13. Thirteen
Thirteen
Cass
Cool water runs over my hands as I try to scrub the nerves coasting through my blood.
I’m not sure why I’m so nervous, but I am.
The last time I introduced Gus to my friend group, I’d been engrossed in Chad’s high-profile lifestyle and was keenly aware that Gus hated that environment.
I’d invited Gus to a charity event. Dressed in a three-piece suit, he’d arrived with his hair styled per my instructions.
He was still swimming in the suit—a result of how sick he’d been that year.
Chad ignored him, and one of his friends, I can’t remember the woman’s name, had asked Gus if he was one of the kids receiving funds from the charity.
I’d been mortified. Less for myself and more for Gus, despite his ability to laugh off the comment, letting the woman know he was my brother and was there to support the fundraising.
Her icy gaze had raked down my brother’s body and back up before her curled lip circled around a chilly “Oh,” and she’d walked away.
Chad slept with her that night.
I’d only found that part out later.
Historically, I’ve kept things pretty separate between my friendships and my brother, August. There was always this nagging feeling that if I let him into whatever circle of friends I’d made, I wouldn’t be able to navigate the complications of our lives correctly.
It wasn’t shame regarding my brother, but a deep-seated fear that I would misstep somehow and make him feel anything other than fully a part of the group. I thought I’d be bombarded with questions—like there would be a constant tension strung around everyone and suffocating them.
That charity event had been my attempt at changing that, but all it did was serve to increase my fears. I think that’s why my housewarming party has me so jittery.
When Ellis and Griffin arrived, making themselves comfortable in the living room and digging into the platter of snacks I’d laid out, the nerves started forming.
By the time Noah and Lennon showed up, I was in a full-blown panic.
So now, I’ve taken to hiding in the bathroom and pondering the exact right way to make Gus melt seamlessly into this little family I’ve made for myself.
Deep down, I feel the need to explain—and explain some more. It’s as if I need to protect August from all the prodding and questions and pity he’s experienced through his entire life.
My therapist would probably say I’m working too hard to orchestrate a perfect environment where nobody feels uncomfortable, and everyone’s happy all the time.
It was a topic I dug into with her after Chad.
I shut off the sink, drying my hands on the towel hanging next to me before checking my phone. Wes had sent me one message about his big plans for this housewarming party. Apparently, he has something fun planned, and we should all meet him at the trail head by the barn, ready to get muddy.
“Five-thirty,” I whisper, reminding myself of the time we are supposed to meet.
To double my nerves, I can’t help but think about the bonfire at Lennon’s last week.
Wes and I have reverted to our normal dynamic (him grunting responses while trying not to grin as I prattle on), but I can’t pretend like I wasn’t fully aware of every single sensation and place we touched when I sat on his lap by the fire.
He’s so hot and cold—so difficult to read that half the time, I’m certain I’m not doing it right. I’m frustrated by it—devastatingly so—but I’m also too scared to bring it up. What happens if I start asking questions like what are we and I’m forced to confront the fact that Wes has just been… kind.
The doubt eats at me, knowing how horribly I misread my past relationship.
At this point, I’ll need a flashing, neon sign where my boss declares his unequivocal attraction to me.
I tuck my phone away in the pair of old jeans I selected and shove down any worry. The old gray t-shirt hangs loosely over my torso, and I snatch the sweatshirt from the hook on the back of the bathroom door, pulling it over my head and preparing myself for Gus’s arrival.
The handle to the bathroom door in the house looks as if it’s made of crystal—one of those old doorknobs you find at an antique store. At the thought, I’m reminded that this home really did belong to Wes’s grandmother. It feels intimate—living in the home that was part of his family and his life.
There are stories etched into every corner of this house, written in the knicks across the front door and the nail hole right above where my bed now sits. What kind of photo hung there? A wedding photo? A photo of the farm.
I find myself yearning for a place with history—a place where my story is written. The story that I wrote, and not one that was written for me.
When I exit to the hallway, Gus’s laughter rings out in the living room. It’s joined by a number of other voices.
As I round the corner, I see everyone lounging around my living room. August sits on my couch with a woman tucked beneath his arm.
“You’re here,” I say, smiling in greeting.
Gus moves to stand, wiping his hands on the loose jeans he wears. “I hope you don’t mind,” he says before plucking an apple slice from the tray. “It’s a housewarming party, so I made myself at home and immediately started eating your snacks.”
