#ncssianwrites

Standing up and turning around to face him, Nesta Archeron met eyes with Cassian for the first time in sixteen months.

He stared at her for a long silent moment, wondering whether his dreams had finally bled out into reality. Because for Cassian, Nesta Archeron was a fictional character, an experience he’d made up in his head a long time ago.

Mor was the one to break the silence. “Welcome home, Cassian,” she said, trying to inject false cheer into her tone, right before Amren stated, “We have a guest.”

He could see that.

“You’re back?” His words, his gaze, all his attention was directed at Nesta and only Nesta.

“I’m back.” Her perfect features stayed frozen in the same expression as she said the words, but it was her voice that shook him most of all. Quiet, almost weak, like she hadn’t spoken aloud for a long time.

He tore his gaze away to look at Feyre, Elain, anybody who would have an explanation. Of course, it was Rhysand who spoke up next. “Nesta has decided that she’s bored of living away from her family. She wants to get to know Nyx— and move back in for good.” To an outsider, Rhys would have sounded calm, if not almost bored, but Cassian had known his brother for long enough to hear the twinge of fury in his words.

“Only until I find a place to stay,” Nesta corrected, which seemed to enrage Rhys even further.

But Cassian couldn’t have given less of a damn about the obvious tension in the room. He was grinning wide. “I see you’re still the sexiest Archeron sister,” he said before stepping around her chair so he could wrap her into a hug.

A few laughs broke throughout the room, and Feyre seemed relieved for Cassian’s lightness. Nesta, however, was stiff in his arms. She pulled away from him with a small smile and a whispered “Thank you” but offered nothing else.

“Feyre.” Nesta turned to her sister like she was the only safety net in the room. Cassian noticed that Elain had been studiously ignoring Nesta the entire time, sitting right next to Azriel but refusing to look at her or say a word. “Can you show me to my room?”

“Of course,” Feyre said hurriedly, coming over to take Nesta by the elbow and lead her out of the overcrowded room. Amren sank deeper into her favorite armchair, a nasty smirk plastered on her face, while everyone else carried varying degrees of bitterness and discomfort in their expressions. Even Azriel, who once had been Nesta’s closest friend, looked like he had no idea what to say about this situation.

Cassian knew Nesta was a prickly topic within their group— she had been since the moment they’d met her. But he couldn’t pretend to be as upset about this unexpected comeback as everyone else was, so he went over to Azriel and kicked him in the shin. “We’re still throwing a welcome home party for me, right?”

“Who else would it be for?” Mor snorted, pushing herself out of her seat. “Let’s just see if Feyre’s mood isn’t ruined by all this.”

They all began to disperse, with Rhysand heading straight for his study and Elain and Azriel disappearing into the back gardens. Cassian found himself back in the foyer, where he finally spied an old blue suitcase that he’d strolled by earlier in his excitement to be back home. A baggage tag hung from the handle, and he went over to it and lifted it up with a single finger.

LAX TO VEL

ARCHERON, NESTA

Los Angeles. His heart picked up a beat at this realization. Had Nesta been a mere few states away for all these years?

There had been no hints that night she’d disappeared, or any of the nights since. Just a numb Feyre relaying to everybody that Nesta had moved away and would be going no-contact with her family, and for them to not search for her.

It’d only been a few weeks that the lack of Nesta— or rather, the lack of explanation about her leaving— felt like a gaping hole in their group. But as the months passed and it became more and more clear that she wouldn’t be calling or coming back, she ended up being smoothly erased from the narrative altogether. They didn’t talk of her, think of her, bring up old photos of her. In the end, it had begun to feel like Nesta was a figment of Cassian’s imagination, like he was the only person on earth left to remember her.

There was an unbearable curiosity within him to find out everything: where Nesta had been, why she had left, why she had returned. He wanted to go to someone and demand answers, but he hardly knew who to ask without getting a knowing look in return. It was a look that implied that Cassian was too interested in Nesta for his own good, as if he was a traitor for not disliking her the way everyone else did.

Cassian made himself let go of the baggage tag. No. He couldn’t toe the line this time, not at the risk of creating a rift in their group. Feyre and Rhys had a kid now, and Nyx needed a happy family to grow up in.

What had happened to Nesta was none of his business.

***

The welcome-back party ended up being not much of a party at all, but an intimate family dinner at an upscale restaurant called The Marchesa. To Cassian’s disappointment, Nesta hadn’t come along.

“She said she didn’t want to intrude and would rather get some rest,” Feyre explained as she wrestled Nyx into a high chair.

Amren snorted. “That’s why you dragged Nyx here instead of letting her babysit him?”

Feyre’s mouth drew into a tight line, and Rhys had an expression to match. Glancing between the two of them, Cassian realized they didn’t trust Nesta with Nyx, despite her bringing toy gifts for the boy earlier and sitting in the game room to watch him play with them.

“It’ll be some time before Nesta is mature enough to watch after a baby herself, I think,” Rhys muttered.

Elain gave a sardonic huff into her wine glass. “If she’s mature enough to survive on her own for years, surely she can handle an infant.”

Already Cassian was forgetting the promise he’d made mere hours ago to not ask any questions. “What was she doing while she was gone? Does anyone know...?”

Mor shook her head, blonde curls flying everywhere. “She won’t tell anybody. That’s what we were interrogating her about before you arrived at the manor.”

“It wasn’t an interrogation,” Feyre said defensively.

“She was a stripper,” Azriel’s soft voice cut through the conversation. All chatter came to a quiet.

“Are you for real?” Mor said.

“How do you know that?” Elain demanded.

Az shrugged as he cut into his filet mignon with precision. “Feyre and Rhys told me not to look for her when she ran away, so I didn’t. It only took a few hours of research after she came back to find out what she’s been up to, though.”

“What else did you find out?” Rhys cut in.

Azriel shrugged. “That’s all there was. Clean record, renting a cheap apartment in the shadiest part of LA.”

“Goddamn.” Mor let out a low whistle.

Feyre looked stunned and upset. “I had no idea… I mean, she still won’t say a single word to me about it.” Her voice weakened on the last word.

Rhys covered her hand with his larger one. “Don’t cry for her, darling,” he murmured, rubbing his thumb soothingly over the back of her hand. “Not when we’re here celebrating. She’s made her own decisions.”

***

It was a Sunday afternoon with only Cassian frequenting the river manor, cautiously watching baby Nyx as he gnawed on the railings of the second floor landing, when Rhys stormed through the foyer below and into the dining room.

“Look what I found in Nesta’s room.” The muffled words floated up to Cassian in Rhysand’s angry low tone, and Cassian instantly moved closer to the railing. 

An exclamation of surprise came from Feyre, but her voice was much softer and the words harder to make out. Cassian strained his ears to hear.

He’d hardly seen anything of Nesta since she’d returned home a week ago, and he’d be lying to himself if he said he was babysitting Nyx at the manor so often only for the little boy’s sake. Since hearing that Nesta had been hiding away as a dancer in LA for the past year and a half, his curiosity had only burned hotter, now impossible to put out. He wanted—needed— to know more about her.

Only whatever heated conversation that Feyre and Rhysand were having about Nesta right now was too muted for Cassian to have a chance at overhearing, and, taking a risk, he swept Nyx into his arms and stood up. Before the baby could start yowling at being taken away from the banister rails, Cassian handed him the bright glowing screen of his phone. Nyx shut up in exchange for inspecting the device in his chubby hands with a focused look of curiosity.

As they crawled down the stairs and down the hallway leading to the dining room, Feyre and Rhysand’s voices grew louder—not because of proximity but because Feyre was getting more distressed about something.

“You shouldn’t have looked through her things, Rhys. We promised we would give her a chance—”

“And look what she’s done with her chance, darling. Look at it. Tell me this is what you want to have in our home, around our baby.”

Cassian stopped several feet beyond the doorway of the dining room, his breath caught in his chest. What could they possibly have been talking about?

