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He looked back up when she trailed off, but her gaze had shifted to the table, and her head was now tilted too much to the left, like she was having trouble holding it up. “Ma?”

Her eyes blinked closed, but she nodded. “I love you, Caspian. You’re my sunshine,” she said, and she tightened her fingers around his again, just enough that he could feel it. “I should . . . probably go lie down for a bit now.”

“That might be a good idea,” Cass agreed. He slowly let go of her hand and stood. After making sure she was secure and ready, he pushed her in her wheelchair out of the kitchen and back to her bedroom. He spent a few more minutes helping her use the bathroom, wash her face, and take another dose of Tylenol, and then he got her settled in bed and drew the curtains closed to darken the room.

Her eyes had already shut by the time he turned back around, and he stepped over to the bed, knelt down, and brushed a light kiss on her forehead. “Sleep well, ma,” he whispered. She smiled her crooked smile, and not more than a moment later, her breathing relaxed as she fell asleep.

Cass stayed there for another minute or two, watching her rest, and when he was sure she was comfortable and not going to wake up for some time, he quietly pushed himself back up to his feet and left the room, closing the door most of the way behind him.

He paused in the hallway and reached into his pocket to pull out his phone. The screen lit up with the time—2:35 p.m.—and with a silent grimace, he turned toward his bedroom. It was early afternoon already; somehow, most of Sunday had gotten away from him. Not that he’d really had plans, since he’d known his dad had to go into work, but he’d been busy with his mom and then either cooking or cleaning or doing chores. He’d had some vague notion that he should get a jump on making dinner, but now it was too late for the slow-cooker recipe he’d had in mind. He also needed to email Mr. Peterson at the library to change his volunteer schedule, or, rather, put his volunteer work on hold for now.

He should probably do that first.

Frowning, Cass pushed open the door to his bedroom and then slipped into the chair at his desk and powered up his laptop. He sent a quick email explaining his situation—how his dad’s work schedule was going to be unpredictable for some time, even on the weekends, and so, Cass would be unable to commit to coming in, at least until things settled back down. When he was finished, he closed his laptop and leaned back in his chair with a quiet sigh.

He’d been volunteering at the local public library since he came home after graduating from UC Davis, and although the work was mostly on the weekends and only for a few hours at a time, he enjoyed it immensely. He also felt an obligation to continue helping Mr. Peterson, who had been the one to suggest Cass consider an online MLIS program to get his graduate degree so he could become a librarian himself. Mr. Peterson had continued to guide him through choosing a career path and then several school options—San Jose State University, University of Illinois Urbana-Champaign, and University of Washington—and had written a letter of recommendation for him back in November, just before the application deadlines. So the thought of pausing his volunteer work bothered him a lot more than he’d expected it would when he’d spoken with his dad the day before about the changes to his dad’s work schedule.

Mr. Peterson would understand; Cass had no doubt about that. That didn’t make it any easier, though.

His phone vibrated from his pocket, and Cass shook his head to pull himself out of his negative thoughts and then straightened up to check the notification. When he saw Joe’s name pop up on the screen, he grinned and leaned forward to rest his elbows on the desk as he clicked on the message.

Joe (2:48 p.m.): Nope. Nuh-uh. Not a chance. No.

Laughing to himself, Cass typed back a response.

Cass (2:49 p.m.): Really? Darn. Okay, so no skydiving for Joe. What about . . . Oh! What about rock climbing? You know, without a harness and ropes? What’s it called?

Joe (2:51 p.m.): Oh geez, you really want to see me die, don’t you? Free soloing, it’s called. I had a buddy back in college at UNR who went to Tahoe nearly every weekend to go climbing. He loved it but said it’s definitely not for the faint of heart. Guess I’m faint of heart. That one’s another hard NOPE

Cass (2:53 p.m.): Alright. So far we’ve got no to parachuting, paragliding, anything out on the ocean, and now skydiving and free soloing. Just what *would* you do?

Joe (2:53 p.m.): My sense of self-preservation *might* approve zip lining. But really, my feet prefer to stay on the ground

Cass (2:54 p.m.): Fair, fair. And in all honesty, zip lining is probably the only one I’d do as well

Joe (2:54 p.m.): Good man. Safety first

Cass (2:55 p.m.): lol

Joe (2:55 p.m.): Okay, ugh, break over. My sister’s dragging me back outside to finish painting the fence

Joe (2:56 p.m.): But I wanted to ask - are you free Saturday morning? I’m going running out at a trail near the Sacramento River/Keswick Dam. Supposed to be a good spot. About 5 or 6 miles rt, so not too far. Breakfast after, my treat?

Cass stared at the phone for a moment, his smile tightening as the silliness of their banter faded with Joe’s sharp pivot. He pursed his lips and leaned back in his chair, lifting his eyes toward the door. Theoretically, his dad was supposed to be home Saturday mornings; his new schedule had him working a shift Saturday afternoon until late Saturday night, then the early shift Sunday morning. Although it could change at any time.

Biting his lip, Cass glanced back down at the phone just as another message came through.

Joe (2:58 p.m.): No pressure, really. I understand

Joe (2:59 p.m.): Or if it’s that important to you, we can also plan to go bungee jumping

Joe (2:59 p.m.): I’ll just let you go first and then suddenly have a headache when they’re hauling your ass back up. Not a good idea to bungee jump with a headache, you understand

Huffing a laugh, Cass shook his head and started typing.

Cass (3:00 p.m.): lol please no bungee jumping

Cass (3:01 p.m.): And as long as you don’t mind the fact that I run slower than molasses, Saturday sounds good, assuming my dad’s schedule doesn’t change any more. He works in the afternoon, so I’ll need to be back before one to take care of my mom