedarwood and spice scent.

"Steady," he murmurs, one hand resting on my hip and holding me ever so gently in place. That one touch sends sparks up and down my spine, making me shiver at the unexpected wave of pleasure rolling through my body. "Sorry," Cassian immediately says, dropping his hand as if I burned him. "I didn't mean to crowd your space or touch you without your permission."

I tilt my head at this confounding man. Why isn't he demanding an apology for trespassing on what is presumably his land? Why didn't he yell at me or call the cops? Why is he treating me with such tenderness? I don't think Cassian is normally this soft-spoken, which means he's trying once again to make himself less intimidating.

"It's okay," I reply, trying to give him a smile. Mine is about as rusty as his, though it feels good to have a reason to use it. "Um, a shower would be great," I say, feeling more self-conscious of my ripped clothes and unholy scent from being in the wilderness for three days. God, I'm pathetic.

"Down the hall and to the left," Cassian says, pointing to the hallway. "I'll have everything ready for dinner when you get out."

I nod, half convinced this is all a dream and I'm going to wake up on the concrete floor, wrapped up in a tarp and dirty sheet.

Once in the shower, my muscles finally relax for what feels like the first time in years. Heck, that might just be the truth. Again, pathetic. The hot water stings some of my fresh wounds, but I don't mind. It's nothing I'm not used to. I notice some areas have been wrapped in a bandage or covered in a gauze pad, and I do my best to avoid those areas so the bandages stay on.

My face heats up as I think about Cassian tending to the cuts and scrapes on my arms and legs, and then a knot twists up my insides when I realize he must have seen a collection of other scars he wasn't expecting. No matter. Nothing I can do about it now except move forward and accept whatever kindness this stranger is offering for the moment.

After taking far too long under the hot stream of water, I finally step out and carefully pat myself dry. My muscles may be more relaxed now than they were before, but that doesn't mean the soreness isn't real. I bite back a groan as I bend down and dry off my feet, wincing when I see the blisters on my heels and one on my left big toe. I'm disgusting and broken, both physically and mentally.

My dark, depressing thoughts scatter when the scent of savory potato soup floats through the air. I breathe in, letting it fill my lungs, even as my stomach growls louder than before.

I quickly put on the sweatpants and sweatshirt Cassian left folded up on the counter, secretly loving that I'll smell like him, at least for a little bit. I have to roll the waist of the sweatpants a few times to get them to fit, and I feel like I'm swimming in his Army Ranger sweatshirt, but I love it.

Opening the bathroom door a crack, I peek my head out and survey my surroundings. When I don't see Cassian, I head out to the living room. There he is, pacing from one side of the living room all the way into the kitchen and back.

My stomach drops when I realize he must be annoyed with me. Of course, he is. I"m an unannounced house guest who has no food, no clothing, and nothing to offer. What a giant inconvenience.

Cassian stops abruptly, turning to look at me. I freeze when our eyes lock. He doesn't look annoyed or frustrated. He looks… relieved? Could he even be happy to see me? I can't remember the last time someone was genuinely happy just because I walked into a room.

"Soup is served," he announces, pulling out one of two chairs at his small kitchen table. I sit down in front of a steaming hot bowl of bacon potato soup, topped with cheese.

I want to slurp the whole thing down and then empty the pot on the stove as well, but I don't want to be rude. Plus, even though I haven't had a proper meal in days, I still hear my aunt"s voice echoing in my head. You don't need dinner tonight. Look at how flabby your arms are getting.

"Eat up," Cassian encourages, pulling me out of my spiraling thoughts.

I take one spoonful, and then another, exercising all the restraint I have not to bring the bowl up to my lips and drink straight from it. Instead, I eat the delicious, protein-packed soup one spoonful at a time until the bowl is empty.

"Do you want some more?" he asks. I automatically shake my head no. "I'm sure you're hungry after camping out at the work site for the last few days."

Shame blankets me as I remember stealing someone's lunch yesterday. I wrap my arms around my middle as if protecting myself from the guilt eating me up inside. I can't look at Cassian, so I avert my eyes down to my lap as I curl my shoulders in and make myself as small as possible.

"Hey, where did you go?" comes Cassian's soothing voice. "What are you thinking about? You just shut down on me."

I can"t take it any longer. "I stole a lunch yesterday," I say in a rush as I clench my hands into fists. I want to disappear into the sweatshirt I"m wearing, but then I"d be stealing that, too. "I don"t deserve a home-cooked meal or your kindness."

Silence spreads between us, and I know I've outstayed my welcome. At least I got a shower and a bowl of soup out of it.

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.