“I—She told me she’s never been involved with drugs,” Feyre said, sounding helpless. “How can you be sure…?”

“Adderall, oxy, xanax. You tell me what she’s doing with all these pills, Feyre. You fucking tell me.” 

A long silence, eventually broken by quiet weeping.

In his arms, Nyx had grown bored of Cassian’s phone and threw it to the ground with a shriek. Cassian froze in place for a moment before admitting defeat and stepping into the dining room. 

Neither Rhys nor Feyre would look at him as he approached, but he handed Nyx over to his father anyway. On the dining table, he finally spied what the two of them were so upset about.

Everything that Rhys had listed and more, a variety of colorful pills neatly sorted into small plastic baggies like a cop had planted them. Had she taken all of that through the airport with her or acquired it here?

Despite the severity of the situation, a disbelieving laugh was bubbling low in his chest. Once again he was reminded that he didn’t know a single thing about this woman— not her values, her life, nor her character— and for the first time he asked himself why he even cared so much. What did it matter to him if Nesta Archeron was popping or snorting or injecting every drug under the sun? Why did he feel such a strange grief right now?

Staring down at the table, he put his hands in his pockets and shrugged. “They could be prescription.”

An exasperated sob broke from Feyre.

“Get out, Cassian,” Rhys snarled. 

Meeting his brother’s eyes, Cassian turned somber. “I won’t tell anybody,” he promised.

Rhys looked at him for a long moment before nodding once, then turned to comfort Feyre. It was a clear dismissal.

With a sad sort of resignation, Cassian knew any mistakes made by Nesta wouldn’t be taken as kindly as they had in the past. Rhys was on an arrow-straight path to governor, and he wouldn’t let even a negative news article get in his way, much less a full-blown scandal. These days he demanded perfection from everybody in his life, and that would include Nesta.

Back in the foyer, Cassian stared up the grand staircase toward where he knew Nesta was, unaware of everything taking place in the dining room below her. 

He frowned to himself. Her room was upstairs, yet Rhys had come from his study downstairs. Cassian wondered how long his brother had been sitting on this knowledge and contemplating what to do with it.

***

Life went on as normal and Cassian didn’t hear a peep about Nesta or her drugs for the rest of the week. He stayed true to his promise not to say anything about what he’d seen, and instead fell back into his routine of working through the day and going out with his friends at night. The way everyone else was so eager to ignore Nesta’s existence, it became easy for him to forget she was living at the manor at all. 

Until Friday evening came around, and Rhysand called Cassian into his study while the Inner Circle gathered in the sitting room to share drinks and chat by the fire.

Rhys had been absent from their weekly family dinner that night with an apology about having urgent work to get done, so Cassian was wary about another business-related discussion as he followed Rhys into the study.

The heavy door snicked shut after them and Rhys went to pour each of them a finger of whiskey at his desk. He handed Cassian his tumbler and gestured for him to take a seat in the leather armchair across from him. 

“Don’t tell me you’re sending me away again,” Cassian groaned as he sat. “It’s too close to the holidays.”

Rhysand was silent for a long moment, staring down into his whiskey with a deep furrow in his brow. He twisted the crystal tumbler in his hand and watched the liquid slosh around until he finally said, “Nesta is going to go away for a while.”

At the mention of her name, Cassian felt as if he’d been tossed into a lake of chilled water. “What do you mean?”

“Feyre and I want to keep it as quiet as possible. We’ll send her off without anyone noticing, just for the next year.”

“What do you mean?” Cassian repeated again, because he had less answers now than a few seconds ago.

“What do you think I mean, Cassian?” his brother snapped, growing irritated. “She’s been spending every day under our roof high as a kite. I’m shocked she hasn’t tranq’d herself to death yet. She can’t keep living with us like this, and she certainly can’t be trusted around Nyx. She needs to go away until she’s gotten better. That’s where you come in.”

“So—so you’ve already confronted her about it? Staged an intervention and everything?”

Rhys clenched his jaw and ran two fingers across his upper lip. “Something like that,” he gritted out. “She’s agreed to take up residence in one of my properties up in the mountains for the next twelve months. Then we can reevaluate her role in the family.”

Cassian shook his head hard, still confused. “If she’s abusing drugs, she needs professional help,” he insisted. “She needs to consider a rehab—”

Rhysand’s scowl was so dangerous it cut Cassian off mid-sentence. “And risk the news getting out that Feyre’s sister is a pill-popper? Over my dead body,” he growled.

He threw back a gulp of his whiskey and glanced away. “Besides,” he muttered, “she isn’t an addict.”

Cassian’s mouth dropped open in disbelief. “Then what the hell is she?”

“A fucking flight risk that needs to lay low during this election season.” Rhysand’s eyes burned with a hatred Cassian had never seen before. “I will not have her fuck up everything I’ve worked so hard for right at the start of my campaign. This is my career and my family at stake, Cassian. You know better than anyone how important good PR is.”

Cassian went cold as if all the alcohol had been drained out of his veins. He swallowed without looking at Rhysand. “I do.”

“Nesta knows she fucked up. She’s consented to our plan for her, so you don’t need to get your bleeding heart twisted in knots over this. All you need to do is drive her up there and make sure she’s settled in.”

But no matter how Rhys put it, it seemed far too harsh a punishment for a woman who was clearly ill. Nesta had felt off from the very day she’d returned. After he’d seen the pills they’d found and meticulously researched the purposes and side effects of each one, the thought of leaving Nesta somewhere alone without any help made his stomach turn.

Rhys seemed to be able to read all of this on his face, because his own features softened as he said, “Cassian.”

“What.”

“You’re right that she needs help. This is the help. The plan is in my interests, yes, but it’s in hers more than anything else. The isolation won’t be a punishment. It’ll be her chance to heal.”

When Cassian didn’t say anything, Rhys went on, “My family practically owns the entire mountaintop the house is located on. She’ll be safe from any prying eyes and also will be too far from people to get her hands on any substances. All you need to do is transport her there tomorrow morning and visit twice a month to check in and do a supply restock. I’ve already cleared out your schedule.”

Rhys had clearly had this plan in place for a good while and was only now choosing to let Cassian know about it. Cassian had to clench his glass to hide the trembling of his hands. “What if she hates it up there?” he whispered. “What if she hurts herself?”

“We wouldn’t be doing this if we didn’t have complete trust that she’ll be fine. This isn’t her first episode.”

He met Rhys’s gaze at that. “It isn’t?”

Rhys clenched his jaw and shook his head, the movement tight. “When she ran away two years ago… Trust me, this is nothing in comparison.”

Like he was sinking into a deep sleep, Cassian found himself nodding along to Rhysand’s words. She’s a big girl, a Rhys-sounding voice whispered in his head. She’ll thrive up in the mountains. She’ll get better and come back to you.

Feyre and Elain wouldn’t agree to this unless it was what’s best for her.

Feeling exhausted and weighed down by the endless arguments raging in his head, Cassian finally gave in and said, “You can count on me. I’ll do it.”

As if he had a choice in it.

***

Despite the aching hangover he woke up with the next morning, Cassian obediently got up before the sun had breached the horizon and packed a small bag. He was dressed and ready outside of the river manor by seven in the morning, two steaming cups of coffee waiting in the heated truck behind him. 

His foot tapped a restless beat into the ground as he waited for her. Nesta didn’t always make him this anxious, but whenever she got herself into trouble with his family, there was no other way to feel.

He couldn’t look forward to any of it the way he wanted to: the scenic drive ahead of them, being alone with her, the possibility for conversation. Because he’d been assigned to the role of security guard instead of friend, and she was a prisoner instead of a willing participant.

Not a prisoner, he chastised himself. A patient at best. 

A flight risk at worst, as Rhysand had said. 

His breath halted in his chest when the front doors opened and she finally stepped out.

It was his first time seeing her since the day she returned—not for lack of trying on his part— and she looked… different.

