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“Yeah. It . . . it was really scary for me.” Cass’s hands fidgeted in his lap. Ash wanted to reach over and comfort him, but he didn’t move. “And I think that’s when it started to get into my head that, um . . . that this thing between us couldn’t ever work out.”

The words tore at Ash’s heart, and he lowered his eyes, his jaw tightening.

Cass continued, his voice shaky and low. “It got worse and worse. And I convinced myself, somehow, that, um . . . that I shouldn’t talk to you about it, because it would just hurt you. Even though I knew it was already hurting you.”

“But why—”

“Because my mom,” Cass cut in, the words forced out on a fast breath. “B-because I can’t leave them—my parents. They need me. And—and I had seen how happy you were up here, when we went hiking at Snow Lake. I saw that you need to be here, where you feel close to your sister. And all I could think, over and over and over, was that I needed to be there, in California, with my parents. You needed to be here, and I needed to be there. And that was never going to change. And so, it all started to spiral in my head. I knew I was hurting you by keeping you in the dark—you could see I was struggling, and you asked me what was wrong more than once, and I couldn’t tell you. I couldn’t do it. So I lied. I—I hated that, and I’m so, so sorry. In my head, any conversation I started would inevitably end with us . . . being . . . done and w-with you—” Cass shook his head and reached up to swipe at his eyes before returning his hand to his lap. “I couldn’t talk to you because I couldn’t hurt you like that, but I was hurting you—both of us, really—by not talking to you. It was a vicious cycle that just kept getting worse the longer I let it go on.”

Ash closed his eyes for a second and nodded slowly. He understood now, sort of. He’d already known they were going to have to make some big compromises at some point down the road. Right from the beginning, he’d seen how important Cass’s parents were to him and how he felt responsible for helping out with his mom’s care. Ash wouldn’t have expected Cass to just abandon them. But Cass was also right that Ash felt a need to be here, in Washington, where he’d grown up. All of his memories of his family—including his parents—were here, and he did want to raise Bri here too.

But it still hurt, especially hearing Cass admit he’d deliberately lied.

“We have to talk about these things, Cass,” he said quietly. “Even if they’re hard, and even if it’s uncomfortable.” He scooted forward in his chair until his knees bumped Cass’s. Then he reached out and covered Cass’s hands with his own. Cass stopped fidgeting.

“I know,” Cass mumbled. “I even knew that as I was actively pushing you away. I hated myself for it. I’m so sorry. I couldn’t . . . I couldn’t stop . . . assuming the worst.”

“Me too,” Ash admitted. “I thought . . .” He couldn’t finish the sentence, and when he glanced up, the pain in Cass’s expression had deepened.

“I’m sorry, Ash,” Cass repeated. A tear slipped down his cheek.

Ash swallowed and squeezed Cass’s hands. “What changed?” he asked. “I mean, why are you here now? You’re not still . . . ‘assuming the worst’?”

Cass shook his head but didn’t answer right away, and Bri took that moment to remind them she was there, running over with a brightly colored block in each hand.

“One for Cass!” she said, handing Cass a blue block. She then gave Ash a yellow block. “And one for Un-ca Ash! I hungry. We have cake?”

Ash couldn’t not laugh at that. “No, sweet girl, we don’t have cake. But”—he set the block on the table and stood, lifting her up with him—“we do have leftover raviolis from yesterday. How does that sound?”

She made a pouty face but reluctantly agreed that they didn’t have to have cake for dinner. Ash settled her in her high chair and then heated up a bowl of cheese-and-spinach raviolis for her. He wasn’t hungry, and neither was Cass, so they let her eat while they continued talking.

It took Cass a moment to get started again, and Ash didn’t miss the way he lowered his voice and how he couldn’t look Ash in the eye when he began speaking.

“I’m here because I love you,” he said.

“I love you, too.” Ash settled his hands on top of Cass’s again.

Cass closed his eyes and continued. “I thought—I mean, I really, honestly thought there was no way. And it was tearing me up, and like I said before, the longer the thoughts were there, the worse they got, and I had myself convinced I had to—to b-break up with you because it would only get harder.”

“Cass . . .”

“I wasn’t thinking clearly. My—my parents finally got me to talk to them last night. And—and they . . .” Cass lifted his chin and managed to hold Ash’s gaze for a few seconds this time before dropping his eyes back to their hands with a dry laugh. “They knocked some sense into me.”

Ash frowned, but Cass continued before he could say anything.

“They told me they’ve never expected me to stay home and not work and just take care of my mom forever, and I guess they’ve been talking about it for a while, now—about what will happen in the future, when I’m done with school or when I”—he smiled weakly and glanced up at Ash—“find someone. And um, they said they’ve been making plans for my dad to retire when he turns sixty next year, so he can be with my mom full time. They’ve thought about selling the house, too, and moving into a condo or something smaller that will be easier to maintain. And they said—” His voice caught, and for the first time that evening, his expression seemed to light up a little. “They told me they are not opposed to moving to stay close to me if—if you and I wanted to be together.”

“Really?” The word slipped out before Ash could stop it.

Cass nodded. “Yeah. I mean, it won’t be right away. My dad is hoping to wait to retire until he’s sixty because of how his pension works. But after that . . .”

Ash stood, pulling Cass up with him, and he wrapped his arms tightly around Cass’s waist. Cass returned the embrace, burying his head in the crook of Ash’s neck. Cass was still trembling, and now that Ash held him, he could feel it. He squeezed tighter and turned his head to press a kiss to Cass’s cheek.

“I would really like to talk more about all of that, about the future,” he said softly. “Because that’s what I want more than anything—a future with you.”

Cass inhaled sharply and nodded again, still clinging to Ash. “I’ll do better, too. I promise. I’m so sorry for—”

Ash cut off his apology with a kiss that quickly deepened, both of them seeking comfort in it.