Page 9

“Yeah, sorry about that, man. We’ll go to Pete’s or Westside or something this time? Dinner and drinks, not just a shitty dive bar. And it’ll be on me. Sound better?”

Cass laughed but nodded. “Yeah, okay. Just . . . my dad’s schedule is all off with everything going on, so I’ll have to check with him first. Text me, and I’ll let you know.”

“Alright. Thanks again, Cass. See ya, hopefully tomorrow.” With a final nod, Brendan rolled up his window and then pulled his truck onto the road and drove off.

A stiff gust of bitterly cold air blew, and Cass cursed quietly as he reached up and adjusted his beanie, then stuffed his hands into the pockets of his coat. He spun around and jogged back to his dad’s truck, which he’d left parked along the edge of the road, hazard lights flashing, while they’d been helping Mrs. Willoughby.

He yanked the door open and almost groaned with relief at the rush of hot air that hit him. Best decision he’d made all morning to leave the truck running and the heater on full blast. He’d let himself feel mildly guilty for wasting the fuel later, when he was home and tucked away in his warm bed, reading a book. Not out here freezing his ass off.

Quickly, he climbed up into the cab, shut the door behind him, and tugged off his gloves. Despite the gloves, his fingers were numb, and he shoved his hands in front of the vents until the feeling had returned. Then he took a minute to check his phone.

Which he instantly wished he’d done before his unnecessarily long conversation with Brendan.

He hit a few buttons on the screen and then lifted the phone to his ear. It rang only once before his dad picked up, the familiar gruff voice greeting him—or actually skipping the greeting altogether.

“Cass, finally. You gonna be home soon?”

Guilt hit him hard, and he reached up to rub his eyes. “Yeah, sorry, Dad. I thought you weren’t working today, and it’s a still mess out here, with everyone getting stuck, but I—”

“Goddamn snow. People can’t just stay home, can they?” There was a laugh on the other end, but Cass heard no humor in it. “No, you’re fine, kiddo. Take your time. And I’m not working today. Your mom’s just worried sick about you. You know how she gets when it snows.”

Cass closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the headrest. He did know how she was, and he cursed to himself again for not being more considerate. He should have called sooner, and now he had an additional obligation to run to Walgreens for the neighbor. And everything took at least twice as long because of the road conditions. He wanted to smack himself. Instead, he just took a deep breath.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m sorry, Dad. Um, I’ve still got one more errand to run for Mr. Pugliano, but I shouldn’t be much longer,” he said, hoping to hell he was right. “Tell Mom I’m—ah, actually, do you want me to talk to her for a few minutes? Would that help?”

“Hmm. Yeah, let’s do that. One sec . . .” There was some muffled rustling and then his dad’s voice speaking gently to his mom with a tenderness he seemed to have reserved only for her.

Cass pursed his lips and felt tears pricking at the corners of his eyes, though he quickly blinked them away.

“Caspian?”

“Hi, ma. Sorry I’m still out, but you know old Mrs. Willoughby . . .”

For the next several minutes, he sat in his dad’s truck on the side of the road, letting his hands warm all the way back up as he told his mom stories from that morning, leaving out any parts that might have gotten her more worried. Like when someone had lost control of their vehicle and careened right through an intersection, almost smashing into him as he’d been hooking up Jim Hailstone’s Toyota to Brendan’s truck. And when they’d had to call an ambulance for Cindy Parker, who’d slipped on the ice getting out of her car at the grocery store.

Those were stories his mom didn’t need to hear about.

When he was finished, she seemed much more at ease, and she told him how much she loved him and how proud she was that he was helping out his community. And there was a smile to her voice now. A tired smile, but a smile nonetheless. He latched onto that, wishing he could be there with her to see it right then. But he still needed to run that extra errand, and he reminded her of that before speaking briefly with his dad again and then hanging up.

For a moment, he just sat there, his hands resting on the steering wheel and his eyes closed lightly, and he tried not to let the heaviness of everything overwhelm him. He tried to look on the bright side, focus on the positive, let that uplifting bit at the end of their conversation actually uplift him. But it was just like the whole last couple of weeks, when he’d been struggling so much to keep himself feeling upbeat.

Hanging on by a thread.

He hated that image because it was too easy to picture something—anything—coming along and severing that thread without any effort at all. And that would leave him tumbling, falling, drowning. Which he absolutely couldn’t let happen. His parents needed him too much.

With a final sigh, he reached up and shifted the old pickup into drive, then carefully flipped a U-turn and headed west toward Walgreens.

Thankfully, the small drugstore was nearly empty; only one employee was there manning the cash register, and the pharmacist in the back had no other customers and was able to help Cass right away. Cass did have to make a quick phone call to Mr. Pugliano to get his order number and birth date—which included much snarling and humbugging and then a rather abrupt hang up on Mr. Pugliano’s part. But not more than five minutes later, Cass was walking back out the door with the prescription in his hand, relieved that he’d be home sooner than he’d expected.

Even though he was confident his mom knew he was safe, he still didn’t want to leave her worrying any longer than necessary.

He climbed back into the truck and set the prescription on the passenger seat, and just as he was sticking the keys in the ignition, his cell phone vibrated in his pocket. With a groan, he fished it out, surprised to see Brendan’s name pop up on the screen. Frowning, he swiped to answer and brought the phone to his ear.

“Hey, what’s up?” Cass asked, reaching out and turning the key. The old pickup roared to life.

“Hey, man, sorry. Are you still out?”

Cass suppressed another groan. “Yeah, just finished up at Walgreens and was about to head home.”