Her face was caked with thick makeup and heavy eyeshadow, the type of face you’d see paired with a skimpy dress against the backdrop of a pricey club. In any other context, the look would have been glamorous, but under the gloomy sky with her unwashed hair and plain jeans, it was almost comical.

Cassian didn’t feel like laughing.

His swallow was tight as he watched her come down the stairs and cross the front lawn. How quickly his joy at her return had turned into regret. The woman in front of him didn’t look like the Nesta he knew at all, and it made him wonder if his friends had been right to be wary of her.

“Where’s your luggage?” was the first thing he asked her.

Idiot. Not even a good morning?

If Nesta noticed, she didn’t care. “Feyre is bringing it.” 

Her voice was the same as before: quiet and hollow. She was looking at him without quite seeing him, as if her eyes were here but her mind was somewhere else.

Cassian wondered if the pills had done that or if this was just who Nesta was after a year and a half away. Before she’d disappeared, when she’d been drinking and fucking through every bar in the city, there was still anger in her. The depression was obvious, yes, but it hadn’t stolen her indignation or her fire. 

This Nesta made him feel like he was handling a ghost. And as one would with the dead, he moved very carefully. Pulled the car door open and gestured for her to get inside. Told her the coffee in the cupholder nearest to her seat was hers. Glanced to make sure the seat warmer was on before shutting the door.

It only occurred to him when Feyre came out a minute later lugging Nesta’s bags that Nesta should have stayed outside to say goodbye to her sister. Although seeing as how she didn’t move or even look in Feyre’s direction from inside the truck, maybe it didn’t matter either way.

Feyre seemed to read the thoughts on his face as he gathered Nesta’s stuff from her. “She isn’t speaking to me,” Feyre said tersely, lips pursed in that way they did when she was trying to hide her disappointment. “I’ve already said what I have to say.” 

Although they hadn’t talked about it, he was certain that Feyre was furious at how everything was playing out. Her sister had abandoned her family just as Feyre had gotten pregnant after years of trying, putting a damper on what should’ve been the happiest time of Feyre’s life, and had returned out of the blue just to get herself sent away again. Because she was abusing drugs apparently. Because she was unfit to be around her baby nephew, because she was deeply unwell and it would risk everything Rhysand had worked so hard to build for them.

Yes, Cassian could see why Feyre was pissed. 

He leaned in and gave his friend the biggest hug he could manage. “Everything’s gonna get better, Feyre. You just need to be patient.”

“I’ve waited years already,” she whined into the thick material of his jacket. 

He imagined the wait had been even harder for Nesta. He really hoped this plan worked, for Nesta’s sake more than Feyre’s or anyone else’s. 

Releasing Feyre, he gave her a kiss on the cheek, ruffled her hair, and promised to be back by evening. 

She didn’t stay to watch them drive off, instead turning and walking safely back into the warmth of the manor. 

Inside the truck, not even the low buzz of the radio and blast of the heaters could drown out the awkwardness in the air. Not that Nesta likely felt it, or if she did she didn’t care.

He pondered for a long time on how to break the silence as he pulled out of the manor driveway and onto the road. “You don’t want your coffee?” he finally said.

He’d made it just the way she liked it, but she hadn’t touched her thermos at all.

“I’m going to sleep,” Nesta announced, then pulled out a pair of headphones and slid them over her ears. 

Cassian didn’t know whether to be relieved or disappointed. “I brought a pillow and blanket; it’s in the backseat if you want to grab them.”

“I’m fine.” And then she turned her head away and closed her eyes, or at least did the best she could with her bulky headphones on.

He settled in for the six hour drive ahead of him.

Nesta slowly woke up as the sun climbed higher in the sky, dozing in and out of sleep until she finally came to full awareness around eleven. 

“You’re up,” Cassian greeted. “In the mood for an early lunch?”

He watched from the corner of his eye as she touched her ears, still red and irritated from pressing against the headphones that had clattered to the ground a while back.

Stifling a yawn, she stretched her arms out and nodded. Cassian swallowed tightly and refocused on the road, not wanting to look at her while she looked so soft and flushed.

Before her father had died, there had been— a hint of something. A mutual attraction that he might’ve been delusional enough to hope would actually lead somewhere. Until she’d crushed that delusion on that Christmas night two years ago; until her drinking had gotten worse; until she’d retreated from everyone in the Inner Circle so completely that it was as if that something had never existed at all.

It would be beyond inappropriate to remember that something now. So he kept his eyes on the road and asked where she wanted to eat.

She said she didn’t care.

He didn’t know if the untouchable Nesta Archeron even ate at fast food places, much less had a favorite place to go to, so he pulled into the first burger joint he saw on the road. Ordered through the drive-thru and ate in the parking lot, warm and cozy in the truck while the world outside them froze.

When Nesta wrapped up her half-eaten burger and fries and began to put them away, Cassian stopped her with a look. “You have to eat, Nesta,” he said gently. “I know you didn’t have breakfast.” He couldn’t exactly envision her making herself toast and cereal at the crack of dawn right before she got kicked out of the manor.

Nesta’s eyes snapped up to him with a glare. “I’m not a child.”

“But you are starving.” He almost reached out to poke one of the many bones jutting through her thin sweater. She’d looked healthier than he’d ever seen her on the day of her return, although that hadn’t been saying much. Now it was evident that the past few days had been hard on her, almost stripping her entirely of whatever progress she’d made while she was in California.

Nesta threw the rest of her food back into the bag with unnecessary force. “I’ll eat it later.”

Cassian had to bite his tongue from quipping that it would be cold by then, deciding to let it go. Besides, it was the most emotion she’d shown all day, which was a win in his book.

He took this victory back onto the road with him; as he drove he carefully contemplated what he wanted to say to her next.

“Rhys told me you agreed to all of this.” The words took their time to hang in the air before he said, “Why?”

For a minute, he was certain Nesta wasn’t going to answer. 

“What choice did I have?” she finally spoke.

Cassian worked his jaw, seriously considering her question. “You could go back to LA,” he tried.

She was looking down at her hands when she said, “No I can’t.”

“Stripper money isn’t paying the rent anymore?” He instantly regretted the words, his mouth trying to pick a fight before his brain could stop him. He clearly thought having an angry Nesta in his truck was better than having a numb one, but that was no excuse. “Sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean…”

Only Nesta wasn’t angry or defensive or any of the things that she should have been— she just remained silent, continuing to contemplate her hands. 

His stomach dropped and guilt ratcheted into his throat, wishing he’d just left her alone. 

So his hands jerked on the steering wheel a little when he heard her whisper, “I agreed for Feyre.”

He looked over at her. She was picking the skin on her palms—did she have calluses?— looking completely disinterested despite the gravity of her statement. 

“Why?” he had to ask. From previous experience, Nesta didn’t tend to be concerned about how her actions affected her sisters, especially not Feyre.

“Because she deserves it.” Nesta’s voice was hoarse from disuse. “She deserves the beautiful house and beautiful family and a future as First Lady of the United States or whatever. I didn’t want to get in the way of that anymore.”

Cassian was at a loss for words. He never would have thought Nesta cared like that.

“You aren’t in the way,” he said after a long stretch of silence. “Feyre loves you and would rather you be home with her than anything else. It’s just…”

“Election season, right?” she muttered wryly. His stupid heart stuttered at her bitter smile even as he realized with despondency that she didn’t believe his words at all.

“It’s a complicated situation right now,” he tried to explain. “This is the solution that works best for everyone involved.” 

Well, everyone except for Cassian, who would have to make this hellish drive at least twice a month to make sure Nesta didn’t go stir-crazy a la The Shining.

The question was sudden, as if she hadn’t heard what he’d said at all: “Would you believe me if I told you they were prescription pills?” 

He gave her a look that was a cross between pitying and disbelieving. “In plastic baggies?”

She pressed her lips together and looked away, her eyes deadening once again. “That’s a no, then.”

Cassian hated that look in her eyes, like nothing and no one mattered to her. He almost backtracked and told her he believed her just to get that look to vanish.

