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Chapter Fifty-Four
Cass
Cass’s phone rang from his pocket for the third time that evening. Hiding his pain behind a fake, sheepish smile, he ducked his head, pulled the phone out, and pretended not to see Ash’s name light up the screen as he powered it down without answering.
He must love torturing himself.
That was the only explanation for why he hadn’t set his phone on silent sooner and why he’d still been letting himself hear it ring every time Ash called. As a punishment.
Sunday had been bad enough—getting all of Ash’s text messages throughout the day and seeing as his tone slowly became more and more unsure and reserved. Ash’s plea for a call so they could talk had hit Cass hard, and he hated himself for outright ignoring it, pretending he hadn’t seen it and then going about the rest of his evening and night. Ash had called, then. Twice. And left a voicemail.
Cass had made himself listen to it, though he’d cried into his pillow when he heard the confusion and sadness in Ash’s voice.
Yesterday had been even worse, his guilt and shame and heartbreak continuing to build when Ash’s desperate string of text messages had come through near the end of the day.
I’m really worried. Please call me
Whatever it is, we can talk about it
Did I do something wrong? I can’t fix it if I don’t know what the problem is
He’d left them all unanswered.
Ash had called again, too, but hadn’t left a voicemail that time.
And Cass didn’t blame him. He fully blamed himself. For everything. He just felt paralyzed. Completely and utterly unable to do what he knew he needed to.
“Can I get you more potatoes or anything, ma?”
He pasted another of those nauseating, fake smiles on his face and forced himself to glance up across the table. His mom had finished the last bites of her dinner, her good hand shaking slightly as she set her spoon down, and his dad sat next to her, leaning back in his chair with his reading glasses perched on his nose as he worked on the crossword puzzle from yesterday’s newspaper.
Both of them looked concerned. Especially his dad.
His mom spoke after another moment, her expression softening as she gave a small shake of her head. “No, dear, I think I’m pretty full.”
“Okay. How about you, Dad?”
His dad’s frown deepened, and he shook his head as well.
With a nod, Cass pushed back his chair and stood, starting to gather the dishes so he could wash them. When he reached over to take his mom’s plate, his dad cleared his throat. Cass froze, his jaw clenching.
“I’ll handle the dishes tonight,” the older man said.
Cass’s mom added quietly, “So you can call your boyfriend back.”
His shoulders tensed, and he held himself still for a count of three before he managed to look back up. His dad was standing now, pushing the chair back in as he began stacking the used dinner plates and dishes. And his mom’s smile had faded, her eyes worried.
Immediately, he shook his head. “No, no, Dad, please, let me—”
“Caspian.” His mom’s good hand settled on top of his and squeezed lightly, cutting off his protest.
Cass dropped his chin. “Sorry, ma, I just, um . . .”
What could he even say? He’d been avoiding Ash for days now, and he felt terrible about it. Had he ever done anything like this before? Something he knew was one hundred percent the wrong thing to do, knowingly hurting someone else, all so he wouldn’t have to face reality and deal with the impossible issue of their future?
No.
He hadn’t.
