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“Ah, actually, let’s do it together. It’ll be easier that way.”

“Yeah, okay,” he agreed, and she looped her arm through his and led him into the kitchen.

Joe (Saturday, December 25, 2021 – 8:14 a.m.): Merry Christmas!

Joe (8:15 a.m.): Safe travels today. I hope your mom handles the trip well. If you’re free tomorrow, I’m cooking a pot roast. I’d love to have you over :)

Chapter Sixteen

Cass

Cass pushed his mother’s wheelchair slowly down his uncle’s driveway and out to his car, only half listening as Aunt Sally rattled off the ingredients for the German chocolate cake she’d served for dessert. Behind him, his dad walked next to Uncle Dan, the two deep in discussion about some fishing location Dan had found a few weeks ago.

He gently stopped the wheelchair and set the brake, then reached into his pocket for his key fob as Sally knelt down next to the wheelchair and took his mom’s hand.

“So, I’ll send an email with the recipe, how does that sound, Paula?” Sally suggested.

Cass stole a glance at his mom as he stepped around to the car and opened up the rear passenger side door. Her head was tilted slightly to the right, but she was smiling a tired half smile. She looked happy.

“Yes, that works,” she said, though her s’s were slurred and the words were slow.

Sally patted her hand and then stood and gave Cass a small smile. “It was good to see you, sweetheart,” she said, and she stepped up to hug him, her arms wrapping low around his waist. “You’re taking good care of her,” Sally whispered in his ear as he bent over and returned the embrace. “Thank you for that.”

She squeezed him tightly for another few seconds, then released him and straightened up, her eyes soft. Cass nodded in acknowledgement but didn’t say anything, and Sally moved back so Dan could say his goodbyes as well.

That took a little longer.

Dan lingered there with his sister, talking to her with a quiet, gentle tone Cass knew all too well now. He missed her, and he was worried about her, Dan said. And he’d come up to visit when he could. More often. She assured him it was fine, though her speech continued to deteriorate with every word, it seemed.

She was exhausted.

Finally, Dan hugged her, kissed her forehead softly, and stood, and Cass stepped in to help move his mom into the car. It was another slow process, one that took all of his concentration and the rest of whatever energy he had as well. By the time he had her in her seat with the seat belt fastened, his dad had put the wheelchair in the trunk and was hugging Sally and Dan goodbye. Less than five minutes later, they were on the road, heading north toward home, Cass driving and his dad sitting in the back seat with his mom.

His mom and dad talked quietly for a few minutes, though when Cass glanced at them in the rearview mirror as he merged onto I-5, his mom had closed her eyes and was leaning up against his dad, probably almost asleep. His dad gave him a tired half smile.

“You’re okay to drive? It’ll be late when we get home,” he said quietly.

Cass nodded. “Yeah, no problem. You rest.”

The car grew silent, and the next time Cass glanced at them in the rearview mirror, his dad’s eyes were closed as well. He continued driving north, his mind wandering in the same predictable direction it had been for a couple of weeks now. When he stopped for gas a little more than halfway home, in a tiny town called Willows, he stood outside the car while the gas tank filled, pulled his coat around himself tighter to stave off the chilly breeze, and took his phone out of his pocket.

He leaned back against the car and scrolled quickly through the mess of notifications to find the one he was hoping for.

Ash (3:46 p.m.): Merry Christmas from me and Bri!

Cass read the words, but his eyes were immediately drawn to the photo underneath the short message. Ash’s bright blue eyes smiled at him through the phone screen, and something inside Cass stirred. He inhaled slowly, taking in all the details—big and small. Ash held Bri, who was dressed in some Christmas-themed onesie and had a red bow pinned in her dark hair. The baby was reaching up to touch her uncle’s face, her cheeks pink and pudgy as she seemed to be laughing with joy. And Ash . . .

Cass clicked on the photo and then used his fingers to enlarge it slightly. His breath caught this time, the deep blue eyes staring back at him tugging at his heart. It was the first picture Ash had sent him, and it seemed a reminder, too, that Cass hadn’t been imagining things back on that day a couple of weeks ago.

Ash really was gorgeous.

He had barely a hint of stubble on his jaw, and his full lips were turned upward slightly in a warm, comfortable smile that was so different from the smile Cass remembered. A few strands of messy curls fell over his forehead, and Cass itched to know what it would feel like to reach out and brush his hair back.

The thought made Cass’s heart jump in his chest, and he blinked and forced his eyes away long enough to check on the gas pump, which still had another couple of gallons to go. Then he bit his lip and looked back down at his phone as he tried to formulate a response.

Cass (8:22 p.m.): Awww, baby’s first Christmas! She looks so happy! Your sister must love that you’re so good with her

The gas pump clicked off, and Cass quickly typed another text.