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Because that wasn’t who he was.
Or apparently, it was. Apparently, he did have it in him to hurt the man he loved, all because he was scared—terrified, actually—of losing him.
It made no sense.
His dad set the stack of dishes in the sink, the sound jarring Cass back to the present. He lifted his chin again, meeting his mom’s eyes.
“If you can’t talk to him,” his mom said, patting Cass’s hand, “sit and talk to me. It’s not good for you to keep everything bottled up all the time.”
She was right. Again. And yet, the prospect of telling her what was bothering him almost hurt as much as the prospect of telling Ash. For about the entire first year after her stroke, she’d struggled with heavy guilt herself. He remembered how she used to apologize to him almost weekly, ashamed that he’d put his life on hold for her. He’d never wanted her to feel that way. Even now, even with all the pain, even with the fact that his whole future was being put on hold, or worse, he still didn’t want her to feel that way.
But he couldn’t lie to her. And she was right. He did need to let it out.
And maybe if he talked to them, it would be easier to accept the inevitable and tell Ash.
His heart ripped in two at the thought, and he let out a shuddering breath as he slumped back into his chair. “I don’t . . . I don’t know where to start,” he admitted. He rested his elbows on the table and lowered his head to his hands.
His chest hurt, and he could feel the buzz of anxiety starting in his fingers.
“Did something happen between you and Ash?” his mom prompted, her voice soft and sweet and understanding.
He wished he felt reassured by it.
He forced a breath and then shook his head. “Not really.”
“Well, then,” his dad said, “why’ve you been avoiding the man’s calls for the last several days, kiddo?” The water turned on at the sink, and Cass heard the sound of his dad scrubbing a plate.
He screwed his eyes shut and swallowed hard. The urge to avoid answering the question, to duck away, shake his head, deny . . . it was nearly overpowering. The shame and guilt were worse, however.
“Because I have to,” he said, and when he realized that would make no sense to them, he raked a hand through his hair and tried again. “I mean, because I—” His voice cracked, and he clenched his jaw, suddenly angry at himself for the whole mess. It was a mess. A mess he’d started because he’d been too naïve and too optimistic and hadn’t thought things through. And now he was going to hurt Ash in the worst way.
And that hurt him so much.
His dad had stopped scrubbing dishes and was facing him, resting against the counter while drying his hands on a dish towel. His expression was oddly understanding and gentle, like Cass’s mom’s; only, he wasn’t used to seeing that from his dad.
He dropped his eyes to his hands again and said, “Ash deserves more than I can give him. More than I’ll ever be able to give him.”
“Now, why would you say that?” his mom asked softly.
Cass shook his head. “Because I won’t ever be able to be there with him, ma. Not for more than a few days at a time. And that’s no one’s fault or anything. It’s just how it is.” Something inside him shattered, an aching grief assaulting him from every direction, and he reached up and rubbed his eyes, desperate to not cry in front of his dad. “I love him,” he said. “I love him so much, but we have no future together, and I’ve been avoiding him because I can’t get myself to tell him that. It’s not fair to him. It’s not right. But it hurts too much.”
There was silence in the room around him, and Cass couldn’t take it. He shook his head again and wiped his eyes, cursing at himself under his breath for the tears that had started to fall. Then he pushed himself back from the table and stood, his eyes firmly trained on the ground.
“If you’re doing the dishes, Dad, I’m gonna—”
“Caspian,” his mom cut back in, her voice still soft and kind.
He ignored her.
“I’m gonna go to bed early tonight, and—”
His dad’s hand set heavily on his shoulder, and he found himself being turned around. Then two strong arms wrapped around him, pulling him into a warm, solid hug. He closed his eyes and returned the embrace as an immediate sense of relief and comfort washed over him.
“We should talk, kiddo,” his dad said quietly. “Your mom and I have some things to share with you. And I think it might help.”
Cass (Wednesday, June 21, 2023 – 1:09 a.m.): <3
Chapter Fifty-Five
