FOR A BRIEF MOMENT, no one moves. No one says a word.
We gape at Cass like he’s a mirage. He looks at us in a similar way, almost like he’s caught off guard. Which is confusing, because this is his house, and he definitely knew we were here.
On closer inspection, I realize it’s not surprise, but apprehension. Nerves. Kind of like how he looks before a big game—jittery and anxious and pumped with adrenaline.
“Well, finally,” it’s James who breaks the silence, drawling loudly, “look who showed up.”
Cass doesn’t react with anything more than a tight-lipped grimace I think is supposed to be a smile.
He’s staring at me. Not directly at me, but in my direction, focusing on something below my face. It only takes a quick glance to see it’s the hand cupping my shoulder—Nick’s hand. A soft touch that falls to my lower back as I stand. A source of strength and support as I clear my throat, very aware of the dozen or so eyes trained on me, not meeting any but Cass’. “Can we talk?”
He offers neither a yes nor a no; he turns on his heel and strides outside again, leaving the front door open in his wake as a wordless invitation to follow.
“Where’ve you been?” I ask the moment my feet hit the wooden porch, arms folded awkwardly around myself.
My brother leans against the railing and shrugs. “Around.”
“I was worried about you.” Cass snorts, scuffing the toe of his sneaker against the decking. My fingers twitch at my side. “I was.”
“Okay,” he mutters sarcastically, and for some reason, the single, drawn-out word pisses me off enough to snap.
I get that he’s hurt, I understand that, but he’s being a child. He’s missing class, avoiding his house, avoiding his friends. For God’s sake, he missed a game. Enough is freaking enough. “Will you cut the passive-aggressive shit and talk to me?”
“Will you stop lying?” he spits back. ‘First, you lie about Dylan, then you lie about Nick.”
I bristle. “That is not the same thing.”
“Isn’t it?” he challenges. “They’re both pretty fucking big secrets. Life-altering, I’d say.”
“They’re not the same,” I repeat through gritted teeth. There’s no comparison between a secret protected out of love and one kept out of shame and embarrassment, and fear.
“Do you not trust me or something?” The hint of a forlorn expression, the tiny break in his voice, tugs at my heartstrings and calls on the almost permanent pit of guilt in my stomach.
“Of course I do,” I huff in frustration, collapsing on the porch swing, my anger snuffed out by a sudden wave of fatigue and weariness. Fighting with Cass is—and has always been—exhausting. I think that’s the main reason our arguments were always such sporadic bouts, quick-burning and hastily resolved; we simply never had the stamina to stay mad at each other.
Or the willpower.
Shifting awkwardly, I shoot my brother a pleading stare. “Can we talk, please? Let me explain?”
For the longest second of my life, he doesn’t respond. Studies me without meeting my imploring gaze. Contemplates my request as though it’s a life-or-death decision. Eventually, he sighs. “I’m gonna need a drink for this.”
Cass returns with a six-pack of beer in his grip. Collapsing beside me, he offers me one and I take it more than eagerly, as eagerly as he cracks open his and sucks down the contents.
For the first time in a month, Cass looks me in the eye, the regret in his gaze staggering. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have mentioned Dylan.”
“Yeah, you shouldn’t have.” I tuck my knees up to my chest, resting my chin on them. “But I forgive you.”
There’s a pause—we both fill it by taking a welcome sip of beer—before Cass quietly says, “So. Thanksgiving.” It’s a timid prompt, one I’m not sure how to answer, so I simply nod. His jaw clenches as he runs his tongue over his teeth. “Was I in the house when you fucked my best friend?”
“Jesus, Cass,” I choke, grimacing at his crassness. “We didn’t… do that.” Figuring he doesn’t need to hear what we did do, I continue vaguely, “It just happened. I didn’t tell you at first because we were keeping it a casual thing. Which was completely my decision, not Nick’s,” I add when his expression turns thunderous. “I didn’t want anything serious after Dylan, and Nick went along with it.”
“I’m guessing you changed your mind.”
“More like I came to my senses.” Cass raises a questioning brow at my muttered comment, and I take a deep breath, powering through despite how disgustingly awkward this conversation is. “On New Year’s Eve, he called me out on my bullshit. He didn’t want to sneak around anymore.” I smile faintly at my hands, remembering.
I can’t sneak around and act like I’m not falling for you because it’s not fucking working.
Shifting my attention back to Cass, I try my best to stop grinning like a fool. “I know you don’t see it, Cass, but he is so fucking good to me.”
Cass drops his gaze, picking at the label on his beer bottle. “I don’t see it because you wouldn’t let me.”
“I know. That was all me as well. After things got serious, Nick wanted to tell you but I kept holding off. There was so much shit going on and I liked having something that was mine.”
The faintest of smiles curl Cass’ lips, igniting a flutter of hope in my chest. “Control freak,” he jokes weakly.
I allow myself to bathe in the smallest display of a ceasefire before persevering, “I promise, we never purposely told anyone else. They all found out by accident. I didn’t want to tell anyone else until I told you but,” I swallow, hating the repetitive excuse but it’s the truth, “it just happened.”
“After the baseball fundraiser,” Cass says suddenly, randomly, frowning. “You tried to tell me?” When I nod, he slumps forward, resting his elbows on his knees and his head in his hand. “And I basically told you I’d never be okay with it.”
A wry smile curls my lips. “I believe you said you’d kill him.”
Cass crinkles his nose and reluctantly shifts his gaze to me. “Okay, yeah, that one was my bad.”
“And Mom?” he asks. “How did she know?”
My cheeks heat. “The book Nick gave me for Christmas,” I say softly. I explain how it was his dad’s favorite, how Ana saw it and put two and two together, how she shared her suspicions with Lynn, and the whole thing unraveled like an exceptionally tangled piece of string.
