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Cass hung up the phone and sighed deeply as he slipped the phone back into his pocket. A heavy silence settled between him and Joe, and he knew he needed to say something—to apologize for ducking out, to explain himself, maybe. He dropped his arm from around Joe’s shoulders.

“Sorry about that,” he managed, glancing over at Joe. He wasn’t sure what he expected, but what he saw was just . . . Joe. Kindness and understanding and a gentle, unassuming optimism. Not for the first time, he found himself wishing he felt even the smallest shred of something toward the man he’d been dating now for about a month. Especially considering everything he’d just felt merely talking on the phone with Ash.

Swallowing back his unease, Cass shook his head lightly.

“Uh, it was a friend I hadn’t heard from in a while, and he needed someone to talk to,” he explained. It was sort of a lie and sort of not at all a lie, and he wasn’t entirely sure how he felt about that.

But Joe being Joe, he took everything in stride, as he always seemed to do. “No problem, really. The Lyft should be here soon.”

“Great,” Cass said. “Thank you.”

Joe just smiled up at Cass and gave a little nod, then leaned against him as they waited for their rideshare to arrive.

Grant (Saturday, January 15, 2022 – 9:40 a.m.): A bunch of the guys are getting together tonight. I know you’re probably busy but thought I’d let you know just in case you could get a babysitter or something. Finn’s @ 8pm

Grant (Wednesday, January 26, 2022 – 8:17 p.m.): I’ve got an extra ticket for the Kraken game tomorrow night. You in?

Grant (Sunday, February 6, 2022 – 2:01 p.m.): Hey, wanna meet up on campus tomorrow for lunch? Long time no see. Hope you’re doing okay. Call me or something

Chapter Nineteen

Ash

Ash hit the button to submit his assignment at exactly 11:58 p.m., just a minute before the 11:59 p.m. deadline. Then he collapsed onto the couch on his side, closing his eyes.

Blissful silence.

Bri deciding to sleep through most of the night the last week or so had been the best thing to happen in the history of time, Ash had decided. Yet, he still found himself with a messy apartment—dirty dishes in the sink, dust gathering on the furniture, the trash overflowing—laundry needing done, and school assignments getting turned in at the very, very last second.

It was exhausting.

He should get up now. Clean the kitchen, take out the trash, and start a load of laundry, at minimum. But he couldn’t move. His body was done.

And when was the last time he’d eaten, anyway?

8:24 p.m. had been Bri’s last bottle right before bed. But Ash hadn’t had anything. Maybe not since the bagel he’d eaten for breakfast on the walk to drop Bri off at daycare, actually. The whole rest of his day had been too busy to remember food. He’d had class earlier in the day, then a meeting with one of his professors and another class before he’d had to run to the store to get diapers and wipes and formula. He’d picked up Bri from daycare at three.

Then he’d spent the next several hours keeping Bri fed, changed, and happy while frantically trying to get his big assignment done before the deadline. The midterm project was worth nearly twenty-five percent of his grade in the class, and he needed to do well.

So, yeah. He probably hadn’t eaten?

Forcing his eyes open halfway, Ash turned his head toward the kitchen, and, in a pathetic move that he only let himself do because he knew no one was around to see it, he reached out his hand and imagined he had some sort of telekinetic power to will one of the bananas in the bowl on the cluttered counter into his hand. When it predictably didn’t work, he groaned and dropped his hand, and then he dragged himself up off the couch. He shuffled over to the counter, slumped down onto the stool there, and pushed a stack of papers and bills and a random pacifier out of the way. Then he grabbed the least brown of the remaining bananas from the bowl, peeled it, and forced himself to eat.

His phone buzzed in his pocket just as he shoved the last bite into his mouth. Leaving the peel on the counter—because he’d clean up in a few minutes, when his body had time to register that he’d eaten something—he stumbled back over to the couch and pulled out his phone. Then he promptly collapsed onto his back again.

The text message was from Cass, and even before he opened it, Ash found an eager anticipation spreading through his chest. He turned onto his side and clicked.

Cass (12:05 a.m.): Did you finish?

Cass (12:06 a.m.): Actually, scratch that. My *real* question is how does it feel now that you’re finished?

Ash (12:06 a.m.): Oh ye of little faith

Ash (12:07 a.m.): Hit the submit button with an entire minute to spare

Cass (12:07 a.m.): Masterful

Ash (12:07 a.m.): Indeed