Chapter 48
Chapter Forty-Eight
Cassius
Chrissy and Cammy are still sleeping when I wake up, so I get started on breakfast.
Well, it’s lunch, I guess. I laugh to myself. Though, it’s still technically breakfast since we are breaking our fast, even if it is two in the afternoon. Doesn’t matter what it’s called—I’m starving and I want food.
I add water to the container of pancake mix and shake it. It costs so much more for this mixable container than the regular box, but the convenience is unbeatable.
While the pan is heating up, I scramble eggs and pull out the frozen sausage links. I dump them into a pan with a bit of water and cover them, leaving it on low so they will defrost. I’ll turn it up after to get a good color on them. I love it when they’re almost burned.
I make a couple pancakes before putting the eggs in yet another pan and let them cook on a medium heat while I finish the pancakes.
Chrissy loves chocolate chips, so I add a ton in the last two and put them on a separate plate for her.
With those done, I focus my attention on the eggs, which are almost done.
I stab the sausage and I can tell they’re no longer frozen, so I put the heat up high.
I make us each a plate, piling on the food.
I’m not sure they will eat all of this, but I’ll eat whatever they don’t.
I feel like there’s a hole in my stomach with how badly it’s hurting from hunger.
Which is crazy because I ate five hot dogs before bed.
I eat before I wake up the girls. Their food won’t be as hot, but they’ll appreciate the extra sleep.
Chrissy groans, taking a deep breath. “I smell sausage.”
I laugh. “Yeah, I made you breakfast so get up, you lazy bunch of dweebs.”
Chrissy gets up quickly, shuffling into the dining room but Cammy lingers.
“Come on, lazy!” I call.
She groans, shaking her head. “Five more minutes.”
I let her be and go sit with Chrissy while she devours her food.
It’s been a while since she’s had a bad seizure, but I do remember her being starving afterwards.
Tired and hungry. Her body’s way of recovering, of trying to find the fuel it needs to heal even though it’s not healing from a typical wound or illness.
I can imagine how a seizure would wipe someone out, though.
Actually, I can’t imagine it at all. I have no idea what it’s like, but I’ve seen it enough to know it takes a toll.
As Chrissy eats, I search around for my phone and find it on the kitchen counter by the sink.
I don’t have a text from Harmon, which is surprising but also not.
He told me to text him when I woke up. He probably didn’t want to wake me, which is thoughtful.
He’s always thinking of me and my sisters, always worrying about us and doing whatever he can to make our lives easier.
“How are you feeling?”
“Ughh,” she complains. “Are you going to be up my butt now?”
I scoff, putting my phone down.
“Chrissy, I understand that you hate this disorder. I know you don’t like talking about it and I get how much it affects you, trust me I do.
I hate that it’s what people think of when they first think of you because it’s such a big thing.
It’s unfair. It sucks. I hate that for you so fucking much, okay?
I do. I promise you that I do. But you also need to understand that I am your brother.
I love you. And yesterday was by far the scariest day of my life.
So put your feelings aside for just a second and please let me make sure my sister is okay. ”
She’s staring at me like she saw a ghost. She sighs heavily. “Okay, I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be that way, it’s just…”
“People let it define you, and it shouldn’t. It’s bullshit.”
She nods, pushing around a piece of pancake on her plate.
“If you aren’t going to eat that, I will.”
She shoves the plate at me. “I’m fine, by the way. Tired still, but the headache is gone.”
“Good. Because we’re going to sit in front of the TV for the rest of the day and watch Supernatural.”
“Hell yes,” she says excitedly. “But for now… I’m going back to bed.”
It’s early evening, the three of us slowly turning into couch potatoes. We have snacks, drinks, and warm blankets. The TV is on, and we’re deep into season four of Supernatural. I check my phone for the tenth time in the last five minutes. Harmon still hasn’t texted.
He told me last night that he had a busy day today and that’s why he had to go in—but to not text me back?
It’s been hours and that’s not like him.
Maybe he lost his phone? He must have some way of finding it, like a tracker app.
Or maybe the phone broke? No, he would send Oliver to get one.
Or take whichever one they have in the supply closet. He wouldn’t just… ignore me.
He’s obviously busy. He is the CEO of a large and successful company.
Calm down, Cassius. He’s just working.
I put my phone down and focus on the episode. When it’s done and I still don’t have a text back from him, I send another.
Me
Hey, just making sure you’re okay?
I stare at it, hoping the delivered will turn to read. It doesn’t. The next episode starts so I put my phone down again.
“I’m sure he’s busy with work,” Cammy says quietly.
“I know.”
Work takes up a lot of his time. I can’t be a priority all the time. Hardly ever, honestly. He has a lot going on. That’s just how it is.
The more time that goes by, the less I can focus on the TV. My brain is constantly going, wondering if he got into an accident. Maybe he went home and fell asleep. He hardly slept at all last night. But he couldn’t send not even one text? It’s so unlike him.
“I’m going to, uh, use the bathroom,” I say as I get up.
They both have their eyes glued to the TV, so I sneak past with my phone in hand. When I’m in the bathroom with the door closed, I call Harmon and it goes right to voicemail.
“What the hell?” I whisper to myself.
I try again. But again, it goes to voicemail. I send another text.
Me
I’m really worried. Can you please let me know if you’re okay?
I call again right after it sends.
“Hi, you’ve reached Har—”
My hands are shaking, and I look up at my reflection in the mirror.
“It’s okay, Cass. It’s okay. He’s fine. He’s just sleeping.
” I repeat the words a few times, trying to calm myself.
It hardly works. I splash cold water on my face and go back to the living room with the intention of focusing on the show and not the fact that Harmon is home sleeping.
The man is allowed to be tired. He hardly slept last night.
We’ll laugh about this later, when he calls me back.
I call it a night around ten. Before I get into bed, I call Harmon again, but his phone is still off. I send another text though.
Me
I guess you’re sleeping. I’m sure you’re tired. Call me when you wake up.
I don’t care what time it is. I just miss you.
I put my phone on the nightstand and roll over to go to sleep.
I toss and turn all night, nightmares plaguing me.
Harmon getting into a car wreck. Being in the hospital with a ton of machines hooked up to him.
Waking up with amnesia and having no idea who the hell I am. Nothing has ever made me feel so bad…