I don’t say the next part. That’s what hurts me the most. That’s what made me cry. Someone told Chandra about Paul Cotterman—and I’m pretty sure it was Paige.

Chapter 23

Ty

“Dude, you need to spend more nights with Cass. You’re a pain in the ass to sleep in the same room with lately,” Nate says. It was another night of tossing and turning, and my pain has been spiking more than normal lately. Fucking up a spinal cord does a number on the nerves, and they let me know when they’re pissed off. Mine are really pissed off. But I don’t like taking meds. Meds can sometimes lead to dependence and depression, and that shit ain’t happening to me.

“Sorry man. Cass has had a busy couple of weeks, and finals are coming up. I’ve been putting in a lot of reading time,” I say. I’m pretty sure I just fed Nate a bunch of excuses.

Cass has been busy working her ass off with soccer. She hasn’t talked to her parents in weeks, and she’s not really speaking to Paige either. I talked her into filing a police report on Paul Cotterman, and it took me days to convince her it was the right thing to do. She kept saying that it would ruin her dad’s plans, but I told her that her dad’s plans sound like bullshit. If this dude ends up fighting to get his job back, then there needs to be a paper trail that lays out what a douche he is.

All of the drama has gotten in the way of easy though. I miss easy. I miss that moment—her on my lap at the Halloween party, before Chandra set off a row of dominoes that tipped over every ray of sunshine in Cass’s life, replacing it with a cloud. I don’t know how to make her sun shine through again. The power doesn’t rest with me, and the small places where it does, I just mess it up.

“Hey, thanks for inviting Rowe to Thanksgiving by the way. That didn’t hurt Cass’s feelings or anything,” I say, throwing my rolled up dirty socks at my brother.

“First of all, fuck you very much. Second of all, you like Rowe. She needed a place to go, and I want her with me. If it’s such a big deal, then suck it up and invite Cass,” he says, throwing my dirty laundry back in my lap.

I’d love to invite Cass. I almost did. But Kelly’s been calling me every night lately. Jared’s been disappearing more often. He told her he’s taking a class, something for his sales position. I promised Kelly I’d get to the bottom of it for her when I come home, and having Cass there…that complicates things.

I flop back on my bed and sigh, loudly enough for Nate to hear and chuckle at my helplessness. I’m helpless—utterly lost on the relationship roadmap; I’m off the grid.

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“Is this why Tyson Preeter doesn’t do girlfriends?” Nate jokes, absolutely loving every second of my stress. “What is it you always say? Relationships are full of…fussy fuss?”

“Oh, ha ha ha. You just love throwing that saying back in my face. Yes, I didn’t do girlfriends. And now I do. And look—right smack dab in the middle of a pile of fussy fuss. Fussy fuss all over the goddamned place! It’s making me nuts!” I say, my arms stretched above my head, holding the invisible weight of everything.

“Yeah…but you love it,” Nate says, and I pause, not looking at him, not willing to answer aloud, but also unable to stop the smile that takes over my face because yeah, I love it. And I love her, too. I’m screwed.

Cass

It really hit me when I watched Rowe pack. She’s going home with Nate for the holiday. I’m going home to a house full of people I don’t want to talk to, and riding on the plane next to a sister I want to choke. I’ll be in California for almost a full week, but I’d so much rather stay here, in my dorm room, alone.

“How about I just put you in my suitcase,” Rowe jokes, zipping her small bag closed.

I pull my knees in close to my body, tucking my neck in, and trying to make myself small. “What do you think? Will I fit?” I ask, knowing I won’t. I don’t fit lots of places.

“Hmmmm, it might be a tight squeeze. I bet if I borrowed one of Paige’s bags I could get you in,” she says. I know it’s only a joke, but it still makes my stomach roll thinking about the plane ride I’m going to have to endure.

“Ugh, Paige,” I let out, surprising myself.

“Trouble in twinland lately, huh?” Rowe says, sitting next to me and pulling her knees in close. We both roll back like balls. I joked with her that this was my version of Pilates once, and ever since then, it’s become our thing.

“I’m sort of mad at Paige,” I admit, still holding my knees in to my chest, rolling to the side, knocking into Rowe. She nudges me upright with her leg, and we pull ourselves up to sitting, just to roll backward again.




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