Epilogue Cassius
My Happy Ending
I’m graduating today, and Zae is currently threatening to fight my tie.
Not me.
The tie.
“It’s crooked,” she mutters, standing on her toes in front of me with both hands at my collar and a look of deep personal betrayal on her face. “I swear to God, Cass, if you walk across that stage looking like no one loves you, I’m going to start swinging.”
I look down at her. “At me or the tie?”
“Depends how much attitude you give me in the next thirty seconds.”
I keep my hands at my sides because if I touch her right now, she’ll accuse me of interfering with her process. Also because she’s wearing a yellow dress that hits mid-thigh, and every time she moves, my brain stops being useful.
Three years together and that still hasn’t gotten better.
Actually, it’s worse now because I know what she looks like taking it off.
“Stop staring at me,” she says without looking up.
“I’m looking at the tie.”
“You are looking nowhere near the tie.”
I don’t bother denying it as she finally gets the knot straight and smooths her palms down my chest, then pauses there for half a second. Her face changes a little and I notice immediately, since I catch most things now.
I just know her. I know when her jokes are real and when they’re covering something. I know when she’s hungry but too busy to notice. I know when she needs me to make her laugh, and I know when she needs me to shut up and sit there.
It took me a while to learn the difference.
It took both of us a while.
“You okay?” I ask.
Her eyes lift to mine. “Don’t start.”
“I asked once.”
“You asked with your face too.”
“I can’t control my face.”
“Liar. You control it all the time. That’s why you look constipated in half our pictures.”
I huff a laugh and she smiles, but her fingers stay curled in the front of my shirt.
Graduation is in an hour. Mom is already somewhere on campus with enough tissues to handle a funeral, a wedding, and a commercial about shelter dogs.
Ghost, Maverick, and Riot are supposed to meet me outside the arena, which means Ghost will be on time, Maverick will be loud, and Riot will show just in the nick of time, ready to stir up some trouble.
Zae is supposed to be getting me out the door. Instead, she’s staring at my chest like my tie is a life problem.
“You’re doing it,” she says quietly.
My throat gets weird like it does when big life moments need to be admitted. “Graduating?”
“No, Cass, I mean standing in a tie.” She rolls her eyes, but her voice is softer than the joke. “Yes, graduating.”
I look around my room because looking at her is suddenly harder. It's not a dorm room anymore. It’s my apartment.
Our almost apartment, depending on how you count the amount of Zae currently living in it without technically living in it.
Half her books are on my shelf. Her gaming headset is on my desk.
Her moisturizer is in my bathroom. Her favorite blanket is on my couch because she claims mine are so scratchy they must be made out of facial hair.
She still has her dorm with Riley for her last year of school, but everyone knows the truth. Even Riley calls it out. “You don’t vacation there, Zae. You live in your boyfriend’s bat cave.”
I’d argue, but there are three of Zae’s mugs in my cabinet, so I’m not exactly winning.
“I didn’t do it alone,” I say.
Her eyes narrow. “Don’t start making this a speech. I’ll cry and ruin my mascara.”
“I’m serious.”
“So am I. This liner took a lot of time and effort.”
I catch her hand before she can step back, brushing my thumb over her knuckles. Her nails are painted yellow today to match the dress. There’s a tiny black smiley face on one of them because Zae can’t leave anything plain.
“I didn’t do it alone,” I repeat.
Her face softens, and this time she doesn’t joke. “No,” she says. “You didn’t.”
That still means something to me.
Not because she fixed me. She didn’t. She would probably punch me in the throat if I ever said she did.
But she stayed while I learned how to be someone I could stand being.
She stayed while I went to group, then more therapy, then fewer sessions, then back to more when I needed it.
She stayed through days when I had to say, “I need ten minutes,” and actually came back after ten minutes instead of disappearing into my own head.
And I stayed too. Through her bad days. Through the family therapy visit that went exactly as awful and necessary as she thought it would. Through the week after when she barely talked and then finally crawled into my lap and told me she was tired of feeling alone.
She still has days where the voices get loud. Her words, not mine. I still have days where the drop happens and my body wants to go before my brain catches up.
We’re not cured.
I hate that word anyway.
We’re better.
Zae squeezes my hand. I smile despite myself. She smiles back, and for a minute, I forget I have to leave. Then my phone buzzes on the dresser.
Ghost:
Parking lot. Riot is already harassing families. Hurry.
I show Zae the text.
She grins. “I love that he gives you field reports.”
“Mostly warnings.”
