Page 117 of Fall Into Me

Yet broaching the subject—asking them for time and money—gave Cass a stomachache.

Before his mom could respond to his less-than-forthcoming answer, Cass cleared his throat and stood. “I’m going to get these dishes done, and then we should get going, yeah? Don’t want to be late.”

“Caspian,” his mother said, her voice soft and filled with understanding.

He wasn’t ready to talk about it, though. Not yet. And so he turned to her and knelt down next to her and made himself smile, pushing aside all the uncertainties and all his lingering guilt and unease. He took her hand gently.

“Are you finished, ma? Did you want more?” He pushed himself back to his feet and reached out for her bowl, but she stopped him, her good hand settling on top of his. He shook his head. “Ma . . .”

She spoke anyway.

“If you wanted to go, why didn’t you?” Her hand tightened around his, and she tilted her head. “I hope it wasn’t because of me.”

Dammit. He swallowed hard and closed his eyes. He couldn’t lie to her, but he couldn’t really tell her the truth, either.

“It’s just kinda complicated,” he said finally, and he gave her another uneasy smile, which he knew she could see right through. “It’s okay, though. He’s not going to be alone, and he and I talked about it, and we know we’ll figure things out.” That was mostly true, at least. He took a short breath and then said, “Let me do these dishes, and then we can go, okay?”

His mom smiled and nodded, though he saw the sadness in her eyes, and all of his guilt came pouring back, knowing he’d put that sadness there. He leaned over and kissed her cheek.

“I love you, ma.”

“I love you, too, Caspian.”

Ignoring all of his conflicting emotions and the part of his brain screaming at him that he needed to be more honest with her, Cass straightened up, gathered the dishes from the table, and headed over to the sink to load the dishwasher so they could get going.

The day ticked by at a snail’s pace, every moment stretched out to the fullest.

His mom’s morning occupational therapy appointment went as well as could be expected, and afterward, he took her out to finish the last bit of shopping they needed to do for the weekend. Like they had last year, they were heading to Stockton on Christmas Day at his mom’s insistence. While that meant Cass was off the hook for cooking Christmas dinner, he still had to help with gift wrapping and shopping for his aunts and uncles and all the rest of their extended family.

The weather turned, too, flipping from sunny and about sixty-five to cloudy and cold, with the threat of rain or even sleet later on in the evening. And with the change in weather, his mom’s symptoms started acting up. She became tired, complained of pain in her hands, and started slurring her words. Cass tried not to worry, but he ended up calling his dad anyway, who reassured him and said he’d be home from work as soon as he could.

When they’d finished wrapping gifts, Cass made his mom a quick dinner—happy to see she still had an appetite. Then he helped her shower and get ready for bed.

By eight, his dad still wasn’t home, but his mom was fast asleep, her breathing regular and deep. Cass stayed with her for a bit longer to make sure she was comfortable, and then he headed back out to switch off the lights in the kitchen.

At the end of the hallway, he paused, his gaze dropping to the gifts sitting under the brightly lit Christmas tree. His hand slipped into his pocket and gripped his phone.

Ash (2:33 p.m.): You got your gift, right? It should have been delivered today

He stared at a small box sitting off to one side, the dark-green paper shimmering in the glowing lights from the tree.

Ash (2:33 p.m.): It’s not much, but I hope you like it <3

He’d been so busy, he hadn’t been able to text back more than just a quick Got it! Ash hadn’t texted much during the day, either, Cass assumed because he was spending time with the Wallers, and his heart suddenly ached with the need to talk to him, especially after the aborted conversation with his mom earlier in the day.

He hurried through closing up the house, shutting off all the lights except the porch light for his dad, and then he pulled his phone out again as he closed the door behind him in his bedroom.

A text from his dad popped up on the screen just as Cass sat on the bed.

Dad (8:07 p.m.): Leaving work now. Be home shortly. Sorry to be so late

Cass tapped out a quick response, letting his dad know his mom was asleep and how the rest of the evening had gone. His dad replied almost immediately with a thumbs-up emoji, and Cass tabbed back to his chain of messages with Ash.

The last one from a couple of hours ago had just been a smiley face, followed by a photo of Shaina holding Bri outside in a courtyard somewhere with a bunch of Christmas lights and decorations. The caption read Happy baby!

Cass stopped halfway between the door and his bed, his heart hammering in his chest, though he wasn’t even sure why.

Cass (8:09 p.m.): Hey