Page 163

Cass

The week flew by much, much too fast for Cass’s comfort. They hung out, spent time with Cass’s mom, went on walks and short trips to the local playground or to Turtle Bay. They cooked together and read books to Bri together. And every night, they crawled into bed together and kissed and cuddled. They made love, too, playful and passionate, bringing each other to climax with their hands or mouths or with the sex toy Ash had stowed away, hidden deep in his big luggage bag. And one time, they even ventured beyond that, Ash coaxing Cass into coming inside him for the first time.

It was perfect, and Cass easily convinced himself everything was fine and good and that he was happy. Because he was happy. How could he not be, with everything wonderful he had right there in Redding?

Yet as Ash’s departure on Thursday approached, that barrier of optimism he’d been building up started to crumble. The process was slow, but he swore he could feel every moment slipping farther away, the threads he’d stitched together starting to break one by one.

Wednesday night, his dad came home a little bit early from work to watch Bri, and Cass surprised Ash with a night out. They went to a nice restaurant for dinner, and then Cass drove them across town to take a walk over the Sundial Bridge just after the sun set, the bridge’s colorful glowing lights making it seem almost magical.

They stayed out a bit later than Cass had planned, and when they got home, the house was quiet. Bri had gone to sleep hours ago, as had Cass’s mom and dad.

That suited Cass just fine.

He threaded his fingers through Ash’s hand as they snuck down the hallway to check in on Bri. Then he led Ash back to his room and shut the door, not bothering to turn on the light.

His chest began to ache as he slowly slipped his arms around his boyfriend’s waist, pulled him in tight, and bent slightly to kiss him. Somehow, he needed to hold onto this moment forever, to sear the memory into his mind—the feel of Ash’s body pressed up against him, the warmth of his lips, the taste of his mouth.

He broke the kiss and screwed his eyes shut as he buried his head into the crook of Ash’s neck with a quiet groan.

“What?” Ash asked softly.

Lips pressed against his temple in a gesture that should have felt reassuring. Only, Cass couldn’t push away the knowledge that this was their last night together, at least for a while. How long? If . . . if ever? Would they ever see each other again?

He’d really never questioned it before, even when leaving had been difficult and they hadn’t had a solid plan in place. Now, though, that was all he could think—that he had no idea what the future held or if them being together was even part of it, because how could it be?

At the same time, he absolutely couldn’t picture any future at all without Ash in it.

The intrusive thoughts continued to bombard him. He knew he was catastrophizing again, but he couldn’t seem to stop it.

He tightened his arms around Ash. “I’m going to miss you,” he admitted. He wanted to say more—and he knew he needed to—but no words would come.

“I’ll miss you, too.” Ash kissed Cass’s temple again. “Hopefully we can make something work for August, after the summer session is over?”

Cass nodded and then slow-walked Ash over to the bed. They both undressed, letting their clothes drop to the floor, and crawled under the covers together. Cass immediately gathered Ash up in his arms and kissed him, again and again, softly and lovingly.

And he wished so, so much that the night would never end.

Early morning sunlight peeked around the edges of the curtains, casting thin yellow beams across Ash’s beautiful face as he slept. Cass smiled, though he felt only a deep, aching sadness, and he leaned in and pressed a light, gentle kiss on Ash’s forehead.

“I love you,” he whispered, finally saying the words out loud for the first time. A sharp pain rattled his chest, and he closed his eyes and bent his head forward to rest against Ash’s.

They hadn’t talked last night. Again. Cass had avoided bringing up anything heavy or following any line of conversation that might have led to a deeper discussion about their future.

He hated himself for it, because he knew it was wrong. He knew he was actively jeopardizing everything they’d built together, and he knew that as soon as Ash left today, that feeling would be even worse. The ache and sadness he felt now would be nothing in a few hours’ time.

So he should wake Ash up with a kiss, ask to talk, and then tell him all the things that had been running circles around his brain. How much he loved Ash and Bri. How he wanted their future together so much, more than anything. How . . . he knew that future couldn’t happen. He could never abandon his parents; they needed him here. And he could never ask Ash to leave Washington.

When he listed it out like that, logically, he knew it was ridiculous. He knew they should talk about it. Adults in relationships talked about things, compromised, worked things out. And maybe it wasn’t as big a deal as his mind was telling him it was. Maybe Ash would agree to move here, after he was done with school, of course.

But that was too much to ask, wasn’t it? Insisting Ash move here, cutting him off from the places where he felt closest to his sister—the trails, the forests, the water. And taking all of that away from Bri, too.

Several times now, he’d heard Ash talk about that—about how when she was old enough, he wanted to show her all the places his sister had loved, tell her about her mother, give her the gift of growing up there, in the Seattle area, where Ashlynn had.

That was important to Ash.

Cass understood.

And so, that talk they needed to have, the one about their future together . . . it was doomed to fail.