But that would be lying, and it wouldn’t solve the root of Nesta’s problem. Not at all.

Taking in a short breath, Cassian refocused on the road. “I don’t care what you do with that stuff, Nesta. It’s Nyx that you need to think about. If you won’t do this for yourself, do it for—”

“Please,” Nesta cut him off, and it was more of a choked noise than a word. Cassian blinked in surprise at the unexpected emotion, looking between Nesta and the road.

“Stop talking,” she continued, her voice strung out and strained. “Stop talking about everything.”

The order was so raw that it wasn’t really a choice for Cassian to not follow it. “Okay,” he stuttered out, then moved to turn the radio up, just enough to drown out the tension in the truck.

They were in the final stretch of the journey now. After a while longer Cassian could see the mountain that would be Nesta’s new home, snow and ice crusting the majority of it this late into the year.  The drive to the top looked far longer than he thought it’d be, and he had a hard time imagining Nesta staying all the way up there by herself.

A rest stop came into view as they arrived at the base of the mountain. Rhysand hadn’t been lying when he said that Nesta would be far away from any people; the nearest town was maybe thirty minutes away from this isolated gas station, and it wouldn’t be a fun distance to cover on the uneven roads.

Rhysand had also assured Cassian that he’d already sent someone ahead a week ago— a week ago— to stock the mountain lodge with food and supplies, but knowing Rhys, Cassian doubted that there’d be a sizable snack collection up there. 

“Alright, break time.” Cassian turned into the small parking lot. “Use the bathroom if you have to and buy whatever you want for the next week.” That’d be the next time Cassian would drive back here to check in on her, making sure she wasn’t trying to hurt herself in her solitude.

Nesta didn’t hesitate to unbuckle her seatbelt and shove out of the truck. He jogged after her, about to hold the gas station door open for her when his eyes landed on her bare neck.

His blood ran cold.

“Who did that to you?” 

Nesta’s brow furrowed slightly at his growled question. She followed his gaze downward, to where her scarf had unraveled from her throat somewhere along the drive. Her features went stiff and she moved to rewrap the scarf, only for her wrists to be pushed back by Cassian. 

“I mean it. What the fuck happened to you?” he restated fiercely.

The clear shape of a handprint bruised her throat in splotchy red and purple. It looked fresh. He couldn’t take his eyes off of it, so ugly and wrong against the rest of her fair skin.

Nesta’s mouth curved into a sneer when he wouldn’t let go of her. “Where do you think it’s from, idiot? Sex. Ever heard of it?” She jerked away from him and flung her scarf back in place to hide her throat.

Cassian felt numb, cold and confused all over. The handprint was startlingly recent and violently dark. He couldn’t wrap his head around the thought of Nesta going out and having rough, animalistic sex while her family fell apart deciding how to help her. While Feyre sobbed herself to sleep over losing her oldest sister for the second time in a row.

Nesta’s flustered anger smoothed into a cruel smirk when Cassian didn’t say anything. “Don’t tell me you still have a virgin complex about me. Does it hurt to find out I like it hard and rough?”

Cassian blinked once, twice, then shook his head slowly. “No, Nesta,” he said. “It hurts to find out that you aren’t taking this seriously at all.”

“And what is this?” She suddenly stepped into his chest, so close he could smell the faded perfume that clung to her sweater. “Say the word for what it is, Cassian. How would you describe what you’re doing to me right now? Exile? Imprisonment?”

“A sabbatical.”

She threw her head back and laughed, and the startling sound almost distracted him from again catching the purple bruise peeking out from her scarf. 

“I’m serious.” He had to be serious, because the alternative was that Rhysand and Feyre didn’t care for Nesta’s wellbeing at all, and he refused to believe that. For all the issues they had had with her, he refused to believe that.

Her laugh cut off sharply and her face went suddenly blank. “You’re blind.” She looked like she wanted to add something else, but kept her mouth shut and moved past him, entering the gas station alone.

Cassian was left standing outside in the freezing cold, wondering who the hell Nesta Archeron really was and what she was doing here.

After using the bathroom and paying for Nesta’s things (she’d left a pile of snacks and puzzle workbooks at the register for him to check out), he exited the gas station to find her leaning against the hood of his truck with her fast food leftovers.

She munched on cold fries while staring off into the distance, not even glancing Cassian’s way as he approached her. “The sun sets a lot quicker these days,” he told her, although there’d been no sun in the sky at all today. “Let’s get moving so we can get you settled in before it’s fully dark.” And so he could get home before it was too late. 

His phone chose just that moment to ring. Shuffling the bags of Nesta’s snacks around so he could dig into his pocket, he pulled out his cell and glanced at the screen. It was Azriel. 

He picked up. “What’s up?”

“You need to come home. Now.” His brother’s voice was dark over the line.

Cassian’s hackles raised. “What happened? Why?”

“I can’t say over the phone. It’s not good. Is Nesta settled at the lodge yet?”

“We aren’t even there yet,” Cassian replied. “We took a break so we’re behind on schedule.”

Azriel cursed softly. “How far behind?”

“Less than an hour.”

“That’s too far. Figure out a way to get home this instant.”

“What about—”

“I don’t care, Cassian. Feyre and the family need you. Get home now.” The shadowed threat in his tone lingered long after he hung up. 

Cassian put the phone down and looked toward Nesta, who was still picking absently at her fries. “I’m so sorry,” were his first words to her.

She looked up at that. “What is it?”

“I— I have to go now. There’s been an emergency and Az isn’t telling me what it is.”

“Is it about Feyre?” 

She was too damn perceptive. But he couldn’t let her worry, if that was something she was even planning on doing. “I don’t know anything yet,” he said honestly. “But I need to speed home now.” His brain scrambled for a way to get Nesta to the lodge and himself back to Velaris at the same time. Nesta was clearly thinking the same thing.

“I’ll call you a ride,” he decided. “Someone in the nearest town should be available to drive you up there.”

“You’re going to make me get in some random person’s car?” She didn’t sound angry or worried—just blunt— but the question pushed all the wrong buttons anyway. 

“Considering all the other ways you’re willing to endanger your life, this shouldn’t be too hard for you,” he retorted with a raised brow. “Come on, get your bags while I find somebody. Please.”

He was abandoning her. He was abandoning her and he hated it, because Cassian never left people stranded. He wouldn’t even leave a one-night stand without making her breakfast first. 

But family came first, and if Azriel had refused to speak of whatever the emergency was over the phone, that meant it was too important to risk prying ears. 

In the end, he had to watch Nesta’s figure turn smaller and smaller in his rearview mirror as he drove off. 

She was standing outside the gas station with her belongings and waiting for her rideshare to arrive.

***

Her doctor had forbidden her from any more Adderall, among a couple other things, which Nesta couldn’t really complain about. Taking too many medicines had inhibited the effectiveness of all of them, and she could stand to sacrifice a few drugs if it meant she got to keep the important ones.

She forced herself to leave her room and go downstairs despite every protesting bone in her body. It wasn’t that she objected to starving herself indefinitely, but that Rhysand’s threats rang in her ears of what he’d do if he ever found her in less than good health. 

Getting sent back to Los Angeles would be a fate worse than death. Worse than her entire family finding out about her dirty sins.

If her reactions weren’t so delayed due to her brain fog, she would have jumped at the realization that the downstairs wasn’t empty. 

“You’re still here?” she addressed Cassian, whose back was turned to her as he stoked the living area’s fireplace.

He dropped the poker and whirled around with wide eyes. “Jesus, you’ve got quiet feet.”

Still in her bathrobe, she suddenly felt too exposed in front of this man. Even though he’d bathed her naked body just a few hours ago. Even though he’d used to find her at her slummy apartment half-dressed and missing her underwear.

He seemed to think along similar lines. “Why didn’t you change into the clothes I laid out? It’s too cold at night not to be wearing something thick.”

