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“It’s beautiful out here,” I say instead, trying to keep things light at first. I’ve missed him so fucking badly it feels like I’m breathing right now for the first time in days. I don’t want to lose that by trying to get him to talk about anything that’ll make him leave.
“It is. I can’t wait for the leaves to change.” He takes another sip of coffee before handing it to me, his blue eyes bright. “Autumn is my favorite.”
“I would’ve thought summer, with how much you love to swim.”
He shrugs. “Swimming was pretty much 12 months a year for me, so it never really mattered what the weather was like. Once I got to high school, I even got my own key to use the school pool after hours and on weekends and over vacation breaks.”
“You must have been pretty damn good.”
“I swam for one of the best colleges in the country,” he says, his voice quieter now, a note of sadness beneath each word.
"I know." I place my hand on his knee, stroking my thumb in small circles there. He sighs and lets his head fall to my shoulder. It feels right. Like this is where we both belong. It scares me. Not because I don’t want this, but because of how badly I do. "I've missed you,” I admit.
"I've missed you too." He turns on the bench, his cold nose brushing my neck, one of his legs settling across my lap. I put my arm over the back of the swing so he can nestle closer. Definitely where we belong, scary or not fear. "I'm sorry I got so weird after the appointment. It was just… a lot."
"I get it. I'm not upset."
He sighs heavily. "I talked to Dr. Singh. Like, one-on-one."
"Yeah? How'd that go?"
"It sucked."
I chuckle. "Yeah. It doesn't get much better either. Has it helped, at least?"
He grabs the coffee from me and takes a sip, his eyes trained on the trees across the river. I want to give him as long as he needs to answer - or not answer, if he'd prefer - but it makes me a little itchy with worry. I distract myself by drawing patterns on the back of his hand. He shivers and moves his hand closer, a silent request for more.
"I don't know," he finally admits as I draw a diamond. "I want it to help, but it feels… I don't know."
"That's okay."
He gives the coffee back to me before pressing his face to my neck again. The shift causes his sleeve to ruck up, exposing the lower portion of his arm. The skin there is red and angry, with a bumpy texture. "What's this?"
"Nothing," he says too quickly, pulling his arm out of my grasp. "It's just a stupid rash."
"Is it itchy?"
"A little." He shrugs, his hand fisting the end of his sleeve to ensure the rash in question stays covered. "It's not a big deal."
"Can I see it? Please?"
He bites down on his bottom lip before slowly letting go of his arm and angling it toward me. I cradle it gently with my left hand, pushing the sleeve back with my right. The rash travels all the way past his elbow, where the skin seems to be chapped and flaky. "When did you notice it?"
"This morning."
"I know you've been trying to come outside more. Did you go near any trees or bushes? Any plants?"
"No." He shifts uncomfortably on the swing, his eyes darting toward the river before settling back on me. The moment our eyes lock, I realize that he knows what it's from. I also realize he doesn't want to say.
My inner daddy peeks out a little when I give him a stern look. "What's this from, Casey?"
He ducks his head. "It's… from the pool."
"The pool?" I frown, confused now. "You're sensitive to chlorine?"
"Not… usually."
"Are you not rinsing off well after your swims? Have you been using-" but I stop, realizing what the issue is. Of course, he hasn't been rinsing off well. He hasn't been rinsing off at all. Casey can't shower.
