HIS

Chapter 31

Six months later...

"Hey Cassy, would you mind processing these documents before you leave?" Dustin asked.

"Oh, hi Dustin! Sure, just leave them on my desk and I'll get to them before I head out," I replied with a smile.

"Are you planning to meet up with the others at Jimmy's tonight?" Dustin asked.

"I'm not sure I'm up for dealing with a hangover tomorrow. We've still got Taylor's barbecue to go to," I said, continuing to focus on my work.

"You only live once," he said with a grin. But when he saw the look on my face, he realized I was done with the conversation. Without another word, he backed off and left me to my work.

He can be a little annoying at times. At least he got the hint to leave me to work in peace.

I chose to stick with the name on my fake ID—Cassy Mitchell—to stay under the radar. That name is who I am now. I began my new life in Cheyenne, Wyoming six months ago, after leaving New York behind. I took a bus and rode it as far as I thought was safe, eventually landing here. In the middle of nowhere.

I work at a small construction company—just nine of us in total. Dustin is technically my manager, though he's also part of our friend group. He can be a bit too forward at times. My role is mostly admin-related, and honestly, it pays a lot better than waiting tables in this town ever would.

Not much goes on around here besides the usual trip to the local pub or club. The alternative is hanging out with friends, which often turns into a gossip session. I'm definitely not into the gossiping part—I prefer to keep my life to myself.

Tonight, a few guys and girls I know from around town are heading to a pub called Jimmy's. I'm still undecided about whether I'll join them. It's become their regular weekend routine, but I've been coming up with excuses to avoid going every time.

I usually prefer spending time alone, watching movies and scrolling through social media to check in on people I used to know back in New York. But not him—I never search for him.

I suppose I go out just to keep my mind busy—otherwise, I'd probably sink into a deep depression.

I haven't stayed in touch with anyone from that side. I didn't even bother to check whether the divorce went through. At this point in my life, I don't really care to know. All I want is peace.

Do I regret leaving? Sometimes. But what really gets under my skin is how everyone around here seems to be all up in each other's business. That's exactly why I steer clear of big group hangouts every weekend. I miss New York—it played a huge role in shaping who I am today, even with all the chaos that came with it.

Do I regret leaving Domenico? Not at all. I still feel a deep anger whenever I replay that conversation in my mind—the way he behaved with her, the way she touched him so intimately. And honestly, the way he treated me after we left Italy was the final straw. That alone made my decision clear.

I haven't moved on with anyone, and honestly, I don't think I'm interested in being with anyone right now. Even after everything Domenico did, part of me still loves him. But at the same time, I can't help but hate him too.

I wrapped up the last bit of paperwork on my desk and made my way to my apartment, just a block away from the office.

I live in a modest one-bedroom apartment, simply furnished, with large windows that overlook Cheyenne—making the space feel more open and spacious than it really is.

As soon as I stepped into my apartment, I poured myself a glass of white wine and slipped out of my work clothes. I ran a warm, soothing bath and let soft music fill the background. Despite my efforts to keep him out of my thoughts, memories of him came rushing back—ones I've tried so hard to bury, but never quite succeed. Now, it feels like I willingly torment myself by letting him linger in my mind.

Things had been going well, but now I can feel that familiar wave of depression creeping back in. When I first arrived here, I spent two full weeks sulking before I even considered looking for a job. After finishing my bath, I let the water drain and headed to the bedroom, slipping into a pair of leggings and a tank top.

I wandered into the kitchen and threw together a grilled cheese sandwich—too lazy to cook anything more elaborate. Then I settled onto the couch, ready to binge-watch a few romantic movies.

About an hour into the movie, I heard a knock at the door. I paused the screen and got up to see who it was.

"Oh, hey Kelly. What are you doing here? I thought you were heading to Jimmy's with the others," I said as I opened the door for her to come in, already feeling a twinge of annoyance. Her showing up could only mean one thing—she was about to start pleading with me to go out with her.

"I want you to come with me. I'm not letting you sit here all alone," she said with a wide smile. "You're young, and who knows—maybe tonight's the night you meet someone special."

"You know I'm not interested in getting involved with anyone right now," I told her, dropping onto the couch.

"I'm not giving you a choice," she said firmly. "Get up and get dressed, or I swear I'll drag you out myself." She gave me a pointed look, clearly waiting for me to head off and change.

I let out a groan, rubbed my hands over my face, and headed to the bedroom. I slipped into a pair of black jeans and ankle boots—it was chilly outside, after all. Pulling a white, long-sleeved cropped top over my head, I tied a black suede cropped jacket around my waist. I left my hair down, letting it fall loosely down my back. Grabbing a small purse, I stepped out of the bedroom and walked to the door, waiting for Kelly to get up so we could head to the pub.

Kelly is a tall blonde with a striking figure. She's also Russell's girlfriend—he's part of our friend group too.

Our group includes Dustin, Kelly, Russell, Taylor, Stephany, Caleb, Kyle, and me. They're all genuinely kind people, and most of the time, I enjoy being around them. The only moments I don't are when they start asking questions about my life before I moved here. I told them my parents passed away and that I came here looking for a slower pace. They believed it, of course. The truth is, I'm living a lie—pretending to be someone I'm not.

We arrived at the bar and were greeted by Jimmy, the owner, who knows all of us by name—like I said, everyone knows everyone in this town. We ordered drinks and quickly got caught up in lively conversation. I've developed a real taste for tequila; it lifts my mood and helps me forget about life's stresses, even if just for a little while.

We arrived at the bar and were greeted by Jimmy, the owner, who knows all of us by name—like I said, everyone knows everyone in this town. We ordered drinks and quickly got caught up in lively conversation. I've developed a real taste for tequila; it lifts my mood and helps me forget about life's stresses, even if just for a little while.

At around 2:00 a.m., everyone had had enough, so we decided to call it a night. Kyle gave me a lift home—his apartment building is just a street away from mine.

Before I could step out, Kyle rested his hand on my thigh, stopping me. I turned to face him, trying to understand why. His eyes searched mine as he asked, almost pleading, why won't you give me a chance, Cassy?

I looked him in the eyes and said, "I can't. I've told you this before—I just don't have the energy for a relationship right now. I've been through a lot, and I'm still trying to piece myself back together. You wouldn't be happy with someone who's still caught up in the past and can only give you fragments of attention."

His expression fell as my words sank in. I stepped out of the car and quietly made my way to my apartment.

He's been asking me the same thing every month since I arrived in this town. I didn't even say goodbye—I just got out of the car and left. Hopefully, he finally gets the message.

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