Nesta was too taken aback by him rummaging through her luggage and organizing her things to explain that changing outfits required an energy she didn’t currently have. But he was right that it was cold, because she found her feet leading her to the blazing fireplace against her will. She took a seat on the ground, as close as she could get to the fireplace while maintaining a distance from him, and stuck her toes out toward the fire. 

Cassian carefully cleared his throat and spoke again. “I wanted to be with you when you woke up, but it seemed like you planned to sleep for a long time, so I got up and started fixing up the house.” He picked up the poker and continued stoking the fire. “Are you sure you rested long enough? You seemed pretty out of it earlier today.”

Nesta internally flinched at the reminder of how she’d been in front of him. Still, she gathered the voice to answer, “I can’t sleep in long stretches. This is all I’m getting.”

He hummed in acknowledgement, staring into the fire with her. After a moment he said, “Both the fireplaces were untouched when I got here. Have you been staying here in the freezing cold for the last week?”

Yes. “I don’t know how to work a wood-burning fireplace.” Her admission came out in a whisper. She’d only ever handled those gas ones that went on and off with the flip of a switch. And even then, what kind of person didn’t just use central heating?

“Well, we’ll definitely have to change that,” he muttered.

A spark flew out from the fire and landed on her ankle, stinging for a millisecond before dissipating into nothing.

Cassian got up and walked away. Without turning her head, she heard him go up the stairs and return a few seconds later. He dropped some clothes onto the floor beside her. 

Nesta looked at the thick pair of socks, sighed, and reached over to pull them on. After a minute of consideration, she pulled the flannel pants on, too. 

“What do you want to eat for dinner?” he asked her as she readjusted her robe around herself.

For the first time in days, her stomach didn’t churn at the thought of food. But that didn’t mean she wanted Cassian sticking around to hand-feed her. “You can get going now. I can take care of myself from here.”

His lip curled wryly as if she’d said something funny. “It’s almost ten p.m. Where am I gonna go at this hour?”

She didn’t have the energy to scowl, though she wanted to. “Go home.” 

He shook his head. “I don’t think so. I’m staying the whole weekend, sweetheart.”

That made her finally snap her head up to face him directly. “No you aren’t,” she seethed. 

He held his hands up in defense. “I know, I know, you asked to be up here alone.” He winced as if the fact hurt him. “But it’s just for a few days and I’m not in the mood for a fight, so I suggest sucking it up and telling me what you want for dinner.”

Nesta imagined opening her mouth to order Cassian out of the house—her house. She imagined standing up for herself, imagined fighting him back and winning. 

And then she imagined losing.

Her stiff shoulders drooped. Blinking, she turned back to face the warmth of the fire. “I don’t care what we eat.”

“That’s what you always say,” he tried to push. “You have to care about something eventually.”

No. She didn’t.

***

She was deeply changed from the woman that Cassian had used to know. 

Very occasionally, he managed to pull her old cruelty out of her, but for the most part Nesta was haunted and reserved in a way that was completely different from her drunkard days. 

On his second day at the lodge, Cassian had tried goading her into a fight just to see if a spark of life could be found in her, but upon failing he wasn’t able to stomach trying again. It felt too much like a joke bombing in front of a dead crowd: pitiful for the both of them.

By the time Saturday rolled around, he was growing restless. He’d organized everything there was to organize in the house. He’d carefully monitored Nesta as she followed her treatment plan, making sure she took her meds at the right hour on the dot, counting her pills after she fell asleep every night to confirm nothing was missing or left behind. There was a sunroom attached to the back of the house with a functioning Jacuzzi in the center, and he’d even cleaned that out and gotten it to start working again. 

He needed to leave the house.

He didn’t know how Nesta could stay upstairs in her bed all day. She’d already rejected his offers to go on a walk or visit the gas station, so he needed to think of something different.

He tried of think of what the lodge was missing. There was semi-functioning Internet, but no television, and many shelves but no games or books. Other than the Jacuzzi, the house lacked a single entertaining thing to do.

He knocked loudly on Nesta’s bedroom door. “Nesta?” he called out. “Can I come in?”

No answer, which he took as another I don’t care. He entered the room to find her sitting in her rocking chair and staring out at the blinding white mountainside through the window. 

“Hey, did you bring any books with you when you came here?” He already knew the answer since he’d gone through all her bags while unpacking them, but he wanted to give her something to say.

She didn’t look away from the window. “No.”

“Then let’s go buy some.” He didn’t frame it as a question that she could say no to. “Get ready and meet me downstairs in five.” He turned around and left.

She was going to go out whether she wanted to or not. He just wanted to see if she would do it on her own first. He dared to hope that her interest in books would convince her.

In the end, it took her fifteen minutes to meet him at the front door. He’d been losing all hope when she finally appeared on the stairs, in jeans and a nice buttoned sweater with her hair pulled into a tight knot, and then he’d grinned so widely he thought his face would split apart.

He was still feeling triumphant on the drive to the nearest town over, humming softly under his breath. “The lodge usually gets snowed in for a few weeks at least once every year, so now’s the time to get out of the house before peak winter comes in. The town we’re going to is too small to offer anything exciting, but it has the necessities— a grocery, a couple of restaurants, basic goods stores,” he babbled.

“Okay,” she said, watching the scenery as they drove by.

He nodded to himself. Okay it was.

“I can carry them for you,” he said at the bookstore later, concerned by the growing stack of novels in her arms. 

“No thanks.” Nesta seemed content just to be holding the books, her thumbs brushing along the sides of them as she continued browsing. 

Considering how remote the town was, Cassian hadn’t expected this place to have any kind of great reading collection, but Nesta was somehow an expert at finding and collecting what she liked— recent mainstream stuff along with some older hidden gems.

Eventually the stack really did get too big for her to carry, so he slid some books off of her pile without another word. He picked up the novel on the top and studied it. It was labeled a dark romance, whatever that meant, but the synopsis on the back didn’t tell him much about the plot.

He opened to the first page and raised his brows at the extensive list of trigger warnings. “Are you really into this stuff?” he said, flipping through the rest of the book. “Stalking, knifeplay, rape-but-not-technically-rape?” He wanted to get an idea of her tastes without judging, but it was difficult when every new thing she revealed about herself was a total surprise. 

“No,” she answered simply, even as she inspected another book that had a similar cover to the one he was holding. 

“Then why are you reading them?”

She put the book down and wandered into the literary fiction section instead; he trailed after her. “Because I keep hoping it’ll turn out different,” she said. “I read about horrible men because I want them to surprise me and turn out to be nice. I want the romance to turn out to be soft.”

Cassian whipped his head up to look at her. He hadn’t actually expected her to answer his question, yet that might have been the longest response he’d gotten from her… ever. “Why not just read another genre?”

She trailed her fingers across the spine of a tattered edition of The Hobbit. They were pretty fingers, he thought. Elegant like a piano player’s. “I like the idea of a bad guy going good for his girl,” she said.

“But if it never happens, why waste your time with all these books?” He gestured to the stack in her arms.

She raised a brow at him. “I’m stupid.”

The bluntness of her statement made him give a startled laugh. “I find that hard to believe, but okay.” When he moved to return the book to the stack, she startled him again by saying, “Why don’t you read that one now and tell me how it ends? Save me from wasting my time.”

He fumbled to open the book again. “Yes ma’am.”

So he followed her through the store as she collected more novels, trying to skim through the book in his hands and watch his step at the same time. 

“I don’t read much, but this all looks terrible to me,” he told her honestly after flipping through at least five different parts of the book. The writing, the characters, the dialogue, all seemed too egregiously low-quality for someone like Nesta to be reading. He eyed her with concern. What if her knife-sharp brain was dumbed down by this stuff? 

No, that wasn’t possible. If abusing drugs couldn’t do it, then some questionable books definitely wouldn’t.

“Specify what’s terrible,” she hummed. She was crouched on the floor by a table full of books now, resting her body while she flipped through a poetry book. “Most romance is an acquired taste. We probably won’t have the same standards.”

