Page 104 of As the Rain Falls (Sainte Madeleine #1)
MORE THAN WORDS
Beckett
It’s long past midnight when someone knocks on the front door. It takes me a second to register the quiet sound; the knock is soft and hesitant.
Groggily, I get up to answer it, my t-shirt rising up to my mid-chest. I quickly pull it down, trying to tame my wild hair.
When I open the door, Cassandra is standing there, her eyes bloodshot. She hesitates, like she’s about to speak but can’t find the words.
“Can I…” she trails off, swallowing hard. Her gaze flies past me, checking to see if I’m alone. Pepé is asleep, lying on the kitchen floor. “Can I please stay here tonight?”
A shallow breath escapes past her lips, the kind someone makes before they start to cry. She scratches her arm nervously, like she’s been caught doing something wrong.
“I might wake Nathaniel up if I try to open the door,” she explains. “I think I saw him sleeping in the living room. He must be waiting for me to come home, and I…”
The statement hangs between us, cold and heavy, like a deadly sentence. I take a step back, opening the door wide and making enough space to let her in.
She barely makes a full step before her knees give out.
“Cassandra!” I catch her before she hits the ground, lifting her up bridal style. Her head rolls, finding the curve of my shoulder, her cold nose pressing against my warm skin.
“I’m sorry. I have… I have nowhere else to go.”
“It’s okay.” I shut the door with my foot. The lock never opens from the outside anyway. She weighs nothing in my arms, almost too fragile. I press my lips to her temple, feeling her shiver against me. “I’ve got you, baby.”
“I’m…” Cassandra’s gaze locks onto mine, her fingers struggling to find something to hold. Her lashes are wet. “I would’ve called, but my phone was dying, and every store was closed, and—”
“I’m not upset about that.” I adjust my hold, carefully stepping up the narrow staircase. It’s cramped, but we make it work. “I told you to come to me whenever you needed to, didn’t I?”
Cassandra reeks of… sex.
Sex and sweat, dried and sticky, all clinging to her skin.
I sit her down on the toilet, noticing the mess that is her hair and her clothes. She wipes her face, her eyes fleetingly meeting mine, and something in my gaze makes her flinch.
“Can I get some water, please?” she asks, her voice soft and hoarse.
I nod quickly, moving on autopilot to grab a water bottle in my room and hand it to her, lifting it up to her lips. I can see the clear disorientation in her eyes. It unsettles me.
“Cass?” I ask gently, touching her wrist when she starts to stare at an empty spot above my head. “Hey. Are you with me?”
She blinks, slow and dazed. “Becky?”
I smile weakly. “That’s me, baby.”
“Where… Where are we?”
“My bathroom.” I press my lips to her wrist, feeling her pulse, slow but steady.
“Okay.” She nods slowly, her gaze flicking to the shower. “Can I shower?”
“If you want to,” I keep my voice firm as I add. “Just tell me what happened first, okay?”
“I went to André’s.”
Cassandra exhales shakily, color blooming across her cheeks.
God… She’s so ashamed of herself.
“I had to walk all the way back to the bus station, but the driver wouldn’t drop me close to home, so I had to walk all the way here, too.”
I hum in acknowledgement, checking for any signs of injury. There’s a dark hickey on her neck, but nothing else.
“And what happened at André’s?”
“Beckett,” she cries, her tone tinged with defeat. “I really need to clean myself up right now. Please, I feel so gross.”
“Cass.” I wince, not liking how forceful I have to be.
I can’t shake the urge to drive her to the hospital. She doesn’t look fine. We exchange a long look, and I understand very quickly that I’m not getting any more from her until she showers. That’s fine. I can work with that too for now.
“Do you need any help?”
“I can, uh, I can do it on my own.” She rises and takes a wobbly step forward, but her arms sag as she tries to pull her shirt. I motion to grab it, but she pulls away from my touch. “I can do it, Beckett.”
