WHEN I WAS six years old, my mother left.
The day she walked out of my life is one of the only memories I have of her. I remember watching her pack up the dresses I sneakily tried on, the makeup I begged her to teach me to use, the heels I got in trouble for prancing around in. I remember following her into the driveway as she silently packed up the car. I remember asking where she was going only to be ignored. And I remember sitting there and watching as she got in her car and drove off without so much as a goodbye.
What I don’t remember is how long I sat there before Cass Morgan appeared at my side.
I just know that at some point, I jumped as an arm brushed mine, a skinny body plopped on the pavement beside me, a curious voice asked, “What’re you doing?”
“Waiting for my mom,” I’d replied.
“Where’d she go?” he’d asked.
“I don’t know.”
“Where’s your dad?”
“Work.”
It continued that way for a while. Him asking questions, me replying with nondescript, monosyllabic answers. I was never a very social kid, straddling the border between quiet and shy, but God knows that didn’t deter Cass. He wrenched every drop of information out of me he could. And when he ran out of questions, when night fell and my driveway grew dark and I started shivering, he took me by the hand, yanked me to my feet, and dragged me inside his house where his mother called my dad.
I also don’t remember how long I sat quietly in the Morgans’ kitchen waiting for the only parent I had set to return to the house that was no longer a home.
The next day, when I naively set up shop on the driveway again, it took all of ten minutes for Cass to join me. And the next day and the next day and the next day. For two weeks, he sat with me, chattering away, only leaving my side to get food he forced me to eat until finally, I accepted that my mother wasn’t coming home. When I burst into tears, it was Cass who consoled me, dragged me into his house and force-fed me ice cream, and taught me how to play his video games until I wasn’t as sad anymore.
Cass Morgan and his family were my family for ten years until my dad and I moved.
It’s been three years since I’ve had any contact with him and now, all of a sudden, there he stands, my childhood best friend, the boy I considered a brother, open-mouthed in the doorway of the random house that happened to host the party I was forced to attend.
I barely get the chance to blink before I’m airborne, lifted off the couch and into Cass’ arms, my legs dangling in the air as I’m hugged within an inch of my life. “Holy fucking shit, Amelia.”
With every bit of force he’s exerting into hugging me, I’m returning the favor tenfold. My arms wind tightly around his neck, clinging to him like he might disappear, as I bury my face in the crook, tears threatening to spill over as I blubber his name. “Cass, what the fuck?”
Way too soon for my liking, my feet hit the floor again as I’m gently set down. My head is removed from where it’s attempting to burrow, soft skin grazing mine as Cass leans down to lightly press our foreheads together. “What the hell are you doing here?” he asks softly, expression laced with so much affection, it makes me want to cry.
Pulling away, I gesture at the carnage littering the room. “Rumor has it this place throws a kickass party.”
“Wait a minute, you’re the Amelia who was running around naked?”
“I wasn’t naked.” I cringe, smacking his arm. “I had underwear on.”
“Oh, well, that’s okay then,” he quips sarcastically.
“Sorry to interrupt-” We tear our gazes off each other, only now remembering the five other people in the room staring at us with looks of utter confusion. Brow crumpled in question, Ben gestures between the two of us. “But what the fuck is going on here?”
Tugging me close, Cass wraps his arms around my shoulders, resting his chin atop my head and reminding me of how much taller than me he is. I’ve always hated that; as a young girl, it was very inconvenient. He won every race and game and tree-climbing competition we ever had with those damn long limbs. “Well-”
“Wait,” Ben interrupts before we can give him the explanation he asked for, and I watch as some sort of realization seems to dawn on him. “She’s Tiny?”
It’s almost comical how two little words have the seated men in the room shooting upright so rapidly, the three of them exchanging wide-eyed looks I can’t decipher.
“Well,” Ben muses, leaning back in his seat, hands laced behind his head, the smile on his face inexplicably mischievous. “Isn’t this an interesting turn of events?” His gaze flickers to Nick. “Amelia is Tiny.”
If I wasn’t so busy grimacing at the childhood nickname, I might’ve noticed the tense set to Nick’s jaw, might’ve questioned how intensely he glares at Ben for his comment, might’ve wondered why Ben is teasing him in the first place. Instead, I’m caught up on hearing that damn nickname for the first time in years.
To a seven-year-old Cass and his older brother, it was the pinnacle of creative humor. To a six-year-old Amelia, it was the pinnacle of annoyance. Yet for some reason, I can’t fight the nostalgic smile that fights my grimace for first place. It’s been a long time since I’ve heard it, and it’s oddly comforting. Even if it does inspire the mocking grins my friend’s are wearing.
