She watches him drive off in a haste.
She should be used to it by now. The fighting, the storming off, the venom in his voice. he should know, by now, that no matter how many times he leaves, he always comes back. Sometimes it's an hour, other times a whole day, but he always comes back.
But this time feels different.
They've fought before—argued nearly all the time—but most of those fights were over small things that snowballed into much bigger problems. This time, though, it feels like something is slipping away from her, out of her grasp. Each time he walks out the door, she's reminded of the girl who watched her father walk out over and over again, the fear that he, too, would abandon her, eating her up from the inside.
Maybe that's why she finds some twisted comfort in Nate's overbearing presence—the way he suffocates her freedom, tracks her every movement, demands her by his side at all times. She almost welcomes his jealousy and obsession, craves it. In his need to control her, she feels like she's safe. Like she's not invisible.
But then the straw breaks the camel's back, and the balance tips. He walks away again, and she retreats into the dark place inside her.
Pumpkin yaps at her feet, spinning in circles, jumping up at her legs. It's almost like he's saying, Look what you've done.
"I know," she whispers to him, picking the dog up in her arms. "I'm always fucking this up." She squeezes the overstimulated dog to her chest, letting him lick away the salt of her tears, feeling his fur tickle her nose.
It isn't long before Harvey starts crying again.
His crying had been relentless all day. Marsha mentioned he could be teething, but she knew better. Harvey had always been a needy baby, but the last few days had been different. He was clingier, fussier, as though he couldn't bear to be away from her for even a moment. And as he cries now, so does she, silently, in the space between his screams.
She tries everything—rocking him, feeding him, shifting him between her arms, then into his vibrating chair, onto the couch, into bed. Nothing soothes him. Nothing works.
Eventually, she just lets herself cry with him.
"I wish you could just tell me what's wrong," she whispers, holding her son as he screams beside her.
She dials Nate's number, but the phone doesn't even ring. She isn't surprised—he's probably switched it off the moment he walked out, or worse, blocked her number.
Moments like this make it hard to love Nate.
"I'm always there for you." She wishes she could say that to him. "Even when I don't like you, or when you're the cause of my pain, I'm still here. Why can't you be here for me, too?"
Marsha's phone goes unanswered as well. She's probably knocked out from Xanax and wine.
Gemma and Aaron are camping, her mom's in Santa Barbara, and Cal—Cal is the reason her husband isn't here.
She feels small. Pathetic. Alone.
Her mind echoes with his voice: You're so needy. You can't do anything on your own. You always need someone to help you.
She doesn't want to call her, but she does.
Lexi's at her door minutes later, ready to take her and Harvey to the hospital. It's probably nothing, she tells herself as she holds Harvey's tiny fist in the car. She doesn't even ask about Nate, and that surprises her.
In the hospital, they prod and poke her crying baby, and Cassie holds on to whatever strength she has left, trying not to fall apart.
"We suspect a viral infection, but we'll keep a close eye on him overnight," the doctor says.
Cassie watches Harvey, now hooked up to high-flow oxygen, his small body peaceful in the cot. Finally, he's asleep.
"Cass," Lexi's voice breaks the silence. "Where the hell is Nate?"
Cassie takes a deep breath, looks at her hands, at her son. "I don't know," she says, her voice heavy. "We fought... I fucked up. I hurt him, and he just left."
"What about all the fucked-up things he's done to hurt you? How about the fact you're here without him?"
Cassie doesn't respond, but Lexi's words hit like a hammer.
"I know you don't want to hear this," Lexi continues, "but the way Nate punishes you when you upset him is a form of abuse."
"I love him, Lex," Cassie whispers, wiping the tears from her face. "I feel like I can't even breathe without him."
"You're breathing right now," Lexi says softly. "You're taking care of your son. Alone. You're breathing. You have to love yourself more than you love him. If not for you, for Harvey."
Lexi's words strike Cassie deep, like a punch to the gut. She wonders how their relationship will affect their son, what kind of future he'll have if he grows up in this volatile home.
But then she wonders—what's worse? A broken home, or one that's held together by fear?
Once the doctor assures her that Harvey will be fine, Cassie convinces Lexi to go home. Her sister's reluctant, but Cassie insists. She needs to be alone, to sleep, but her mind keeps racing. She watches over Harvey, trying to convince herself that everything will be okay.
Spending the night in the hospital with her sick child is one of the hardest things she's ever done, but she survives it without Nate. And that realization hits her harder than anything. He abandoned her when she needed him the most. When they needed him.