After another failed attempt, Cassandra starts to get frustrated with herself. The frustration gets her to start sobbing. I decide to help her, then, at least just to slip the shirt off. Her fingers drop it, letting the piece of fabric fall to the floor.
She hugs her body, shrinking away from me as I turn towards the shower and adjust the settings from cold to warm. Her hiccups are the most torturous sound I’ve ever had to hear. I throw a quick glance at her, checking to see if she’s still standing, still waiting for the water to warm up.
“Stop looking at me!” Cassandra snaps.
“I’m not,” I promise, and my gaze is now fixed on the floor. “I just want to get you in and out of the shower.”
She closes her eyes, nodding quickly.
I pull her skirt down next, slow and careful.
It’s torture.
Absolute torture.
I avoid as much as I can to let my fingers linger, but she still flinches, quietly pleading for distance.
As I lead her to the shower, making sure she won’t slip and fall, the water starts to fall above her head, and something about it makes her start to spiral.
Cassandra starts rubbing herself, her body. She does it quickly, compulsively, scratching her arms, stomach, and chest. Her gasps are these choked sounds of distress, and I just stare, feeling hopeless.
“Get him off!” she finally crumbles, green eyes glaring at me, begging me to do something. “Get him off me!”
“Cassie, hey.” I step forward, reaching for her arms when she starts tugging at her hair, pulling at the strands. “It’s just me.”
“Get him off, please! He won’t stop! Get him off me!”
Cassandra screams, eyes wide with panic, when I touch her. Water is soaking me now. Soaking her. I press her to the wall, grounding her to something real, pulling her arms down gently.
“Focus.” I cup her face next. “Just breathe.”
A hysterical laugh comes out of her, long and painful.
“I’m… I’m going to die.”
Not on my watch, no.
“Breathe, baby.” I focus on my own breathing, closing my eyes, trying to get her to follow my rhythm. “Let’s breathe together.”
She inhales sharply after me, and we exhale in unison.
“Where are you now, Cassandra?” I ask, my voice steady. I want her to calm down as soon as possible so I can get her to bed.
“Bathroom,” she says after a certain time, the fog of panic lifting just long enough for her to answer.
“Who am I?” my voice is soft and strong, grounding her.
She blinks hard, fighting her mind. “Becky.”
“That’s right.” I nod, keeping a smile on my face, but it’s so sad. “What else do you see?”
She looks around, suddenly absorbed by the soap. “Coconut.”
I nod again. “That’s right, coconut.”
Just like her shampoo.
“What else, Cass?”
“Tiles. Razors.” She touches my chest lightly. “You.”
“Keep breathing for me, okay?” I press a kiss to her cheek, breathing her in, too. “It’s just me and you.”
“Just me and you,” I hear her mumble after me, absorbing the information. “Just… just you.”
“Yes.” I nod.
“You won’t… You won’t hurt me?”
I promise, “I won’t hurt you, but I… Can I… I’m going to help you clean up now, but I still won’t touch you anywhere you don’t want me to, is that alright?”
The statement hangs in the air for another minute before Cassandra nods slowly, incredibly trusting even at her most vulnerable moment. I steady myself before I start to work in silence, acutely aware of how she’s watching me.
“I’m not looking.” I rise to press a kiss to the top of her head, knowing she needs to hear it. My words are the only thing keeping her in a state of safety right now. “Remember what I told you that one time? How I… I don’t see anything you don’t want me to.”
She nods again, and I let the last piece of her clothing fall to the floor, the sound of it hitting the wet ground muffled by her hiccups.
“I wasn’t just saying it, you know?” My fingers find the curve of her shoulder, keeping her steady while I readjust the shower head, keeping it away from her damp hair. “I meant it.”
At last, I hear her exhale, her body slowly relaxing when our eyes meet again. Quietly, I shift my gaze away from her and reach for the shampoo.
My hands won’t stop shaking.
She swallows hard, eyelids fluttering shut.
“I know.”