“Tiny?” My nosy blonde friends repeat, face the picture of mischief. “How cute.”
“And fitting,” Kate adds, bottom lip jutting out in a teasing pout.
“And definitely deserving of an explanation,” Luna finishes. Fair brows raise expectantly, impatiently, because if there’s anything she hates more than relationships, it’s being left out of the loop.
“This-” I jerk an elbow back into Cass’ ribs. “-is Cass. We grew up next door to each other.” A gross under-exaggeration of the extent of our relationship but the watered-down version is all they need.
The girls adopt that same ‘dawn of realization’ expression the guys have. “This is Cassie?”
Luna barks out a laugh. “Cassie is a man?”
Fingers tug on my hair, a scoff brushing the top of my head. “Cass is definitely a man.” Lowering his mouth to my ear, he mutters, “And Cassie is a little offended your best friends have no idea who I am.”
Cass’ comment is teasing, and when I glance upwards with an apologetic grimace, I’m only met with sympathy and understanding. Yet still, my gut twists with guilt.
My life before I moved to California isn’t something I talk about. Hell, it’s not even something I think about. So much happened, so much shit and chaos, and everything that led to the move was… too much. So much that I fled my home town, and abandoned my family, without so much as a goodbye, hence the radio silence over the years. I never told my friends much about Cass; I vaguely alluded to a neighbor I was close to, a gross under-exaggeration of the depth of our relationship, because that was all I could handle.
Cass, the person who knows me best in the world, or at least did at one point, knows my reasoning without me having to voice it. I know he knows it. Yet still, I find myself whispering an apology.
An arm hooks around my neck and squeezes. “Shut up. I’m just glad you’re here.” With one last squeeze and a kiss dropped to my temple, Cass releases me. “I can’t believe you’re here.”
I’m not quite ready to let him go yet—I’m still not entirely sure he’s really here—so I wrap my arms around his middle, hugging him tightly, relishing in the knowledge that Cass’ uncanny ability to always be there when I need it seems not to have waned over the years. “Took the words right out my mouth.”
“So you go here? To Sun Valley?”
I hum a yes, gratefully accepting my second cup of coffee of the day as Cass hands it to me. “Just started sophomore year.” A year below Cass’ status as a junior.
“What are the fucking odds?” Cass whistles with a shake of his head, sipping at his own coffee as he leans against the counter. Much to the chagrin of our audience, we relocated our reunion to the kitchen; it’s hard to properly catch up with your long-lost kind of brother when there are five nosy pairs of ears eagerly listening in. There’s only an archway separating us from the others but at least we can pretend we have privacy, with the others being out of sight and all. “How the hell have we gone a whole year living in the same town without bumping into each other?”
That, I have no answer for. It’s wild to think about. And God, I can’t wrap my head around the fact we both ended up here. It’s not like this place is huge or particularly renowned, the university or the town. I don’t buy into the whole fate thing, not really, but shit. Might make a believer of me yet. “I guess we don’t run in the same circles.”
“Baseball players aren’t your thing anymore?”
A flashing memory of a boy, a teenager clad in a baseball uniform waving at me from a field, assaults me, and my smile abruptly drops. Cass’ soon follows. “Fuck, Amelia, I’m sorry. That was a shitty joke.”
“It’s okay.” I force my smile back into place. “You still play?”
Cass flashes a hesitant yet supremely cocky grin. “You think I would waste God-given talent?”
“Still humble too, I see.” Humble but honest. For a decade, I attended every baseball game Cass ever played in and still, I never failed to be amazed at how fucking good he was at the sport. How good he is, I guess. I sat through countless hours of games, I even went to some of his practices. Partly because yeah, once upon a time, baseball players were my thing. Hot boys in very tight pants? Can’t complain. But mostly, I endured them because I loved watching him play. I loved how good he was, is. I loved that he was mine to be proud of.
God, I didn’t realize how much I missed that until now. “I’m gonna have to come see you play.”
One of those long legs of his reaches out to tap me on the shin. “You better.”
There’s a pause while he sips his coffee, assessing me over the lip of his mug.
I fidget under the scrutiny. “What?”
“You look good, Mils.”
“Now, imagine how good I look when I’ve showered.”
Cass’ laugh echoes off the walls. “I do have a question though.”
“Yeah?”
“I don’t know if I want the answer.”
Intriguing. “Go on.”
“Why the fuck are you wearing Nick’s clothes?”
For some reason, I freeze like a guilty party caught in the act. “How do you know they’re Nick’s?”
Cass reaches out to flick the logo stitched on my borrowed hoodie. “That’s the gym he works at.”
Huh. weird. The same one I go to—once in a blue moon. “Nothing happened if that’s what you’re asking.”
