POV Cassidy
Old letters explode across the kitchen tiles like scattered bombs, yellowed envelopes and faded photographs creating chaos at my feet.
Heat flares along my collarbone again—twin branches of fire scorching beneath my skin like brands marking me for something I don't understand.
Xander crouches beside me, close enough that his scent overwhelms my senses. That makes my body react in ways that should terrify me.
Everything inside me screams danger. He's a traitor. And I guess I'm drawn to traitors, because Derek turned out to be like that. Yet my pulse hammers not with fear but with attraction so intense it makes me dizzy.
Every glance at his profile sends electricity racing through my nervous system. Every accidental brush of fingers against scattered documents ignites fires I can't control.
I want to run—but whether away from him or straight into his arms, I honestly can't tell anymore.
"These are addressed to you," he says quietly, voice rough as winter gravel.
My name appears on envelope after envelope in Dad's careful handwriting. Letters he never gave me, secrets he carried to his grave like precious poison. With trembling fingers that betray every emotion I'm trying to hide, I unfold the first one.
My dearest daughter, if you're reading this, then you are in our family house.
The simple sentence rewrites my entire existence. I stare at the words until they blur, my mind refusing to process what they mean. Family house. Not just a house from my father's childhood. Home. This was always supposed to be home.
Family house.
Our house. Where I was born, where my parents lived and loved and built dreams, where my life began with truths I was never allowed to know.
"Cassidy." Xander's voice cuts through the static filling my head like white noise. "You need to breathe."
I drag air into my lungs like I'm drowning and keep reading through tears that blur Dad's careful handwriting.
This cottage was our sanctuary for two beautiful years. Your mother and I lived here after we were married, preparing for your arrival with joy I can barely describe in words. I remember painting your nursery yellow because we wanted to be surprised. Your mother planted roses by the front porch, said they'd bloom every year for your birthday like nature's own celebration.
The image hits me like a physical blow. A nursery painted with love. Roses planted with hope. Parents who wanted me, planned for me, created a life around my expected arrival.
You took your first steps in our backyard, stumbling from the old apple tree to your mother's waiting arms. The Moon Hollow community welcomed us with open hearts, helped us build a life we thought would last forever. Mrs. Henderson brought casseroles every week during that first harsh winter. The local doctor delivered you when the storm knocked out power lines to the hospital. Your mother made friends with the other young families, and everyone adored the tiny baby who brought such joy to our quiet lives...
I glance up at Xander, whose eyes watch me with predatory intensity that makes my skin crawl and burn simultaneously.
"In this cottage. My family lived here." I whisper through tears that won't stop coming.
His expression shifts, surprise flickering across his features before he can control it.
"I didn't know," he says quietly, and something in his voice suggests he's telling the truth. "Your father never mentioned Moon Hollow when you were growing up?"
I shake my head, wiping tears with the back of my hand. "He said we had no ties here. That it was just his inherited property. So after his death it’s mine."
We were so happy, a little star. Every day felt like a gift straight from heaven. Until the night everything changed forever.
My breath catches painfully. Whatever came next destroyed that happiness, created the elaborate lies that shaped my entire existence.
"Are you okay?" Xander whispers, and his voice has turned rough with something that sounds almost like pain.
His pupils have dilated until only thin rings of gray remain visible. He reaches toward me, fingers hovering inches from my face, and every cell in my body ignites with want and terror in equal measure.
My heart pounds against my ribs like a caged animal desperate for escape. Logic screams that I should move away, put distance between us, escape whatever dangerous magnetism pulls me toward him like gravity toward a black hole.
But I'm frozen in place, caught in his hypnotic stare like prey mesmerized by its predator.
His hand moves closer. I can feel heat radiating from his skin, and can see the way his breathing has turned shallow and controlled. Everything about this moment feels balanced on a knife's edge, ready to tip toward something irreversible.
Then Theo's truck roars into the driveway like mechanical thunder, shattering whatever spell was weaving around us.
The sound explodes through my nervous system. I jerk backward in sudden panic, my movement sending papers flying in every direction. The second letter slides across smooth kitchen tiles with a whisper of aged parchment, disappearing beneath the kitchen table where shadows swallow it whole.