“Nothing new there,” I respond, my eyes flicking to the girl now standing at his side.
Her sleek, black hair hangs loose around her shoulders, brown eyes bright and framed by the explosion of freckles over almost every inch of her skin.
“This is Megan,” Gus introduces. “My girlfriend.”
When his arm wraps around her again, something warms within me. It’s a reminder of the life Gus has built. Standing there, looking at my baby brother looking so grown, I can’t help but confront all of those fears I had in the bathroom.
“It’s so nice to meet you!” I say, pulling Megan in for a hug.
When I pull away, we fall into playful conversation, everyone charmed by my brother’s dark humor. Megan fits right in with him—so much so, I can’t see why I was so worried about inviting August into this space.
He’s certainly not the same little brother I grew up with in childhood. He commands a room—his joy contagious in a way I hadn’t seen before.
A small slice of guilt cuts through me at the thought that I didn’t trust him—that despite it all, I still somehow failed to let Gus be Gus. His condition is not an asterisk in need of a footnote. In fact, it’s the least interesting thing about him.
“Gus has told me so much about you,” Megan starts, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. I can’t help but think about the fact that she might be nervous meeting her boyfriend’s sister—nervous meeting me.
“I’m surprised!” I say, from where I now sit next to her on the couch.
I’m vaguely aware of Gus’s hand on her shoulder.
It’s as if he’s trying to keep her there—like she’s a grounding presence.
It makes me smile. “He usually tries to hide me away. Did he tell you he once locked me in a closet when we were kids?”
“No!” she says on a laugh. “Why would he do that?”
I shrug. “Apparently, there wasn’t a lot of ice cream left in the freezer, and he wanted to make sure he had whatever was in there to himself.”
“How cruel!” she says, but there’s no real bite to the words.
When I check the time, I realize that we have about five minutes to walk the length of the driveway to the barn. I type a message to Wes.
Me: I need to get everyone walking up the drive. Be there in exactly six minutes.
His response is almost instant.
Wes: That’s one minute late.
Me: Sorry to keep you waiting.
Wes: I don’t mind waiting for you.
My stomach dips at the message, acting completely irrationally as I pocket my phone.
“We should get going,” I announce, drawing my friend’s attention.
“So,” Lennon starts, “what is it we are doing exactly?”
I shrug. “No idea. Wesley planned it and said it would be fun. I recommended swimming in the pond, but it’s way too cold. I guess we will find out when we get to the trails.”
“The trails?” Lennon questions. “Cass, have you ever heard of an Alpine Divorce?”
“No.”
“You should Google it.”
Ellis strides up next to me and nudges my shoulder. “Don’t do that. Lennon’s being dramatic and rude.” Ellis smiles, her hand touching my arm. “I’m certain Wes isn’t taking us into the woods to abandon us and leave us for dead.”
My eyes widen. “Is that what that is?” I question.
“Apparently, it’s a thing. If you ever watched the videos we sent in the group chat, you’d know we did a whole deep dive on this a few days ago.”
I shake my head, chuckling. “You know I get behind on that while I’m working the farm. I think you should be proud of me for kicking my doomscrolling habit.”
When we all step outside, the overcast sky bathes the gravel road in soft blue and gray. The grass looks vibrant despite the dreary weather—as if it’s pleading with the skies to release another one of those nourishing spring rains.
I put my hands in my sweatshirt, thankful I took the text about being willing to get muddy very seriously.
Noah and Griffin get into some random argument, wrestling out ahead of us as Lennon asks Gus and Megan a million questions.
Ellis matches her steps to mine, brushing the hair out of her face when the wind blows. “It’s nice to meet some of your family,” she says, and I offer a wan smile.
Guilt eats at me, though I’m sure she didn’t mean to press the bruise. It doesn’t change the pain, though.
I’m watching real-time as my brother becomes his own person, watching all the ways in which he is so capable of living his own life, and I’ve been hiding him away.
It hurts to know how he’s confided in me all growing up, saying he hated being treated differently from everyone else. I hate realizing I’m one of the ones who was doing that—even if it wasn’t as obvious.
“I’m glad too,” I add, and mean it. “My family dynamic is all over the place. I try to avoid having to explain everything, you know?”