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Cass pushed himself to his feet as he stuffed his phone into his pocket. Then he grabbed his wallet and keys from his desk, turned off the light, and headed out.
Shaina (Wednesday, November 16, 2022 – 5:33 p.m.): Tomorrow is going to fucking suck, I can already feel it
Shaina (Thursday, November 17, 2022 – 6:35 a.m.): I haven’t heard from you in days. Please text me back to let me know you’re okay
Shaina (6:35 a.m.): Or even that you’re not okay. Just let me know that you’re alive
Shaina (6:39 a.m.): Fuck, I mean call me. Please
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Ash
Ash sat on the floor in his bedroom, leaning back against the bed. The arm he was using to prop himself up shook, and he could feel it was about to give out at any moment. He didn’t care.
In front of him, Bri slept peacefully in her crib, just as she had all night long. He’d watched her. Every minute of the night. Watched her chest rising and falling with a slow, clear rhythm. Watched that her face stayed perfect and relaxed with sleep.
Light was just beginning to stream in through the window. Weak light. Because it was raining outside.
Fitting for a morning like this.
Fresh tears slid down Ash’s cheeks, and he closed his eyes only for a second before forcing them back open.
Bri shifted in her crib.
And the pain that had been working its way forward from the back of his skull finally stabbed right through the middle of his forehead. Nausea rose up in his chest, and he doubled over, collapsing onto the floor.
A sob tore from his throat, and he quickly muffled it against his forearm, not wanting to wake his niece. He couldn’t stop himself, however—the shaking, the tears, the pain pulsing through the middle of his head.
He wanted it all to go away. So, so badly.
“Un-ca Ash?”
He screwed his eyes shut tighter, cursing inwardly. Not at her, not at Bri. But at himself. At his sister for leaving him. At the world for being so fucking cruel.
“Un-ca Ash?”
Pushing himself up with one arm, he reached up and wiped the tears off his face. Then he forced himself to his feet, ignoring the stabbing pain in his head.
“Good morning, sweet girl,” he said, his voice sounding foreign and so fake in its optimism.
He had no optimism. None. At all.
Bri was standing in her crib now, watching him, and when he took a step toward her, she reached up with both hands and said his name again. “Un-ca Ash. Up. Up. Up.”
He listened, even though his arms felt almost too weak to hold her, and as soon as he lifted her up, she immediately placed both hands on his cheeks and leaned in to kiss him.
“Mwah! Ah beh-uh!”
God, how he wished it were that easy.
Forcing a smile, he nodded. “Thank you so much for that.”
Bri grinned and kissed him again. “Mwah!”
Slowly, he made himself care for her. He changed her diaper and made her breakfast—eggs and avocado slices and strawberries. Then he changed her clothes and brushed her hair. And as she sat on the floor in the living room, playing quietly with Ollie the Octopus and her favorite colorful blocks, Ash moved to the couch, lay down on his side, and wiped away another tear that had fallen down his cheek.
Bri chose then to look over at him, and her bright smile faded. She paused and watched him, and he tried. God, he tried. He tried to not look so awful for her. But he couldn’t do it. And so he closed his eyes, thinking maybe she’d be better off if she just didn’t see whatever his expression was at all.
