HANS: Alliance Series Book Four(29)

“I’m fine.” I tell her the lie.

She stares up at me, not hearing. “I’m so sorry, Hans. We shouldn’t have⁠—”

“Cassandra.” My tone is stern, finally stopping her flurry of words. “It’s okay.”

I watch her lower lip tremble.

“I’m okay.” That’s closer to the truth.

Cassandra sniffs, and another tear rolls down her cheek, then she pushes her chair back and stands. “We’ll just be a minute,” she tells her parents, then grabs my hand and pulls me the way we came, around the corner and down the short hall to the front door.

“You don’t need to—” But she stops me by throwing her arms around my waist, holding me tightly.

My body stiffens. All my muscles still, with my arms held out wide.

Then I feel her chest hitch against mine, and I let old instincts take over. I hug her back.

With my arms wrapped around her, I lower my face to the top of her head and breathe.

Her feminine scent fills my lungs.

“I’m okay.” I whisper it this time.

Because I’m starting to realize that I’m really not. The loss of my family two decades ago is still raw. Even my memories…

I can’t think about any of them without thinking about their deaths. How they died. How I couldn’t… didn’t save any of them.

I close my eyes and hold Cassandra tighter.

The last hug I received was from my father. The night before he let the illness take him.

It wasn’t an embrace like this.

It was frail. Shaky.

And it ended with him pointing to a carved wooden box at the side of his bed.

A dying man’s wish.

“I’m so sorry.” Cassandra’s voice is a mumble against my chest.

I inhale her compassion, letting it trickle into the empty corners inside me. I rub my hand up and down her side. “Thank you.”

She shakes her head against me, and her back hitches against my hold. “I should’ve stopped them.”

I wrap my arms tighter around her. “Hush, Butterfly.” I press my lips to her hair. “Please stop crying.”

She sniffs.

“Want me to tell you why I call you that?” I ask her.

Cassandra nods.

“Because you remind me of one. Beautiful. Mesmerizing. Too fragile for this awful world.” I slide one hand up to palm the back of her neck. “A pretty little butterfly I can’t help but want to protect.”

She sniffs again, then leans back just enough so she can look up at me. “Is that really why?”

I nod. I thought it the first time I saw her.

“That’s really nice.” Her wet lashes glitter. “I’m not fragile though.”

I swipe my thumb across her cheek, catching a tear. “You’re like spun glass.”

The side of her mouth pulls up. She thinks I’m teasing her, but I’m not. She’s the most precious thing to me.

Cassandra brushes at my shirt. “Sorry for crying all over you.”

“It’s alright.”

Her hand stills against my chest. “I always wanted a sister.”

I place my hand over hers. Not sure how to answer.

“What was her name?”

I close my eyes.

It’s been so long… It’s been so incredibly long since I’ve said her name.

“Freya.” I say it so quietly that I can barely hear the hitch in my voice.

My throat burns, and I have to swallow twice before I can pull in another breath of air.

Cassandra tips her forehead against my sternum, and I’m sure she can hear my thudding heart.

“Freya,” she repeats. “It’s a pretty name.”

I nod my agreement, even though Cassandra isn’t looking up at me. Hearing someone else say my sister’s name is… I fill my lungs again. It’s cathartic. It… it makes her real, having someone else say it. Like not every part of her is gone.





CHAPTER 35





Cassie





A timer beeps back in the kitchen, and I force myself to step back from Hans.

“Sorry.” I apologize again, brushing my hand over the damp spot on his T-shirt, which is thankfully not super noticeable on the black material.

“Please stop apologizing.” Hans lets his hands slide away from my body.

“Sorry,” I automatically reply before I can catch myself. Then I use my fingertips to wipe away the lingering tears under my eyes.

I don’t know why I responded like that. It feels like an overreaction, but I’m not certain it was. The man I’ve been crushing on for a year, who I’ve been getting very close to in the last couple days, just told me his whole family is gone. And that he lost his only sibling in one of the worst ways.

His overbearing actions make more sense now. His impulse to control.

Too fragile for this awful world.

My heart aches even more at his explanation.

Hans reaches out and brushes back a loose curl stuck to my damp cheek.

“It suddenly smells like cinnamon rolls in here.” His voice is gentle, and when I finally look up at him, his expression matches.

I sniff one last time. “Mom always makes them as dessert when we do breakfast for dinner.”