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That didn’t help. At all. Cass didn’t know how to respond, either. And—
Shit.
Cass’s eyes darted to the top right corner of his phone screen.
Wednesday, November 16.
God, how had he not realized it sooner?
He swallowed hard and shook his head as he typed out another message.
Cass (7:09 p.m.): Please let me call you
Cass (7:09 p.m.): I mean
He hit send, even though the message was incomplete, and closed his eyes.
Everyone grieved differently. He knew that. And while he’d never lost someone very close to him, he had friends and family members who had; he understood, at least as well as he could, how hard it could be on those left behind.
He imagined it would be even worse for Ash—having already lost his parents and then to have also lost his twin. Tomorrow—Thursday, November 17—would be the first “anniversary” of that loss.
Ash probably couldn’t concentrate because of that. He probably felt more alone than ever. And he probably—
Cass shook his head again.
Cass (7:10 p.m.): I mean, please, if you need to talk, if you think it would help you to talk - about anything at all - please know that I’m here, any hour of the day or night
Ash (7:11 p.m.): ty
The message came through right away but didn’t tell Cass anything about how Ash was really feeling.
He wanted to say more. He wanted to hear Ash’s voice, to know that Ash understood he wasn’t alone. But there really wasn’t any more he could do right now, unless Ash decided he wanted to talk.
And even if Ash wanted to talk, why would he choose to talk to Cass, anyway? He’d probably rather call Shaina or Joanna and Henry. Or maybe Grant. He’d known all of them for much, much longer than he’d known Cass, and he was probably closer to them, too. They were all probably grieving with him.
In fact, he’d probably already connected with them at some point today. And hopefully he’d connect with them tomorrow, too, when everything would undoubtedly feel even worse.
A familiar spike of worry rattled Cass’s chest, and he quickly glanced back down at his phone.
Ash (7:11 p.m.): ty
He could almost hear Ash’s sadness in the short text. And he could feel a numbness, an emptiness. Defeat.
He really shouldn’t say more. He knew that.
But he had to. He had to send just one more message—those words he somehow knew Ash needed to hear.
Cass (7:15 p.m.): You’re not alone <3
He didn’t wait for a response, and honestly, he didn’t even expect one.
Instead, he scrolled down to Brendan’s messages from the day before and typed out a short request.
Cass (7:17 p.m.): Hey, you free for a beer?
Brendan (7:17 p.m.): Fuck yeah. Come over. The Kings game just started
Cass (7:18 p.m.): Be there in five
