Pursuing My Rejected Luna by Cara Anderson novel Chapter 250

Ch. 22

Cassandra

The unfamiliar sight of a bare white ceiling is the first thing to greet me when I open my eyes. They’re gritty and dry and it takes a few tries before I manage to keep them open. Where am I?

Light streams in from a window somewhere. The room is bright, but not the artificial kind. Natural, like the late morning sun. Later than I usually wake up.

Then the smell hits me. Antiseptic underneath something else-the combination of a cleaner like bleach mixed with something more medicinal.

Lastly, as my eyes dart around the room, taking in the entirety of the space, I realize I’m alone. It takes a minute for the wrongness of that to sink in. But when it does, everything else becomes irrelevant.

“Liam!” I try calling for him but my throat is so dry, his name is more of a broken whine than a shout.

I’m halfway out of bed before I’ve fully registered that moving is going to hurt. My ribs ache but the pain is different now, more like the dull throb of a massive bruise than the sharp stabbing from earlier. That, coupled with the tight dressing that bands my chest, means something was done about them, which means I’ve been

unconscious for a while.

I breathe through the pain and keep moving. I would crawl over broken glass to get to my son if I had to. I haven’t even made it fully upright when the door opens. My eyes fly to the door, hoping to see my little boy.

But it’s not Liam. It’s Noah.

“Where’s Liam?” I don’t have the patience for a greeting. “Where is he?”

“He’s with Mara,” Noah informs me, as if I should know who that is and be okay with him leaving my son in her care. He doesn’t react to the urgency in my tone, just calmly gives me the rundown of Liam’s morning. “He ate breakfast. He’s been asking about you every twenty minutes.”

The relief of knowing he’s safe is physical. Immediately, the knot in my chest loosens. I finish maneuvering into a sitting position and my body takes the opportunity to remind me, comprehensively, of what a bad idea that was.

I groan with the pain and Noah crosses the room, putting a hand on my shoulder.

“Lie back down.” He growls, pushing my shoulder until I obey. I let him help me because my body has already decided that’s what needs to happen anyway.

“Fine. But you don’t have to be so pushy!” I grumble. He scowls at me but doesn’t comment.

I settle against the pillow and take inventory of what’s changed while I was out.. The ribs are wrapped-the compression is a little more uncomfortable now that I’m more aware. The cut on my face has been cleaned and dressed, the tape itchy on my skin. My shoulder is still sore but I can move it much easier now.

Someone has obviously taken care of me and I don’t understand why. Whoever it was didn’t owe me anything. Especially not Noah.

My gaze drifts to the chair beside the bed where Noah has settled. There’s a blanket thrown over the arm like someone’s been spending a fair bit of time there and wanted to get comfortable.

I look at Noah, the question written on my face. He meets my eyes without expression, giving nothing away. I’m not brave enough to ask out loud.

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“Tell me what happened,” The command in his voice tells me it’s not optional.

m fine,” I dodge anyway. “I just need to know about the-”

“You were unconscious for two days.” His jaw clenches but his tone doesn’t change, just as unyielding. You have two cracked ribs and internal bruising significant enough that Dr. Lukas wasn’t sure it was safe to keep you here. She insisted on bringing in extra monitoring equipment.” He glares at me. “I paid for that. You can tell me what happened.”

The guilt trip is delivered with expert precision. I deserve it and we both know it. He’s just stating the terms of what he’s owed.

“I was attacked,” I shudder at the recollection.

He waits with his arms crossed over his chest, unsatisfied with the lack of details.

I sigh heavily and give him what he’s waiting for. I tell him about driving so long without finding a place to stay. About how tired I was and my plan to sleep in the car. A low growl rumbles in his chest at that part but he doesn’t interrupt.

It takes effort not to break down when I describe what the two wolves did to me, the fear of what would happen to Liam if I died on that road. Scenes from the attack flash through my head as I tell the story and it’s like living through the terror all over again.

I actually manage to hold it together until I get to the part where I wake up, lying in the street, with Liam beside me, his hand on my face, crying without making a sound. Frustrated with my weakness, I wipe the tears away angrily but they don’t stop falling.

By the time the story ends and I have to admit why I came here, that I used the last of my strength to drive through the night because I didn’t have another option for getting Liam somewhere safe, my tears have all dried up. Only then do I have the courage to look Noah in the eye.

He’s watching me with an unreadable expression. Maybe doubt, maybe pity. I can’t tell. He’s quiet for a moment. And before the road,” he eventually speaks. “Why were you on that road.”

It’s not quite a question. He probably already knows the answer but wants to hear me admit it.

“The settlement was ending the rogue accommodation program,” I say. “But Jarrett died so I had Liam with me and couldn’t keep working for them anyway. I was looking for options.”

“And you ran out of them.”

“Yes.” I look away, shame roiling in my stomach.

“And Ironwood was the last one.” It’s not a guess. He knows it’s true.

“Yes.” I confess.

I don’t bother pretending to be contrite. I don’t organize my response. I just say what’s true and let him take it as he will. He’s going to anyway.

He stares at me for a moment-the same way he has since the moment he walked into the visitor hold. Taking in information but not reacting to it yet. He doesn’t seem to react to me at all, not that I blame him.

“Tell me why I should let you stay.” It’s the last thing I expect him to say but, in the end, there’s only one answer.

“Because Liam needs somewhere safe and stable,” I state flatly, no emotion. Emotion won’t get me anywhere

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with Noah, I know better. He’d have to actually care about me to be moved by my feelings. I shove that hope aside and continue. “And because I don’t have anywhere else. And because-“I stop and take a breath. “Because I came back here knowing you had every right to turn me away, and I came anyway, which should tell you something.”

“It tells me you were desperate,” he states the obvious.

“Yes,” I agree. “I was. I am.” I hold his gaze without flinching. “I’m not here to get in your way and I don’t expect – anything from you. I just have a four-year-old who has been moved six times in the last year and deserves to stop moving, and the only place left on my list that might take us is here. That’s why I’m here.”

He watches me for a long moment, his face giving nothing away.

“I’ll let you know,” he stands up as he says it.

“Noah-“Calling his name is instinct driven by the panic his lack of an answer instills.

“I’ll let you know,” he says again, and leaves.

Cara Anderson

Author

Thank you for reading!

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