Pursuing My Rejected Luna by Cara Anderson novel Chapter 295

Ch. 65

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Talk about awkward. Walking into the office this morning is the first time I’ve seen Cassandra since spending the night with her in Liam’s hospital room. She looks up when I come in, wearing this expectant expression like things have miraculously changed between us and we’re suddenly on speaking terms now. Only, I have no idea what to say.

No one else is around. I mean, where is Cole when I need him? If he were here I could pretend I have some urgent business to discuss, leaving me no time to interact with anyone else. But no, the asshole only appears when it’s convenient for him.

This is Karma, the universe punishing me for the apology I’ve been holding for ransom. I’ve been working up to this since I snuck out of the medical wing at dawn before Cassandra woke up yesterday. No time like the present, I

guess.

“I shouldn’t have assumed,” I spit it out before I lose my nerve. “With Liam. That you were using it.”

I don’t sit down for this conversation. I’m not planning on staying that long. I’m telling myself that’s because I’m a busy man. It’s certainly not because I’m a coward. Never that.

And, of course, she doesn’t make it easy. She doesn’t say it’s fine or I understand or any of the things that would let me off the hook. She just looks me in the eye directly, lifting her chin in a clear challenge.

“No, you shouldn’t have.” My hackles rise at her accusatory tone but I don’t react. Then her voice softens. “But I understand why you did.”

I nod in acknowledgement. “Well, for what it’s worth, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have risked Liam that way. I’m really glad he’s better.”

“Thank you.” The soft but sad smile on her face fills me with the sudden urge to pull her into my arms and hold her until the sadness melts away.

Leaving before I do something I’ll regret seems the only sane course of action so that’s what I do.

But I only make it as far as the hallway before the inadequacy of the apology hits me. Not that I wasn’t justified in what I did even she admitted that. I assumed it was one of her games, a way of getting attention when I chose Piper over her and she realized she’s lost me for good.

Still, Liam could have died if I’d taken any longer to pull my head out of my ass and there’s no excuse for that. If I’d called Dr. Lukas and it turned out to be a scam, I could have dealt with it afterwards, Gambling with a child’s health is inexcusable no matter what I think about his mother.

What really gets me though, is that it’s taken me three days to finally say the words I was wrong to her for the first time. She’s said it to me twice now, easily, for minor incidents, when she was only trying to help and I’d overacted. But I could’ve caused serious harm and yet I’m the one who struggled with an apology. What does that say about me?

I pass her office again on my way to the council prep. She doesn’t even look up, though I know she can scent me. And that makes my chest twinge in a way I’m not entirely comfortable with.

“How’s the boy?” Piper asks when I sit next to her at the meeting.

She’s been patient–she hasn’t complained about the time I spent at the hospital with Liam, even though she knows Cassandra was there too. And I appreciate that, I do. But something about the way she says “the boy” when

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she knows his name is Liam grates on me.

stable,” My answer is clipped. “He’ll be fine.”

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“Good,” she says. “He seertied like a sweet kid, the few times I’ve seen him.” She’s genuinely glad. I can see it. And that has me feeling guilty for doubting her.

Basically, I’m drowning in guilt.”

“You were there all night?” Piper mentions casually.

“Yes. I needed to be sure he’d be okay after the delay I caused.” I feel the need to defend my decision.

She’s quiet for a moment. But there’s a very charged vibe to her silence–not angry, not hurt, but definitely contemplative. She’s deciding how to say what she’s going to say. And I’m bracing for impact.

“That was good of you,” Her words surprise me, but the way she says them doesn’t.

The tone is not quite warm and not quite genuine. But saying anything else would not be a good look for her and she knows it..

“It’s what you do when a child is sick,” I say just loud enough for her to hear me since the room is filling and the meeting is about to start.

“I know,” she flashes a mile that doesn’t reach her eyes. “That’s why I said it was good.”

We’re both aware this conversation is about more than what’s being said. Neither of us makes it explicit. It’s not the time or place. But she’s patient enough to bide her time and I have the discomfort of a man who knows she’s right to trust the feeling that he isn’t ready to be what she’s trusting him to be.

“Dinner tonight?” she suggests nonchalantly.

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