“Thank God.” Cass huffs a breath of relief. “I love the guy, I do, but he is the last guy you want your little sister hooking up with.”
Why? I want to ask. “There was no hooking up,” is what I clarify instead.
“And there never will be.”
“Okay, Dad.” I roll my eyes. “How do you guys know each other, anyway?”
An awkward pause follows my question. “He, uh, moved in next door. After you left, his family bought the place.”
“Oh.” God, that’s weird. Imagining him living in my house. His house, evidently, but my house, once upon a time.
“He turned your studio into a gym.”
A lump settles in my throat. “Really?”
“Uh-huh.” Cass hesitates again. “Do you still dance?”
That lump attempts to choke me, my knee panging with phantom pains as his simple question sinks into my bones. “Nope.”
“Liar,” a voice sings a second before Ben breezes into the kitchen. “I saw you shaking your ass last night.”
I’m grateful for the distraction but I act annoyed, elbowing him indignantly as he props himself against the counter beside me.
Cass watches us with faint amusement laced with a touch of confusion, a little bit of awe and disbelief thrown in there for good measure, as if he can’t fathom the sight. “Remind me again how you guys know each other?”
Lips curling upwards, Ben sneaks an arm around my shoulders and gives me a playful shake. “Tiny here is our favorite waitress.”
“We met at Greenies,” I add. Well, technically, we officially met last night but since I can’t entirely remember that encounter, I’m using Greenies as a jumping off point for our relationship.
“Amelia works there.” I don’t know why Ben says such a simple explanation in such a loaded way, and I’m even more clueless as to why Cass’ expression darkens slightly.
“She does?”
“Uh-huh. Isn’t that right, Nicky?” Ben addresses the man as he strolls into the room with his empty mug in hand, an instant look of regret twisting his handsome features. “We know Amelia from Greenies, don’t we?”
I’m unable to help feeling like I’m missing something as Nick’s shifty gaze darts to Cass, the two of them engaging in some kind of silent, brooding conversation as the former shrugs a vague response. “Yup.”
“How come I’ve never seen you there?” I butt in, eager to ease some of the odd tension thickening the air. I am genuinely interested in the answer; The Green Dragon is kind of an institution around here. It’s a regular haunt for baseball players, hence Ben and Jackson’s frequent visits. So, it doesn’t quite make sense that I’ve never bumped into Cass there.
That is, until Ben explains with an all-too-pleased grin, “Cass isn’t allowed in Greenies.”
“Seriously?” I cock my head at Cass. “Why?”
He pauses his glaring long enough to adopt a sheepish expression. “I got banned freshman year.”
“For doing what?”
It doesn’t matter that Cass suddenly becomes tight-lipped; Ben is more than eager to share his friend’s exploits. “Because your boss frowns upon public nudity.”
“Especially when combined with dancing on bars.”
Nick’s teasing addition draws Cass’ attention back to him, and the tense set of my brother’s jaw returns, hostile energy emanating from him in waves. And just like that, my attempt at changing the subject, at lightening the mood, fails. “You invited her here last night?”
Nick shakes his head at the same time I clarify, “I came with my boyfriend.”
“You have a boyfriend?”
“Ex-boyfriend,” Nick and I correct simultaneously. I add, “We broke up last night.”
“Aw, shit,” Cass frowns. “Do I need to kick some ass?”
I shake my head, positive I’m the only one who hears Nick mumble a quiet, ‘yes.’
A cooing ‘aw’ sound falling from his lips, Cass closes the short distance between us, patting the top of my head. “C’mon. Let’s go for breakfast. I’ll buy you pancakes.”
“Pity pancakes?”
“With extra maple syrup.”
“And coffee?”
“Yes.” He pinches my chin between his thumb and forefinger, shaking my head gently. “You can have some coffee with your sugar.”
“Ha.” I poke his stomach. “As appealing as that sounds,” I pause, gesturing to my outfit. “I don’t think I’m fit for being in public right now.”
“Look fine to me.”
The words are barely out of Nick’s mouth before he goes flying sideways. “Nope,” Cass shakes his head rapidly from side to side. “Absolutely not.”
“What?” Nick protests, staring at Cass with a look of wide-eyed, completely fake innocence, stumbling when he gets shoved again, his large body smacking into the wall. “I didn’t do anything!”
“You-” Cass jabs an accusing finger in his roommate’s direction. “-do not flirt with her.”
“I wasn’t flirting.” Golden eyes roll, mischief curling the corner of his mouth upwards. “You wanna see flirting, Cassie, I’ll show you flirting.”
“I’d rather die, Nicolas,” Cass deadpans, brandishing a middle finger at his chuckling friend. “I’d literally rather die.”