Something low in Cassian’s stomach tingled warmly at her voice— at the fact that she was speaking to him willingly in the first place, and giving him orders at that. 

He cleared his throat and willed the flush in his cheeks away. “Why don’t you tell me what you like to read about first? Then I can tell you if this has that.” 

Again, he didn’t know a single thing about her beyond the fact that her apartment from a few years ago had been crawling with romance books, smutty and clean alike. He knew because he’d peeked over her shoulder more than once while she’d read them to piss her off.

“Tell me if they’re kind to each other,” she said, sitting down fully on the ground now so she could stretch her legs out. “At least at the end of the book.”

Cassian furrowed his brow and flipped to where she’d directed him. It was a rough sex scene with dialogue, except only the man was speaking and the woman was just sort of laying there and taking it. There didn’t seem to be much affection to it. “Hm.”

“Is that a yes or no?”

“What’s another thing that you like to read about?” he redirected.

“Can the woman defend her boundaries? Can he respect her? Can they be friends with each other?”

Cassian read a seventh excerpt from the book just to be sure. “No.”

Nesta rolled her eyes from the floor— a surprisingly adorable expression that made him wish he hadn’t seen it. “Put it up, then,” she said. 

He tossed the book onto the table she was leaning against, though he still carried three other romance books in his free hand. “What now? Should we go through the rest?”

Nesta sighed as she scanned the bookshelves in front of her. “No point in being picky. I live on a mountaintop in the middle of nowhere now.”

Cassian didn’t know why it annoyed him so much to hear that— it was only the obvious truth, even if it wasn’t ideal. But that reminded him— “We need movies.”

“To watch on what TV?”

Damn, she was right. “How about games?” he tried.

“Will I be playing against myself?” she said with acidity cutting through her usual monotone.

“We can play when I visit, obviously.”

She stared him down with an icy gaze. “So my new life revolves around waiting for you to visit me so we can play second-hand board games. Is it too late to kill myself?”

He gave her an alarmed look. “Yes it is.” Perhaps he would hold off on buying the board games for now, though.

Nesta’s mood was clearly soured by the fact that she was stuck living alone in the mountain house, which was why Cassian didn’t understand her refusal to leave it. On their way to the checkout line, he hesitantly brought up the topic for the second time that weekend. “If you don’t think the lodge is helping you, why don’t you come back home? We can work out something else for you.”

“Something else like what?” She stopped and turned to glare at him. “Do you and Rhysand have something worse for me planned in mind?”

“What? No—” he spluttered. 

“No matter what, you aren’t going to let me live in Velaris where my family is.” Her eyes burned with familiar fire. “So what is it to you how I get to recover?” She spat the last word out mockingly. 

“You know it isn’t up to me,” he tried to explain. “I just want something better for you than that stupid lodge—”

“And how would you know what’s better for me?” she sneered. “You don’t know a single thing about me or my situation, Cassian. You’re just the help. You’re my weekend chaperone so I don’t end up dead all by myself— that doesn’t mean you get to have an opinion about my life.”

He took a step back from her in surrender, his gaze dropping to the ground. “Alright. I got it.”

It was difficult to get upset at her words when they were so justified, but Cassian managed to feel hurt anyway. He didn’t understand what had gone wrong. They’d been doing so well— she’d seemed like she was feeling better, and now it was unraveling all over again. One thing was clear, though: that bastard Rhys had been right. Nesta wasn’t going to abandon the lodge anytime soon, no matter how torturous she found it. 

As they checked out her sizable pile of books at the register, he spotted her eyeing a small framed poster of a rugged nature scene. Despite it being spring in the photo, the mountainous location seemed to be much farther up north than where they were now. The title at the bottom declared THE YUKON. 

“You want that?” he asked her. She didn’t say anything and refocused on the books being bagged in front of her. He pointed to the poster behind the counter and told the cashier, “Can you add that, too?”

From his peripheral vision, he thought he saw Nesta flinch. 

***

“Where do you want to go next?”

Nesta looked pointedly at the town square they were in, surrounded by approximately five buildings and nothing else. “Gee, where do I start?”

“Okay, smartass,” he said, but he was biting back a smile. After getting her books and poster, her irritation seemed to have melted away, and he was eager to keep her this content for the rest of the day. “Let’s go thrift shopping,” he suggested. Girls liked that, right?

They both narrowed in on the building across the main street that said USED GOODS in plain white lettering. Nesta made a face. “You call that a thrift shop?”

“We can look through the belongings of all the old people that have died in this town.” It came out sounding less exciting than he wanted it to.

Despite Nesta’s reluctance, they ended up killing an hour at the thrift shop. Much like with the bookstore, Nesta had a knack for finding the things she liked among a sea of junk— in this case, it was vintage sweaters. 

He remembered unpacking and putting away her clothes, all of them modest yet suited to Nesta’s unique style. It didn’t match the image one would have of a substance-abusing stripper at all, and yet that was apparently who Nesta had been while she’d been away.

Watching her hold a knit vest printed with cats against her chest, Cassian felt that surge of curiosity in him again. He wanted to know more about her personal style. He wanted to know whether life in LA had been easier than Velaris or harder. He wanted to know if anyone had looked out for her while she’d lived alone in California, if she still had that little drinking problem or if it had dwindled away over the years. He wanted to know what her favorite books were and why.

But he couldn’t ask her any of these things, because he wasn’t a stranger that had noticed her from across the bar or a coworker with an office crush. He was Rhys’s lackey first and foremost, Feyre’s best friend second, and then…after going down the long list of people that Cassian owed his loyalty to, only then was he a man who was utterly enchanted by the woman across from him.

He picked up a brown zip-up with an interesting pattern, wondering if it would fit into Nesta’s tastes as well. “What about this?” He flipped it over to show it to her.

Though it was still difficult to pull more than two or three expressions out of Nesta, he could’ve sworn her eyes slightly widened with delight. “Wow,” she drawled, taking the sweater from him. “Maybe you aren’t totally useless after all.”

The compliment affected his pulse more than it should have.

But Nesta soon ran out of things to look at— this town could only offer so much— so he said, “Let’s go to the diner for a late lunch.”

Cassian was delaying returning to the lodge, he knew. There were only so many opportunities he could get to show Nesta around like this, and every minute she wasn’t spending in her room was a victory to him. 

Nesta just shrugged and said, “Whatever you want.”

They stopped at the truck to drop off her shopping and walked down the block to one of the three food establishments in town. Inside the diner, peeling vinyl booths and faded checkered flooring greeted them, like stepping into a time capsule from decades ago.

Nesta turned her nose up at every booth they passed, until finally reaching one at the back that seemed clean enough for her standards. They sat across each other and Cassian pulled a sticky menu toward himself.

“Shake and burger combo?” he suggested. He expected her to give her usual I don’t care, but she shook her head and grumbled, “Sounds like a digestive nightmare.” 

He bit back a smile and offered the menu for Nesta to inspect. She squinted at everything, not seeming to find a single thing appetizing, until finally saying, “I’ll have water and a side salad.”

Any amusement slid off his face. “Do you really want to get better, Nesta?”

“Excuse me?”

“I mean it,” he said, leaning across the table to look into her eyes. “Are you really here to heal, or just kill time before you’re allowed to come back home?”

She met him with a fiery glare and hissed, “You think I want to be like this?” 

“No. Which is why you need food, Nesta. Nutrients.” He’d only gotten her to eat a couple of solid meals in the few short days he’d been at the cabin. Everything else had gotten thrown up or thrown in the trash, and he no longer believed it was a physical reaction more than a psychological one. He just needed to figure out how to get around the mental block that was hindering her. 

“At least add some fries,” he tried. 

She shook her head. “The smell of grease makes me sick.” 

It hadn’t been a problem just a week ago when they’d had burgers together, but he didn’t mention that. “If you’re not ready for a full meal yet, then I’m going to order for myself and you’re going to share off my plate. Fair enough?”

