Ghosts of the Past

Cassie’s POV

I shut the door to my apartment harder than I needed to, putting down my bag on the counter. The weight in my chest would not move.

Jeffery Richards.

Why was he still able to turn me back?

I breathed deeply in annoyance and smoothed my hair. I had suppressed that pain for years, telling myself that I had moved on. And yet the moment I saw him, all that I had fought so desperately to keep within me came flooding back.

"Bad day?"

I turned to find Andrew sitting in front of my vanity mirror, applying eye pencil to sharpen his eyebrows for his drag show tonight.

"How did you manage to get in here?" I asked, furrowing my brow.

Andrew smiled, unflustered. "Spare key. You left it with me, didn't you?"

I winced. "Remind me to change my locks."

"Noted." He glared at me for a second. "You're going to throw something."

I crossed my arms and rested them on the counter. "It's nothing."

Andrew snorted. "Bull. Spill."

I paused. I didn't enjoy discussing the past, especially this part. But Andrew had been my rock since college, the one person who had been able to penetrate my guard.

I breathed. "It's Jeffery."

Andrew's calm expression vanished. "What did he do?"

"Nothing," I admitted. "Not really. It's just… I never thought I'd see him again. And now I have to work with him."

Andrew scowled. "And how's that going?"

I rolled my eyes. "Like walking on glass. He still attempts to open up old wounds, but I tried hard to shut it down."

Andrew scowled at her. "And how is that working out for you?"

I bristled. "What are you trying to say?"

"If you were really sick of it, you wouldn't be so angry," replied Andrew bluntly.

My lips parted in protest, but I restrained myself. He wasn't wrong.

Andrew took a breath. "Listen, I get it. The guy hurt you, and now he's returning here like he cares about fixing things. But you need to ask yourself—what do you want?"

I did not have a response.

Andrew leaned forward. "Promise me one thing."

"What?"

"Don't let him get in your head. You've come too far to get where you are. Don't let some old flashback blow you off."

I hid a small smile. "Thanks, Andrew."

"Whenever," he replied, putting the gel mascara on the table. "Chinese or Mexican tonight?"

I gasped, having a fleeting moment of sanity. "Mexican. Extra guac."

"Well done."

For the first time that day, I felt lighter.

***

The following day, I was halfway through reading my emails when there was an unexpected delivery.

"Miss Jones," the receptionist answered, walking over to my desk. "This was brought in for you."

I blinked at the envelope in the woman's hand. It was thick, cream-colored, and completely unmarked.

"Who is the sender?" I inquired.

"No name," replied the receptionist. "Just a courier service."

I hesitated as I took the envelope. Part of me already suspected who the sender was.

I opened it again on my desk.

Inside was a sketch.

I ceased breathing.

It was an old drawing he had made in high school.

Me.

It was pencil, simple but unmistakable. The fine lines had captured me laughing, my hair loosely waved, and my eyes sparkling with happiness. He had sketched this when all had been well, before everything had begun to go wrong.

I stared at it, emotions colliding. Anger. Nostalgia. Confusion.

Why would he do that?

Was it an apology? A reminder?

My fingers trembled as I ran my fingers along the borders of the paper. Memories were going to overwhelm me.

You've changed.

His words in their last meeting haunted me. Was this how he was indicating that he had not forgotten?

A loud knock on my door awakened me.

My boss, Claire, poked her head in. "Cassie, I've got you in the conference room in five."

I consented. "I'll be right there."

The instant Claire had disappeared, I went back to the drawing.

I considered tearing it in half for a moment.

But I didn't.

I did the opposite, inserting it back into the envelope and pushing it into my desk drawer.

Out of sight.

But not out of sight.

I stood up and stiffened my shoulders.

Jeffery Richards was not shaking me.

Not again.