Just This Once (Again) - Part Five: The Line We Cross (and What Comes After)

 

Some lines once crossed, can’t be uncrossed.

Cassidy and Dean have spent every moment fighting what they feel, wrapped in grief and guilt and the weight of everything they lost. But now—after one night that changed everything—they’re finally forced to face the truth they’ve been avoiding.

One of them wants to walk away.
The other lays it all on the line.

Because love doesn’t wait until you’re ready.
Sometimes, it just asks if you’re willing.

Would you keep reading?

Is this the kind of messy, emotional, forbidden love story you’d want more of?

Let me know in the comments — because your answer might just decide what happens next.

Just This Once (Again)

Part Two: 

The Next Morning

I wake up to sunlight cutting through the blinds and the soft, even rhythm of Dean’s breathing beside me.

His arm is still wrapped around my waist, warm and heavy. One leg tangled with mine, like even in sleep, he’s afraid to let go.

For a second, I let myself pretend.

That we’re not hiding. That nothing about this is wrong. That I don’t feel the crushing weight of reality pressing against the edges of the morning light.

But I blink, and it’s there.

Guilt. Grief. And something that feels dangerously close to love.

Dean stirs, his grip tightening. He presses a kiss to my bare shoulder, voice thick with sleep. “You okay?”

I nod before I even think. “Yeah.”

He shifts, propping himself on one elbow. “You sure?”

No. But I lie again. “Yeah.”

I slip out from under the covers a few minutes later, grabbing his shirt from the floor and pulling it on.

The house is still quiet. Morning light filters through the curtains, soft and golden, but it doesn’t soothe the ache in my chest.

I’m almost to the kitchen when I hear a knock.

I freeze.

It’s light at first, then firmer. And then Claire’s voice, “Cass? You home?”

My blood runs cold.

I spin back toward the bedroom. Dean’s standing in the doorway now, shirtless, hair a mess, pants half-zipped.

“Shit,” he mutters.

“Stay in the bedroom,” I whisper, pointing.

He vanishes back inside just as a knock sounds at the front door again.

My stomach drops. I hurry to answer it, yanking it open and forcing a smile.

“Hey,” I say, breathless. “What’s up?”

Claire stands on the porch holding up a coffee. “You left the party fast. I figured you’d need this.”

I take it with a grateful smile, trying not to glance over my shoulder. “You’re a lifesaver.”

She leans in, lowering her voice. “You okay?”

I nod quickly, a little too quickly. “Just tired. Long night.”

Claire studies me for a second, her eyes narrowing slightly  like she might push, but then her phone buzzes. She glances at it, sighs, and says, Claire winces at her phone. “My boss needs me to jump on a call. Because clearly, weekends are a myth.”

“Good luck,” I say with a half-laugh and I hug her..

She gives me a look, then walks off toward her car.

I shut the door and exhale, my whole body sagging.

Behind me, the bedroom door creaks open. Dean steps out slowly, barefoot and rumpled, pants slung low on his hips, chest bare, because I’m still wearing his shirt.

 His eyes land on me like he’s trying to read every thought I didn’t say.

He turns to look at me, expression unreadable. “Do you regret it?”

I should lie. Say yes. Pretend this was just grief again. A slip.

But I can’t.

“No,” I say softly. “Do you?”

His answer is too slow.

And that’s all it takes for the panic to set in.

I cross my arms, suddenly cold. “Maybe we should stop.”

Dean flinches like I hit him. “Cassidy…”

“This isn’t sustainable,” I say, trying to keep my voice steady. “We almost got caught. And it’s not fair to anyone, especially Ben’s family—”

He closes the space between us in two long strides. “It’s not about them. It’s about us.”

“No,” I snap, louder than I mean to. “It’s about everything. It’s about the fact that I’m still wearing my dead husband’s ring, and you’re his best friend. That we’re sneaking around like we’re doing something dirty when I—”

“When you what?” he asks, voice rough.

I don’t answer.

“Cass,” he says again, softer now. “Look at me.”

I do. And I hate what I see, because it’s not guilt in his eyes. It’s not lust or confusion.

It’s something so real it makes my chest ache.

“I tried to stay away,” he says. “I told myself it was the right thing. That walking away from you meant I was honoring him.”

“And now?”

He exhales. “Now I think walking away from you might’ve been the worst thing I’ve ever done.”

My breath catches.

“Do you think this is easy for me?” he says, his voice raw. “Do you think I don’t lie awake at night thinking about Ben? About how fucked this is?”

“Then why are we doing it?” I whisper.

“Because I’m in love with you.”

The room tilts.

“I don’t know when it happened. Maybe it was before Ben died. Maybe I ignored it for too long. But I know it now. I feel it every time I look at you.”

Tears sting my eyes, but I blink them back.

“He was your husband,” he says, stepping closer.

His words hang in the air, soft but irrevocable.

Dean's voice cracks, low and ragged. “I’m in love with you.”

The words land between us like a tremor, shifting the ground beneath my feet. My breath stutters.

He swallows hard, gaze locked on mine. “He was your husband,” he says, voice barely more than a whisper, thick with guilt and truth and everything he’s tried not to feel.

I step toward him, my own voice shaking. “And you’re the one I need.”

I expect relief. Maybe even peace. But all I feel is raw.

Like the truth just stripped me bare. Dean doesn’t move. Doesn’t reach for me. He just watches, like he knows it has to be me this time.

That if we take another step forward, it has to be mine.

“I don’t know how to do this,” I admit, voice barely a whisper. “I don’t know how to love you without feeling like I’m betraying him.”

“You’re not,” he says quietly. “You’re grieving him. And maybe I am too. But that doesn’t make what’s between us wrong.”

I shake my head. “But it feels like—”

“Feels like we’re still alive?” he interrupts. “Like we’re not just ghosts orbiting a memory?”

My chest aches. “It feels like I’m standing in two worlds. One where I’m still Ben’s wife. And one where I’m… yours.”

Dean finally steps forward, reaching up to brush his fingers over my cheek. “You don’t have to choose today. You don’t have to choose at all. Just… don’t run.”

I look at him, really look at him. At the man who held my hand at Ben’s funeral. Who left because he thought it was the right thing. Who came back because he couldn’t stay away. The man I’ve loved longer than I married.

“You make it sound so simple,” I say, tears burning now.

“It’s not. It’s going to be messy and hard and probably painful as hell. But it’s real.”

I exhale slowly. “And if we hurt people?”

“We’ll deal with it. Together.”

That word, together, lodges in my throat like something sacred.

I nod, not because I have the answers, but because I know one thing, I don’t want to lose him too.

Dean pulls me into his arms, his forehead pressed to mine. We stand like that for a long time, the only sound is our uneven breaths.

And when I finally speak again, it’s not a promise or a plan.

It’s just the truth.

“I don’t know where this goes.” I whisper.

He kisses my temple, lingering there. “Then let’s find out. One day at a time.”

The End… Let me know if you want more of Dean and Cassidy. I’m happy to write more of them!

Copyright © by LS Phoenix

No portion of this story may be reproduced in any form without written permission from the publisher or author, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law.

Published by LS Phoenix

New Hampshire, USA

https://linktr.ee/authorlsphoenix

First Edition: August 2025

Cover Design by LS Phoenix