29 Cassius #2
I pick up the spoon again because it’s easier than arguing, and because I’m suddenly aware I haven’t eaten much today.
Mom moves around the kitchen while I eat, putting away dishes, wiping a counter that’s already clean, giving me enough room to breathe.
When I finish, she takes the bowl and puts leftovers into containers without asking if I want them.
“I can feed myself,” I mutter.
“Can you?”
I don’t answer because the evidence is against me. She stacks two containers in a bag and sets them by my keys.
“You love her?” she asks.
I look up at her.
She raises an eyebrow. “I’m your mother. I’m allowed to ask obvious questions.”
“Yes,” I admit. “I love her.”
“Then stop acting like you have to be perfect to deserve it.”
I let out a slow breath as she comes around the table and wraps her arms around me, pulling my head against her chest like I’m still small enough to fit there. I let her. I don’t even pretend not to need it.
“Talk to her,” she says, fingers moving once through my hair.
“I’m trying to figure out how.”
“You’ll figure it out faster if you stop running away.”
I huff against her shirt. “You and Dr. Malik should hang out.”
“That your therapist?”
“Yeah. He told me not to be full of shit.”
Mom pulls back, her mouth curving. “Smart man.”
“Don’t start.”
“I like him already.”
She hugs me once more at the door before letting me leave with the food, a lecture, and the kind of ache in my chest that feels worse but oddly healing.
I drive back to campus with the radio off.
The quiet is easier than music. Music makes me think of Zae, and I’m already doing enough of that to qualify as a medical condition.
Every stoplight gives me too much time to see her face again.
Her reaching for me. Her standing there in my hoodie.
Her saying she didn’t know how to be okay without me.
That one still messes me up.
But now there’s Mom’s voice too.
Don’t turn her love into ignorance just because you’re scared.
I hate when people say things I can’t argue with.
By the time I make it back to campus, the sun is dropping behind the older dorms and the parking lot is almost full. I find a space near the back and sit with the engine off, Mom’s food sitting warm on the passenger seat.
Zae has sat there more times than I can count. Feet tucked up even though I tell her not to. Drink in the cupholder that used to be mine until she stole it. Phone brightness too high. Mouth running through whatever thought crossed her mind first.
The car feels wrong without her.
I grab the food and get out before I can start staring at the passenger seat like it’s going to do something useful. I’m halfway across the lot when someone says my name.
“Cass?”
I stop, turning to look where my name came from.
Stacey stands near the sidewalk, coffee in one hand, keys in the other.
Her hair is pulled back, and she’s wearing one of those matching sets she always liked, the kind that made her look like she had her life together even when she was just going to class.
I haven’t talked to her since we ended things, besides a few texts about getting her stuff back.
“Hey,” I say.
Her eyes move to the containers in my hand. “Your mom?”
“Yeah.”
“She still feeds you like you’re helpless?”
“Pretty much.”
A small smile touches her mouth, then fades. The silence between us isn’t as ugly as I expected. It’s awkward, but not bad. That almost makes it worse.
She looks down at her coffee. “I heard about you and Zae.”
My chest tightens. “Yeah?”
“People talk.”
“Yeah.”
She studies my face. “I’m sorry.”
I should say it’s fine, or it’s complicated, or something that makes it less personal. But I don’t, and Stacey notices right away.
Her mouth curves a little, but there’s no bite in it. “So it was always her.”
I look away. “Stacey.”
“It’s okay.” She shifts her keys in her hand. “Well, no. It sucked. But it’s not like I didn’t know.”
I look back at her.
“Come on, Cass,” she says. “You had a picture of her on your desk. You answered her texts even when you ignored mine. You looked different when she walked into a room and then acted like no one could see your face.”
I don’t know how to defend that, so I don’t try.
“I’m sorry.”
She nods once, and the fact that she doesn’t immediately make it easier on me tells me she heard it.
“I used you,” I add. “I didn’t mean to at first, but I did. I stayed because it was easier than admitting what I wanted, and that wasn’t fair to you.”
Her eyes soften a little. “I know.”
That’s worse than her being mad.
I rub the back of my neck. “You don’t have to be nice about it.”
“I’m not being nice.” She glances toward the dorms, then back at me. “I used you too.”
My brows pull together.
“I liked the idea of you,” she admits plainly. “The quiet guy. The broody skater. The one who didn’t care what anyone thought. I thought if I could get you to show up the way I wanted, it meant I was important enough to change you.”
I stand there with Mom’s food in my hand and no idea what to say.
“I wanted you more normal,” Stacey admits. “More couple posts, and brunch, and plans that didn’t involve you disappearing to help Zae every time she needed you.”
“She didn’t—”
“I know.” She lifts her hand a little, stopping me before I can even start. “I know she didn’t do anything wrong. I wanted to blame her for a while because that was easier, but she wasn’t the one lying to me.”
Well that just landed where it should. Ouch.
I nod once. “I should have ended it sooner.”
“Yeah. You should have.” She takes a drink from her coffee, then makes a face like it’s gone cold. “But I should have listened sooner too. You were never really with me the way I wanted you to be.”
“I’m sorry,” I say again, because it’s all I’ve got.
“I know.”
She looks past me toward the lot, then back again. “For what it’s worth, I hope you figure it out with her.”
My throat tightens. “I don’t know if she’ll let me.”
Stacey raises an eyebrow. “Zae?”
I don’t answer.
She shakes her head. “She’ll make you suffer first. But I doubt she’s done with you.”
A rough breath leaves me, not quite a laugh but close enough.
“No. Probably not.” I think about her seven-day promise. How there’s only two more days.
She can’t be done with me if she’s coming to knock on my door, right?
“Good,” she says, noting my expression as it throws me more than I expect. Stacey shrugs when she sees my face. “I don’t hate her. I wanted to. I tried. It didn’t stick.”
My mouth almost curves. “Yeah. She’s hard to hate.”
“She’s annoying enough that it should be easier. But I can tell she’s good for you in the way that probably makes your life harder.”
I look down at the bag in my hand. “Seems to be a theme.”
“And you’re good for her,” she adds, her voice turning more serious. “When you’re not being stupid.”
Everyone really does keep using that word.
“I’m working on that,” I say.
“Good.”
She steps back, keys jingling in her hand. “Take care of yourself, Cass.”
“You too.”
She starts to walk away toward her car. I watch her go, not because I want her back, but because I can finally see the whole thing for what it was.
I hid in a relationship that wasn’t right.
Stacey tried to make it work anyway. Zae was there the whole time, not standing between us but consuming my every thought.
Stacey knew. Mom knew. Even Dr. Malik knew.
Ghost probably knew five minutes after meeting me and decided I wasn’t worth that many words.
Everyone fucking knew.
I head inside with Mom’s food in my hand and the future sitting heavy in my chest.
Zae is coming back.
And I don’t know if my choice was right anymore. But I know I still don’t want to put her in harm’s way.