When I’m done, Cass groans and throws his head back against the sofa. “So everyone really just figured it out? Fucking hell, I feel like a dumbass.”
“At least you’re pretty,” I pose a risky joke, testing the waters, crossing my fingers in my lap. Cass scowls at me, but a reluctant smile peeks through.
It takes an hour for me to divulge the whole thing. How it happened was painful to explain because the simple answer is raw sex appeal, and that’s not the most fun thing to admit to your brother. I dance around the more salacious details and hope he gets—or that he doesn’t get—the gist.
Why it continued, which I think garnered me sympathy points; how can you be mad at your poor sister, desperate for a gentle touch rather than a painful grip?
Through all my story-telling, one theme remains; the blame is entirely on me. Not on our friends, not on Nick, purely on me. I think I can live with him being mad at me, as long as it’s me that his anger is aimed at. As long as nothing else is ruined too.
We’re exhausted by the time I’m done. Rubbing his tired, overwhelmed-looking eyes, Cass exhales heavily. “I’m not mad because you’re with him.” He pauses, cocking his head as he contemplates his words, ‘Well, I was at first, a little. But it was mostly the lying.”
“I know, and I’m so, so sorry.” Another constant theme of the last hour; apologizing. Profusely. Desperately. A tad pathetically but my pride can take the bashing.
“I was embarrassed,” Cass admits. “You guys were literally under my nose and I didn’t see it.” He pauses again, seeming to shrink in on himself as he drops his gaze to his rapidly bouncing knees. “And I was jealous,” comes his quiet, frown-inducing confession. Suddenly, he looks so much younger, so much like the brother from my childhood who got pouty when he caught James and me playing without him, or when Lynn gave me more attention than she gave him. “I just got you back. I wasn’t prepared to have to share you so quickly.”
When he drags his eyes to meet mine, the intense vulnerability in them makes my chest ache. “If my sister and my best friend are in love and spending all their time with each other, then where do I fit in?”
I strongly suspect the sound of my heart breaking in two is unmistakably audible.
‘Cass,’ I release the breath burning my lungs in a soft sigh and shift closer. “Nothing is ever going to change the fact that we’re family. I can love him and still love you, it’s not a one or the other kind of thing.”
“I know that,” he grumbles unconvincingly. Making a noise of resignation, he slings an arm around me and tugs me into his side. I almost weep at the contact, eyes burning as I drop my head to his shoulder.
This is what I was afraid of losing. Comfort. Friendship. Family.
“I didn’t tell you,” I sniff with the effort of stifling tears, “because I was so terrified of losing you.”
Grip tightening, he rests his cheek atop my head. “Never gonna happen, Tiny.”
We’re okay.
I think we’re okay.
We’re laughing and joking and catching up on everything we missed in each other’s lives; he’s been bouncing around from one teammate’s place to another and spending all his time at the batting cages and bars a town over so he wouldn’t run into anyone.
We’re teetering on a rocky edge, toeing a dangerous line.
A line that I might break with a single request.
Because God knows I love pushing my luck.
“I hate to ruin the moment,” I start tentatively, earning a pained look from Cass as he cracks open another beer. “You need to apologize to Nick.’ Cass pauses mid-drink, narrowing his eyes at me but I soldier on. “The shit you said to him wasn’t okay. He doesn’t deserve you making out like he’s using me or taking advantage of me or something. Honestly, if anything it was the other way around.”
Cass fakes a gag. “I did not need to know that.”
Ignoring his horror, I fix him with a determined stare. “Please.”
He huffs, suddenly fascinated by his beer.
“Cassie,” I whine, turning to my trusty trio of pouting, puppy-dog eyes, and childhood nicknames. Three things that always had him relenting with a sigh, and it appears they still work like a charm.
“I will. Just gimme some time.”
Now, doesn’t that sound familiar?
Like sister, like brother.
“I saw Dylan on campus.”
“Oh yeah?” For once, the mention of my ex’s name doesn’t cause me to stiffen and shrink. Instead, I smile, because something about Cass’ expression tells me something very specific about Dylan’s features caught his eye. Namely, the bruises covering every square inch of his face.
I saw him on campus for a fleeting second and God, in the weirdest turn of events, it brightened my day.
Apparently, if his shit-eating grin is anything to go by, it had the same effect on Cass. “Guessing that was Nick’s handiwork?”
“Technically, it was Jackson’s. A little bit of Ben’s, too. I don’t think you ever wanna get close enough to see the bruises Nick left.”
Cass grunts a laugh, the delight on his face morphing with a pouty grimace. “Why do I always miss the good shit?”
“You were too busy throwing a tantrum,” I mutter under my breath, but he hears me. He shoots me a glare, I smile innocently back. “Too soon?” An annoyed grunt rumbles in his chest but he dips his head to hide a smile, the sight sending a flood of relief through me.
I notice Cass’ throat bob as he swallows, scratching the back of his head nervously. “I think it’s my turn to ruin the moment.”
The same as he did earlier, I groan in protest, slumping forward so my elbows hit my knees, beer bottle dangling from my fingertips.
“Your dad mentioned you saw Diane.”
The mere mention of her name has my lips curling up in a sneer, my blood boiling, the most intense feelings of hatred I’ve ever experienced flushing my skin.
“I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you,” Cass apologizes sincerely. “If you need to talk about it…”
“I don’t,” I interrupt. I really, really don’t. I’m done, I’m so freaking done with that woman, and if I never see her again, it’ll be too soon. I have too many absences to mourn to spend another second thinking about her.
Cass gets it, like I suspected he would. Slumping beside me, he clinks his beer bottle against mine, and we sip in unison.
For the first time in weeks, I feel settled. Unbothered. Unburdened. At ease with myself and my life.
God only knows how long that’ll last.