She still looked unhappy but reluctantly nodded. Perfect.

Despite everything smelling and looking delicious, Nesta couldn’t hide her disgust once the food and drinks arrived. 

“Relax, it’s not for you,” Cassian told her.

That seemed to ease her up, and her disgust gradually melted into curiosity. “What kind of sandwich is that?”

“Turkey.” He’d purposely ordered things that were plain but not too bland, not wanting her stomach to be upset by either too many flavors or none at all. He took half the sandwich and placed it on an extra plate before sliding it over to her. 

She stared at it for a long time, her features not revealing anything. Cassian continued to eat off his own plate while he waited for her to make a move. 

After about a minute, she finally pinched off a corner of the sandwich and brought it to her mouth. Tried to smell it, immediately regretted it, and shoved it into her mouth before she could change her mind. 

“How do you feel?” He watched her carefully for signs of sickness.

She sighed through her nose while chewing. “I miss eating.”

His heart was splintering. He didn’t know how Nesta had ever reached this point— knew that it had all been kicked off by her father’s death, but didn’t have the slightest idea of all that had happened between then and now.

“Once your stomach gets better, I’ll make you a feast,” he promised. “I’m a really good cook, too, so you can look forward to it.”

“Are you?”

“I am,” he insisted. “You wouldn’t know, of course. Your sense of taste is all messed up right now.”

Nesta still looked doubtful, but she didn’t push the topic. She never pushed anything, really, and it was usually up to Cassian to keep their conversations going. For now, though, he just let her continue picking at her sandwich. When she was almost finished with it and still looking fine, he passed over the side salad she’d asked for next.

It was a slow, tedious process to get her to eat, but Cassian had plenty of time. He even ate at the same pace as her so she wouldn’t be left behind, though he felt like a starving man being fed one grain of rice at a time. 

“Do you like cats?” he suddenly asked in the middle of dipping a fry into his milkshake. 

“What?” 

He scratched the back of his neck and shrugged. “I could get you a cat. So you don’t have to be alone at the house.”

Nesta gave him the flat stare she only ever used when someone said something idiotic. “Do I look like someone who can take care of a cat right now?” 

“Maybe not right now,” he argued. “But one day, yes. I think you’d like having a cat. You remind me of one.”

“I don’t want a fucking cat, Cassian.” 

The sound of his name on her lips made him stop stirring his milkshake halfway. It certainly wasn’t her first time saying it, but it happened so rarely that it took him by surprise a little bit every time. Like having a valuable gift dropped straight into his lap.

“Alright, fine,” he conceded. “Try my milkshake.” He stuck the straw in her face before she could get snippy again.

She turned him down, of course, but by the end of the meal he was more than satisfied with how much she’d eaten. Not only satisfied, but deeply proud. He could only pray that her stomach would be okay for the rest of the night.

After paying and leaving a generous tip, they headed back through the main square for the place they’d left the truck. 

Evening was quickly coming in now, but Cassian was still dragging his feet at the thought of returning to the lodge. “Want to visit the grocery store next? We can look at fruits and vegetables.”

“I know you’re rich, but all the money you’re spending today is ridiculous.” Nesta said it like she hadn’t been the one buying everything. 

Cassian snorted. “Baby, this is Rhys’s business card. Spend away.” 

Nesta’s energy visibly diminished at the mention of Rhysand. “I don’t want his money,” she said quietly. “We can go home now.”

“His bank account won’t be hurt by it,” he tried to assure her. “Really, you don’t need to feel bad about some shopping.”

Nesta smirked as they arrived at the truck, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “I remember him throwing quite the fit when I spent five hundred dollars on drinks in one night once.” 

Cassian’s jaw dropped open. “You spent five hundred dollars only on drinks? It’s my first time hearing about this.”

Her smile vanished so quickly it made him doubt that it had been there at all. “I don’t want to talk about it.” She pulled the truck door open.

“You’re the one who brought it up first,” Cassian tried to say, but Nesta was already inside the truck and shutting the door on him. 

That marked the end of their grand day out, for Nesta was quiet the entire ride back to the lodge.

***

Sunday rolled around and brought with it sunshine and a cloudless sky.

It also brought Nesta out of her bedroom before noon, a feat so rare that it had him staring at her from across the kitchen in awe.

“You’re leaving today, right?” she asked him as she sliced a banana into bite-sized pieces. She would slice and pop a piece straight into her mouth, which seemed like a lot of work compared to eating a banana normally, but he never could understand how her thought process worked.

Cassian refocused on her question. Rhys had ordered him to be back in Velaris by tonight, yes. But what he ended up saying was, “I’m going tomorrow morning. Someone needs to eat dinner with you or you’ll starve again.”

Nesta narrowed her eyes at him. “That isn’t necessary.”

“I’ll be meal prepping, too,” he continued, ignoring her. “Give me a list of what you’d like to eat by noon, please and thank you.” 

Cassian knew his efforts were the equivalent of an umbrella in a hurricane. What Nesta needed wasn’t meal-prepping, but a full-time doctor or counselor to supervise her health. Not a single other person seemed to agree with him, though, least of all Nesta.

The firewood storage stood off to the side of the lodge, a short walk away. Cassian was lugging an armful of logs with him when he found Nesta standing on the back porch in only her pajamas with no outerwear. “Put a jacket on,” he scolded from afar.

She didn’t move as he got close enough to see her clearly. “What is it?” he said, climbing the porch steps to meet her.

“I looked up and you were gone.”

Cassian raised both brows at that. It was an effort not to smile. “Why? Did you think I left without telling you?”

She frowned and he could’ve sworn there was a little indignation to the expression. “No,” she said.

“You did,” he insisted, teasing now. “You got scared.” 

The indignation was undeniable now, her lovely neck reddening in proof of her irritation. “I did not,” she hissed. “I’d only be thrilled if you left early.”

He smirked in response. “Thrilled is a big emotion coming from you. Now I know I definitely gave you a fright.”

He was still grinning as he set the stack of wood he had down in a corner of the porch. Though most of the lodge was humble, or as humble as Rhysand’s money could get, a lot had been spent on the back portion of the house: the sizable sunroom with the hot tub as a centerpiece, the massive fire pit with seating in the backyard, the cozy porch with a view of the expansive white grounds.

“I would never abandon you,” he went on as he turned back around to face her, more serious now. “That’s not something you’ll ever have to worry about, Nesta.”

 Her face was now taking on the familiar shade of pink it did when she got angry. “The only thing I worry about is you clinging to me every time you come up here. I only wish you would leave, Cassian. It’s been days already.”

Cassian had a difficult time believing her words as much as she did, and it brought a mirthful tremble to his lips that seemed to enrage her even more. Nesta crouched down to the ground.

He was already walking away to get more wood. “You keep telling yourself that, sweet—”

Something wet and cold smacked him directly in the back of the head, shutting him up mid-sentence.

Very slowly, he turned around to face her. “Did you just hit me with a snowball?”

She already was packing another one in her bare hands— she’d get frostbite, he worried to himself— and in answer threw it at him again. He dodged it easily, which didn’t make her happy at all. “What is wrong with you?” he demanded.

“You’re what’s wrong with me, asshole.” In only her pajamas and slippers, she suddenly ran at him. Cassian being double her size, the only reason he hit the ground was that he happened to be standing on a patch of ice that slid out from beneath his feet as she tackled him. 

He made an oof of surprise as his head hit the ground, and before he had any idea what was going on, Nesta was pelting him with handfuls of snow from above. In his face, down his jacket, even soaking through his jeans. “So—fucking—sick of you,” she said with every hit. “Egotistical male troglodyte thinks I can’t live without him.”

Cassian choked, both at the words and the snow being shoved into his open mouth.

Yes, his blood hummed. This was who Nesta really was: persistent, aggressive, passionate. The complete opposite of the nonchalant facade she typically wore.

He was insanely attracted to this side of her.