At 5 a.m., her phone finally rings. It's Marsha.
"Sweetheart, I'm so sorry I just woke up... is everything okay?"
Cassie forces herself to stay composed as she tells her mother-in-law about Harvey. Marsha offers to come over immediately, no surprise there.
"Have you heard from Nate?" Cassie asks, dreading the answer.
Marsha's voice falters. "He's not with you in the hospital?"
"No. We fought. He left, and I can't reach him. His phone's off."
There's a pause, and then Marsha's words come, low and tight. "I'll find him."
With little hope she marches down the hall to her son's old room, only to find him sounds asleep and fully clothed in his bed.
"Wake up! " she screams, shaking him awake. His eyes flicker open in confusion. "Have you lost your goddamn mind? Harvey is in the hospital, Cassie has been trying to call you."
"What?" Nate shoots out of bed, bombarding her with questions.
On the drive to the hospital, Marsha unleashes on her son.
"What the fuck is wrong with you, Nate? You're a husband, a father, you don't get to disappear like that. You left your wife in the hospital alone-"
"I didn't leave her there, I didn't even know she was -"
"Shut up! Just shut up, Nate!" Marsha cuts him off, her voice trembling with frustration. "Think about how scared you were when you found out. Now imagine how Cassie felt, trying to get to the hospital alone. I'm so disappointed in you."
Nate has nothing to say back. He's focused on getting to his wife and son, running through the hospital as fast as he can.
When he finally reaches Harvey's room, Cassie's curled up in a chair, watching their son.
"I'm so sorry, baby," Nate whispers in her hair, kneeling beside her, wrapping her in an embrace.
She stays still, though she wants to melt into him, to let herself break down. But she won't.
"What happened?" Nate asks, looking at Harvey. His voice cracks as he surveys their son's fragile form.
She brings him up to speed on their son, reassures him that he is fine now and they should be able to go home soon. Her demeanour is cold as she speaks to him, robotic even. He doesn't catch it though and, in typical Nate fashion, proceeds to take over the situation wanting to know more from doctors. He demands their immediate attention.
Cassie's head is pounding. She has already vomited twice from stress since being at the hospital. She is tired. Physically and mentally drained.
"Stop," she finally snaps, her voice low but firm. "Everything is fine. Stop making it worse for everyone."
"Are you fucking kidding me?" he spits, his voice rising. "I'm worried about our son, who is lying in a fucking hospital bed!"
Cassie's anger erupts like wildfire. She wants to scream, wants to strike him, to make him feel the weight of his absence.
"How dare you?" She seethes. The venom in her voice is unlike anything Nate has ever heard before, it is so jarring he takes a step back. "You are worried? Where the fuck were you all night? I was here, alone, not you. Don't you dare, Nate, don't you fucking dare speak to me like I am a fucking idiot right now."
Before the argument can escalate any further, Marsha walks in, and Cassie feels a strange sense of relief. She wraps herself in her mother-in-law's embrace, finally letting go, letting herself break down.
"He's okay, honey." Marsha repeats softly in her ear, hugging and reassuring her in a motherly way. In absence of her own mother, Marsha's voice soothes as she reassures of how well she managed the situation.
It's not lost on either of them the way Nate awkwardly stands in the corner of the room, his eyes burning holes in the back of their heads. Cassie wishes she could say she cares about what he might feel right now, his guilt, his worry, his own feelings and fears about their son's health. A part of her wishes for him to grovel, to stress, to wonder what will happen next. A part of her hopes he never feels the way she felt in the last hours.
After her tears subside, Marsha offers to step out for coffee and food, though Cassie can barely stomach the idea of food. But Marsha wants to give her and Nate space, a chance to clear the air. Cassie doubts it'll do any good, but she lets her go.
Before she can say a word, she's rushing to the bathroom to throw up again, her throat raw from the constant sickness. Despite not eating, the nauseous feeling lingers, clinging to her like a shadow. She hears Nate's footsteps, feels his presence as he comes closer and holds her hair back. He suggests she should see a doctor while they're here, but she just shakes her head.
His hand on her back feels heavy, as though it weighs her down instead of offering comfort. His presence makes her skin crawl, her blood simmer with irritation. Once she's finished, she pushes his hand away, leaning her back against the cold porcelain toilet.
They both sit on the cold tiles, and his arm slides around her, pulling her closer. He holds her tightly against his chest, despite her attempts to push him off.
