APRILS POV
It had been weeks since I’d last seen Cassius. Almost two months.
At first, I convinced myself it didn’t matter. I’d built walls higher than anyone could climb, fortified by hard months of loss, rejection, and betrayal. An Alpha’s fleeting attention shouldn’t have even scratched the surface.
And yet, here I was.
Every night, after the last customer stumbled out and silence wrapped around the bar, my thoughts betrayed me. I’d catch myself replaying the last time we were alone, the intensity of his gaze, the way his touch sent jolts of electricity through me. I hated how easily he’d wormed his way into my mind and hated even more that I couldn’t seem to push him out.
He left, just like everyone else.
And wasn’t that always the story?
But this time was different. Not because of what he did or didn’t do-but because I was done letting anyone think they could just come and go as they pleased. I was my own foundation now.
—
The bar was quiet tonight, and the hum of the old jukebox was the only sound filling the space. I didn’t mind. The solitude gave me time to catch my breath and to find my footing again.
I was wiping down the counter, my thoughts wandering, when the door creaked open.
I glanced up, expecting one of the regulars. But the sight of him standing there, framed by the dim light from outside, stopped me cold.
Cassius.
For a moment, neither of us said anything. He just stood there, his broad shoulders blocking out the world beyond the door, his storm-gray eyes locked on mine.
I tightened my grip on the rag, forcing myself to meet his gaze.
“What can I get you?” I asked finally, my voice steady and calm.
I was being professional; Clearly, what I thought we had did not exist.
All we did have was a bartender and a client relationship.
He stepped inside, letting the door swing shut behind him. His movements were slow and deliberate as if he were testing the waters.
“April,” he said softly. Just my name, but it hit harder than I wanted to admit.
“Cassius,”
“I will have the whiskey,” He said.
“Coming right up,” I said and poured him the whiskey.
“There you go,” I said as I passed him the drink.
I then went back to cleaning the counter and just ignored how his eyes stayed on me.
“I know I have been gone for a while; how are you?”
A while? Two months, to be exact, but hey? Who is counting?
“Same old, same old,” I said because what else was I supposed to say?
“Come on, April, Don’t be like that,” he said sadly.
I raised an eyebrow, refusing to let him see how his presence affected me. “Well, you are two months a little late to start caring about my well-being,” I said without thinking.
“I had things to handle,” he said, his tone unreadable.
I scoffed, tossing the rag onto the counter. “Of course you did. Let me guess-more important things?”
His jaw tightened, and he looked like he wanted to argue for a moment. But then he sighed, running a hand through his dark hair.
“I made a mistake,” he admitted.
I crossed my arms over my chest, leaning back against the counter. “You don’t say. Seems like you have been making a lot of those,” I said, remembering how he had called our kiss a mistake.
He took a step closer, the air between us thick with unspoken tension.
“You don’t understand-”
“You’re right,” I cut him off, my voice sharp. “I don’t understand. Because most people, when they care about something-or someone-they don’t just vanish without a word.”
His eyes darkened, a flicker of something dangerous flashing across his face.
“I didn’t vanish,” he said, his voice low. “I stayed away because I thought it was the right thing to do.”
“For you or for me?”
The question hung in the air, heavy and unanswerable.
He didn’t respond, and I shook my head, pushing away from the counter.
“Look, Cassius, I’m not interested in whatever game you think you’re playing. I’ve dealt with enough arrogance to last a lifetime.”
I moved to step past him, but he reached out, his hand wrapping gently around my wrist. The warmth of his touch sent a jolt up my arm, but I refused to let it show.
“April, wait.”
I turned to face him, my expression cold. “What?”
His grip loosened, but he didn’t let go entirely. His eyes searched mine like he was trying to find the right words.
“You don’t know me,” he said finally, his voice barely above a whisper. “Not really. You don’t know what I am.”
Those damn words again made my stomach twist, but I kept my composure.
Of course, I knew what he was, but he did not have to know that.
“Maybe I don’t,” I said evenly. “But I know enough.”
He let out a bitter laugh, releasing my wrist. “Do you? Because if you did, you wouldn’t want anything to do with me.”
I raised an eyebrow, refusing to be intimidated. “You think you’re the only one with secrets? Please.”
The tension between us crackled like a live wire. I could feel his frustration, his desperation to make me understand something he couldn’t say outright. But I wasn’t about to make this easy for him.
“I don’t need you to explain yourself, Cassius,” I said finally. “I don’t need you at all.”
The words were harsher than I intended, but I didn’t regret them.
For a moment, he just stared at me, his expression unreadable. Then he stepped back, his shoulders stiff.
“I guess I was right,” he said quietly. “You don’t understand.”
Without another word, he turned and walked out, the door slamming shut behind him.
I stood there for a moment, the silence of the empty bar pressing down on me. My chest felt tight, my pulse racing, but I forced myself to push it aside.
This wasn’t the first time I’d been rejected.
I thought of my mate, the one who had looked at me and decided I wasn’t enough. The one who had made me question my worth, who had forced me to bury every ounce of vulnerability I had left.
And now here I was, letting another Alpha stir up those same feelings.
But not this time.
I was stronger now. Colder.
And if Cassius thought he could waltz in and out of my life like he had some kind of claim on me, he was dead wrong.
I returned to the bar, picked up the rag and resumed cleaning.
Because that was the thing about being rejected twice-you learned how to keep moving, no matter how much it hurt.