Just This Once (Again) - Part Two: Aftermath and Avoidance

They lost the same man. But only one of them walked away.

One week after the funeral, Cassidy shows up at a party she never wanted to attend—only to come face-to-face with the one person who hasn’t said a word since the day everything shattered.

Just This Once (Again)

Part Two: 

Aftermath and Avoidance

It’s been a week.

Seven days of answering messages I don’t remember reading. Of casseroles wrapped in tinfoil stacked in the freezer. Of people saying they’re sorry, too loud, too long, and too often.

But not him.

Dean hasn’t called. He hasn’t even texted.

Not even a hey, or a how are you holding up.

I kept checking my phone the first few days. Turning the ringer up. Leaving it face-up on the table like I was waiting on something I knew wasn’t coming.

It’s almost funny, the silence from him is louder than all the condolences combined.

He just disappeared.

No note. No call. Just nothing.

I thought maybe he’d check in. Not because of what happened between us, but because of Ben. Because he was his best friend. Because we lost him together.

But maybe that’s why he stayed away. Maybe he can’t face me without seeing the man we both lost.

Or maybe I’m the one he regrets.

And maybe that’s for the best. Maybe it was mercy.

Because every time I close my eyes, I don’t see the casket. I see his hands on my hips. Feel his mouth on my neck. The way his breath shook when he kissed me like he wasn’t supposed to like it.

And I see myself kissing him back.

That night ended the way it had to, with a slammed door and silence thick enough to choke on.

I’d pulled away first.

Said “This can’t happen” with my back pressed to the wall and my heart threatening to beat through my ribs.

Dean didn’t argue let alone speak. He just stood there.

Like a man who’d already lost something he knew he shouldn’t have wanted in the first place.

And then he left.

…………

I still haven’t washed the sheets on our bed, well… my bed I guess.

But I moved back into the bedroom. That’s something, I suppose.

Grief is a strange kind of storm.

Some days it floods everything. Others, it just leaves you cold and soggy in the middle of a room you don’t remember walking into.

Today is one of those days.

I’m staring at the kitchen sink when my sister calls.

“Cass,” she says, immediately suspicious. “You sound terrible.”

I blink. “Thanks.”

“I mean… you need to get out of that house,” she says, exasperated but trying to sound gentle. “You haven’t done anything in a week. Come to the party. It’s just a small engagement thing. Nothing fancy. Maybe it’ll be good for you.”

I close my eyes. “I don’t want to see people.”

“You don’t have to talk to anyone. Just show up. Hug me. Eat a cookie. I don’t know, fake a smile and judge my in-laws.”

“I don’t think I’m ready.”

“You won’t ever be if you don’t try.”

Then, softer: “It’s not about him, Cass. It’s about you. You need to breathe.”

She’s not wrong.

I’ve been holding my breath since the day they lowered the casket into the ground.

…………

I get dressed slowly. Nothing fancy, just a simple black dress that’s been sitting in the back of my closet, still tagged. Ben bought it for me last year. I told him I’d wear it the next time we had a reason to go out.

He brought it home in a box with tissue paper and a stupid little bow. Said he saw it on the mannequin and thought of me.

“Next time we go out,” he said.

We never did.

I tug it on like armor and pair it with low heels I haven’t worn in years.

I stare at myself in the mirror for entirely too long. I’m too pale and look… tired. There are faint shadows under my eyes that no amount of concealer can fix.

My lipstick looks too bright. Like it belongs to someone who feels better than I do.

I swipe it off and put it back on twice before I give up and leave it smudged at the edges.

Ben would’ve told me I looked beautiful.

I tell myself I’m doing this for Claire. Not for me.

Dean… I don’t even know what he’d say anymore.

And maybe seeing people will help.

I also don’t think Dean will be there.

He wouldn’t be. Would he?

…………

The house is already packed when I pull up. Warm light spills through the windows. Laughter trickles out the front door. I clutch the steering wheel for three whole minutes before finally stepping out into the night.

I rehearse a smile on the walk up.

Tuck my hair behind my ear and try to remember how to be normal. If there is such a thing.

I make it to the door. Someone’s cousin lets me in. I’m hit with the scent of wine and sugar cookies and candles trying too hard to smell like a forest.

“Cassidy!”

My sister, Claire’s voice breaks through the noise as she weaves toward me in a blue dress and heels she can’t walk in. She throws her arms around me like it hasn’t only been a few days.

“I’m so glad you came,” she whispers, squeezing too hard.

I nod into her shoulder. “I’m trying.”

“I know.” She pulls back, brushing a strand of hair from my face. “You’re here. That’s enough.”

I start to breathe a little easier.

For a second, it almost feels okay. Like maybe I can survive this.

The music hums low, someone laughs from the kitchen, and I think—just briefly—maybe Claire was right.

Maybe I needed this.

Until I look past her. And see… Dean.

Standing in the corner. Wearing a dark button-up with the sleeves rolled and his jaw clenched tight.

He hasn’t seen me yet. Or maybe he has, and he’s just not moving. Like if he stands still long enough, he can turn invisible.

But he can’t.

Not from me.

And not when he’s standing beside the groom.

I blink once.

Twice.

My stomach sinks as the pieces start to click.

Because I recognize the groom. And now I know why Dean’s here.

It’s Matt, Dean’s younger brother.

The groom Claire’s been fussing over for weeks—helping his fiancée plan this party. Of course she’s a bridesmaid.

I just never asked who the groom was.

I should’ve known.

She mentioned the dress. The cake. The playlist.

I just didn’t ask the right questions.

Maybe I didn’t want to know.

Well, I know now.

And when our eyes almost meet, my heart stops. The breath leaves my body, and everything comes rushing back, breaking something open in me all over again.

To be continued… Come back tomorrow for Part Three.

Copyright © by LS Phoenix

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Published by LS Phoenix

New Hampshire, USA

https://linktr.ee/authorlsphoenix

First Edition: August 2025

Cover Design by LS Phoenix