"I'm sorry I wasn't here..." Nate whispers in her ear, his tears wetting her cheek. "I don't even know what to say. I know nothing I say can make up for it."
For a moment, she remains silent. He doesn't know what to say, and she doesn't know how to respond. There's so much inside her that she's afraid to say, so much that could tear her apart if she lets it out.
"You always do this..." she murmurs against his chest, forcing back the tears. "You leave when I need you."
"I know. And I already feel like the biggest piece of shit because of it." His lips brush her face as he repeatedly apologizes.
In moments like this, Cassie can't help but feel like the life she's living is a weight far too heavy for someone her age.
"Stop," she says, part plea, part command, her voice shaky yet firm, a mixture of desperation and resolve. He hesitates for a moment, and she catches the way his chest rises and falls, his breathing labored. He pulls back, his gaze locking with hers, the raw panic in his eyes making her heart ache even as she steels herself for what she's about to say.
"I don't think you should come home with us."
The words hang in the air, sharp and final. He stares at her, eyes wide, brows furrowed in disbelief. His mouth opens but no sound comes out, as if he's trying to process what she's just said.
"What?" His voice cracks, and for a moment, the emotional weight of the situation presses down on them both, filling the space between them with something too heavy to ignore.
She exhales slowly, her eyes never leaving his, her voice breaking but unwavering. "This... it's suffocating. We can't keep going like this." Her words falter, but she pushes through, the hospital bathroom now feeling like an isolating cage.
Nate's anger flares, his body tense with it. His face hardens, his eyes narrowing as the frustration and fear twist together into something dangerous. He leans forward, his hands rising to gently cup her face, his thumb brushing over her skin almost desperately. There's a quiet force in the way he holds her, as if he needs to make sure she's real, that she's still there with him. That she cannot move an inch away from him if she tried.
"You're not leaving me, Cassie," his voice rough, his words sharp, his tone raw. His eyes burn into hers, like he's holding onto a fragile thread of control. His chest heaves with each ragged breath, the space between them filled with the electric crackle of anger and something deeper—something that might break them both if it's pushed any further.
Cassie takes a breath, her hands trembling slightly as she places them over his, trying to pull away gently. "Nate, please," she whispers, her voice cracking. "I need... I need just a few days. I need space, just to breathe, just a few days to clear my head. This... everything... I can't do this right now."
Nate's jaw tightens at the mention of space. He pulls back, eyes narrowing, disbelief giving way to frustration. "Space?" His voice is tight, and the anger starts to bleed through. "Is that what you need? You're upset at me for not being there for you, but somehow you need space?"
Cassie watches him stand up, the tension in the air thickening with each of his angry strides. Her chest tightens, the weight of his words pushing her to the edge. She wipes her eyes, trying to compose herself, but the tears keep coming, hot and relentless.
"You weren't there when I needed you the most. You weren't there when I was crying, when I was scared, when I needed someone to hold me together." She takes a shaky breath, wiping her cheeks furiously, her voice getting louder despite herself. "I've been trying so hard to be strong, to be okay, but every time I turn around, you're not here. I'm standing here, giving everything I have, and you're just... not there. And now you're asking me why I need space? Why I need to breathe?"
"Oh so that's why you needed to spend time with Cal? Is that it? Because apparently, I'm never there for you when you need me?" Cassie flinches, the weight of his words sinking in. She opens her mouth to speak, but he cuts her off, his voice rising, sharper now. "You think that doesn't hurt? You went behind my back to my own father, Cassie. Do you know how that feels? Like I'm the last person you trust?"
"The last thing I wanted to do was hurt you. But that doesn't mean you have to hurt me back." Cassie swallows, her voice trembling. "I love you, Nate. So fucking much. But we need space. We need distance to stop this cycle. I can't keep going like this. We're tearing each other apart, and I won't let our son grow up in the middle of this... this mess."
The mention of their son hits him like a punch to the gut, and the weight of what they're doing to their family suddenly grounds him. His shoulders tense, and for a moment, the anger fades, replaced by something far more dangerous.
He steps toward her, the air between them thick with the tension of unsaid things. His voice is low, barely above a growl. "You're my wife, Cassie. Harvey is my son. If you need space, I'll give it to you. But don't fucking think for one second that I'm letting you walk away from this family."
Darlin', darlin', darlin'
I fall to pieces when I'm with you, I fall to pieces
My cherries and wine, rosemary and thyme and all of my peaches are ruined, bitch