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“Oh, no, no, Caspian,” his mom said gently. She let out a soft breath, like a weak laugh, and Cass glanced back up to see her look at his dad.

“We’ll pay for the flight.”

Cass’s stomach clenched. “But I—”

“We’ll pay for it,” his dad repeated, a little more firmly this time. Cass dropped his eyes again. “You do so much around here to help both of us, and you never really ask for anything in return.”

“We want you to be happy, Caspian,” his mom added, and his dad agreed with a quiet hum.

It was so generous of them, and he both loved and hated it at the same time, excitement and eagerness warring with all the built-up shame and guilt he had over money matters.

April. Four months. He could get to see Ash in four months.

He closed his eyes as his heart stuttered, and even though his internal monologue continued to berate him over not being able to pay for the flight himself and taking away his dad’s hard-earned money just so he’d have a chance to hug his boyfriend in person, Cass nodded, keeping his chin down.

“I would really, really appreciate that,” he said. “A whole lot.”

Cass sat in front of his mom, studying her face. “I think that’s good? I love the color, ma. What do you think?” He set down the eyeshadow he’d just applied and held up a mirror for her.

Her crooked smile grew on one side, and she gave a soft nod. “I like it too,” she said.

“Alright, good. Ready then?”

“Yes, I think so. If your father is.”

Cass stood, took a moment to put away his mom’s makeup, and then pushed her wheelchair out of the bedroom and down the hallway. His dad stepped in from outside, pulling his coat tight around him and shaking his head.

“It’s cold. Let me grab you another coat before we leave, dear,” his dad said softly to his mom.

Cass stopped the wheelchair and waited while his dad got his mom’s heavier coat and helped her put it on. Then the three of them headed outside to the car, where Cass helped his mom into the front seat and loaded the wheelchair in the trunk, shuffling around the presents his dad had packed earlier to make room.

A few minutes later, they were on the road and headed south toward Stockton to spend most of the day with family. Cass sat in the back seat, and though he’d cracked open the book he’d brought to read, he found himself staring at the page, his eyes not really seeing the words.

“. . . the four-day weekend’s all ours.” Cass’s dad lifted his mom’s hand and brought it to his lips, kissing her knuckles softly, though he kept his eyes on the road. “I do wish it could be sooner, but work is going to be busy for the next couple months.”

His mom hummed quietly. “April is better anyway,” she said, her voice its usual slow pace. “The weather.”

“True.”

“We’ll see the symphony? It’s been years.”

“I already bought the tickets.”

His mom laughed lightly. “And to see the Giants play?”

“Their schedule didn’t really factor into my planning. I was more concerned about the symphony for you.”

“So, that’s a yes.”

“I managed to snag us seats right along the third-base line,” his dad admitted sheepishly.

Cass smiled to himself and closed his book, listening as his parents continued their conversation in the front seat. They talked so easily, a quiet intimacy and softness between them that spoke of how deep their love was.

He longed for that.

And he longed for that with Ash.

The thought made his heart soar and yearn at the same time, and he stared out the window for a few minutes, his eyes unfocused, as he let the feeling settle in him. He didn’t know exactly what to call it, but it felt incredible and hopeful and bright.