It was too easy to flip her over to the ground and grab her wrists, but it wasn’t enough to stop her assault. He was shoveling snow onto her like he was trying to bury her, openly laughing with glee now, but she squirmed and bucked beneath him with such violence that it caused her hips to brush against his crotch. The rush of heat he experienced startled him so badly that he quickly scrambled off of her, and as soon as he let her go, she was trying to shove his face into the snow again.

Cassian was conflicted: he was genuinely sorry to have upset her to this extent, but also fighting the mounting desire to take her to the ground and kiss her senseless. Kiss her everywhere. As if that could possibly do anything to soothe her anger.

He turned around under her hold so he wasn’t eating snow anymore and blinked through melting flakes to find her straddling him, trying to shove more snow down his shirt. It was the funniest, most adorable thing he’d ever seen her do, and he knew he was letting this drag on for far too long.

He hadn’t planned to let Nesta win like this, but his options now were to throw her off his body or to let her stay and risk becoming obviously aroused. 

“Enough— I give up,” he panted, snow melting on his tongue and going down the wrong airway. “I give up.”

She stayed atop him even as he broke into coughs, watching intently like a hawk to see if he really wasn’t faking his surrender.

Slowly, like she was dismounting a rowdy horse, she released his collar and unstraddled him one leg at a time. She sat down in the snow beside him while he caught his breath. 

He stayed there on the ground, only reaching up to pat her back in congratulations before his arm fell again. “You’re a dirty player. But you won fair and square.”

“I think the point of playing dirty is that it wasn’t fair and square.”

“Ah, well.” He waved her off, still feeling short of breath for more reasons than one.

“You were going to let me win anyway. I just wanted it to feel earned.”

Cassian said nothing at that. He wanted to touch her back again; his fingers were twitching against the snow in restraint.

They sat next to each other like that in silence for a long time. 

“Did you mean what you said on the way here?” he eventually asked. “That they were just prescription pills?” The question had been sitting in the back of his mind for a while now.

Above him, Nesta pursed her lips. “No.”

“Oh.” He’d already thought so, so he didn’t know why he was disappointed.

“I couldn’t afford a doctor’s prescription because I had no healthcare,” Nesta continued. “So I had to prescribe them myself.”

He shoved himself up to his elbows and met her gaze in surprise. “How was that safe?”

“It wasn’t. But I double-majored in pharmacology and chemistry so I had an idea of what I needed and experimented with my dosages from there. I think I did a decent job.”

Cassian had to take a moment as his entire view of Nesta shifted on its axis, changing everything he knew about everything. If she was telling the truth, that meant…

He sat upright. “Why did you need a prescription in the first place? Why would you need so many different drugs?”

Nesta turned her head away and didn’t respond. 

He knew the answer was obvious, but Cassian still felt the need to pry. “You just don’t seem like someone who would need all those meds. I’ve never thought anything was wrong with you…” He trailed off as Nesta suddenly stood up to her feet, brushing the snow off her behind as she walked back toward the house. He panicked as he realized what he’d said. “Wait, come back—”

She was doing that thing again where she pretended she couldn’t hear him. 

Later at dinner, he brought the topic up again against his better instincts. Only because something had been niggling at him since Nesta’s confession. “What about the oxycodone?” He inspected her head to toe, not knowing where on her body she could possibly have been injured enough to require such heavy painkillers. “What was that for?”

She inhaled a tight breath but didn’t let it out. “I’ve never used that.”

“Then why did you have it?”

She didn’t respond, and that was clearly all the information she was willing to divulge for the day. Fair enough. Cassian had already gotten more than he’d ever expected from her.

It was only when they were in front of the fire later that evening, Cassian letting Nesta sip hot chocolate out of his mug, that he said, “I’m sorry for what I said earlier. About how it didn’t seem like there’s anything wrong with you.”

She was silent in response.

He continued on, “I’m not the sharpest tool in the shed. Not that that’s an excuse, but… There’s nothing wrong with needing those meds, is what I’m trying to say. And if I were a more observant person, I probably would’ve noticed you needed them a long time ago. And…yeah.” He felt like an idiot, wanting to squirm as her silence dragged on.

She only took another sip of the hot chocolate, making him wonder whether she’d heard him at all. He watched her lips wrap around the rim of his mug and knew he should get up to get her her own cup, but couldn’t bring himself to do it. He loved that she was drinking out of his mug too much. Besides, Nesta seemed to eat better when it was someone else’s food and drink instead of her own.

“I don’t think you’re an idiot,” she said a few minutes later. 

He startled, thinking she’d read his mind for a moment. Then he remembered what he’d said earlier. “You don’t?” 

“I don’t. I think you can be very perceptive.”

Chills like electric currents ran down Cassian’s body in full force. Had anyone ever said such a thing to him before? Had he ever even known that he wanted to hear it?

Praise from Nesta of all people felt like being gifted the last drink of water on a dying earth. Precious and unlimited in value. “Thank you,” was all he could say.

After another moment, he hesitantly added, “I don’t know what exactly it is that’s been bothering you…”

Nesta stared into the fire. “Everyone knows I went off the rails after my father died.”

“But it’s more than that, isn’t it?”

She wouldn’t meet his eyes. “You mean how Elain and I got kidnapped and assaulted before that? Yeah, that was part of it too, I suppose.”

Cassian’s grip on the now-empty mug tightened at the memory. It felt like a lifetime ago, the way it had been so successfully buried by— well, everybody. Rhysand had saved the sisters in the end and ensured their physical recovery, but nothing had ever been done for their mental states. Elain had suffered but eventually moved past it, and for a while it had seemed as if Nesta was hardly affected as well. Everyone had been convinced that she was okay, until Mr. Archeron suddenly died and all at once it had become clear that she wasn’t.

“Part of it,” Cassian agreed tightly. “But not all of it.”

Her trauma was a wound that had been left to fester for years, only somewhere along the way infection had taken over. He only wanted to know the cause, suspecting that it was hidden away in that period of time where she’d run away from them.

But Nesta had already given him much more this weekend than he ever could have asked for, and he didn’t have the slightest idea why. Either way, he was grateful for her tentative vulnerability. It was only right to offer something in return.

He sniffed lightly. “You know this politics stuff— none of it is clean or legal. The things I’ve had to do for Rhys…”

“What things?”

He was looking down at the hardwood floor when he said, “Terrible things. Not murder, but things that some would say are just as bad.”

“Do you like your job?”

That made him huff a laugh. “Some people thrive in it, but I never thought humans were meant to be violent to other humans like that. The brutality takes a piece of your soul. Every time.”

Nesta hummed noncommittally. “I can think of plenty of people I’d like to be violent to.”

Of course she could. “It’s not like that,” he tried to explain. “It’s people you have no personal issue with, who’ve never done anything evil, that you have to take down. It’s senseless destruction.”

Nesta’s gaze grew distant as she stared into the fire, the blaze of light not seeming to hurt her eyes at all. “I think I know what you mean.”

She sounded so haunted as she said the words that it made Cassian turn to face her. How did she know? But she was slumped over in exhaustion now, done talking for the night. 

After several more minutes of nothing but the sound of the crackling fireplace, Nesta’s eyes were drooping heavily. He knew he should tell her to go upstairs to sleep in her bed, but he selfishly wanted to keep her by his side for as long as he could. When she curled up right on the floor beside him and shut her eyes, though, he knew it was time to say goodbye. 

The damn house didn’t even have rugs to warm people’s feet, and her bones would hurt if she fell asleep on the bare hardwood. Cassian himself wouldn’t be getting any sleep tonight. Rhysand would expect him to be back in Velaris by the crack of dawn, and he only had a few hours left before he had to start driving.

So he stood up with a groan and bent down to pick her up in his arms— she was worryingly light— and carried her up to her room without a word. 

Whether Nesta was awake enough to be aware of what was happening or not, he didn’t know. But as he was tucking her sleepy form into her bed, bringing the blankets up to her nose how she preferred it, he spied something hanging on the wall adjacent to the bed.