“Same thing.”
Another text pops up.
Riot:
TELL SUNSHINE I LOOK HOT TODAY
Maverick:
Do not tell her that.
Ghost:
Too late. He yelled it at a stranger.
Zae leans over my phone and cackles. “I love them.”
“They’re idiots.”
“They’re your idiots.”
“Unfortunately.”
She grabs my gown off the bed and shoves it against my chest. “Come on, graduate boy. Your idiot herd awaits.”
Mom spots us before I spot her. That’s probably because she makes a sound that can only be described as a sob with a southern accent.
Riley stands beside her with a bouquet of yellow flowers tucked in one arm and a look on her face that says she has already handled at least one crisis today. She points two fingers at her own eyes, then at me. I get the message.
Do not ruin her happiness or I will end you.
I just smile and nod, because no shit. The only plan I have is to make Zae feel loved every day.
“Oh, my baby.” She’s already coming at me, arms open, tears in her eyes, wearing a blue dress and the proudest expression I’ve ever seen on her face. Zae steps away fast, giving Mom room, but not before squeezing my hand once.
I stop dead because I’m too grown to be fussed over the way she seems to want to. “Mom.”
Mom grabs my face between both her hands. “You did it.”
“Yeah.”
“You did it.” Her voice breaks on the second one.
I used to hate crying, hers, mine, anyone’s really.
It made me feel trapped because I didn’t know what to do with it.
Now I just pull her into a hug and let her cry into my shoulder while Zae stands beside us with wet eyes and a very aggressive expression, like she’s threatening her tears if they dare to come out.
“You too,” Mom says, pulling back and reaching for Zae immediately.
Zae points at her. “No.”
Mom hugs her anyway, making Zae’s face crumble before she can hide it against Mom’s shoulder.
Mom laughs through her tears. “You’re my girl. I’m allowed.”
“I have makeup on.”
“You’re still pretty.”
“I know, but now I’m shiny.”
I glance away, giving them a second, and find Ghost watching from a few feet over.
He’s in his cap and gown, hands in his pockets, expression calm as usual.
Riot is beside him, talking with his whole body to a family who definitely did not ask while Maverick stands behind them drinking an iced coffee and looking like he regrets knowing all of us.
Ghost catches my eye and nods once. Nothing big or dramatic. I nod back. He was there for a lot of the ugly. For group, for the bad days, even for the time I called him from my car because I needed to drive somewhere and didn’t trust myself not to end up outside Zae’s dorm after a fight.
He didn’t give advice then. He just stayed on the phone and told me to go get a burger with him instead. It worked. Mostly because Ghost is hard to argue with when he’s decided what you’re doing.
Maverick sees me and throws both arms up. “Wilder! Look at you. All educated and shit.”
Zae turns toward me immediately, with a grin that always shoots me in the heart.
The ceremony is long, like way too long.
I sit beside Ghost while Maverick and Riot are two rows in front of us whispering loud enough for three departments to hear.
Someone’s cap falls off. Someone’s grandmother cheers so loud half the arena turns.
The speaker talks about future, purpose, resilience, all the things people say when they’re trying to make thousands of dollars in student loans sound inspiring.
I tune most of it out until my name is called.
Cass Wilder.
For some reason, that’s when it hits me. It hits me when I look out and see Mom standing with both hands over her mouth, and Zae beside her, clapping so hard her bracelets shake. She’s crying openly now, not even trying to hide it, her mouth wide in the biggest smile I’ve ever seen on her face.
She cups her hands around her mouth and yells, “THAT’S MY SKATER BOY!”
The arena laughs around her as my face gets hot. I love her so much I almost forget how to walk. Ghost says something under his breath when I sit back down.
“What?”
He doesn’t look at me. “You better marry that girl.”
My hand moves to my pocket before I can stop it and he notices.
His mouth barely curves. “Good.”
I stare at him. “Shut up.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You said good.”
“That’s one word.”
“One too many.”
He looks forward again, calm as ever. “Don’t trip when you do it.”
“Very helpful.”
“I try.”
The ring box sits in my pocket the rest of the ceremony, burning a hole through my gown, my pants, my skin, and maybe my soul.
I bought it two months ago knowing Zae still had a year left. And I have a job lined up now that pays enough to be okay. I don’t want to marry her tomorrow, but I need her to know I’m not going anywhere. Ever.
We have time, plans, and therapy appointments. There are still bad habits we catch late sometimes. Good days we don’t take for granted anymore. But I’ve known for a long time.