You and Everything After (Falling #2)(65)

“Fuuuuuck,” I moan. It just slipped out. It’s my attitude. I’m usually able to keep it in check, but I think maybe I’m just done—done with it all.

“Cassidy!” Here comes the scolding.

“Sorry,” I say, glad she can’t see me shake my head and roll my eyes.

“This is that Tyson fellow’s influence, isn’t it?” she says, not even disguising the judgment. I’m sure I can thank Paige for this. I don’t know why my mom acts like this. She’s a textiles designer who owns a bead shop—she’s borderline hippy. She’s supposed to be open, accepting, and not…well, not a snob!

“Paige told you about Ty, I see,” I say, sitting down on my floor with my back against my dresser. Might as well get comfortable.

“Well, it’s not like you tell me about your boyfriends,” she says, and I hear the little tone at the end of that statement too. Boyfriends—like I’ve ever had more than just this one.

“Mom, there’s just Ty. He’s it, and I like him. I like him a lot. You’d like him too if you’d bother to meet him in person—instead of the version of him that lives in Paige’s head,” I admonish.

“Oh, she didn’t say anything bad about him. She only told us that he’s disabled, in a wheelchair? Is that right?” she asks, like she even has to.

“Yes, Mom. He’s in a wheelchair. But I don’t even notice. He’s a physical trainer, and a grad student,” I start to launch into my list of all of Ty’s amazing qualities, but she’s not listening.

“Right, that’s what your sister said. He’s older,” she says, a special emphasis on that word.

“Yes, he’s older than me, but not by a lot. And that shouldn’t matter. Dad’s older than you,” by, like, ten years I continue in my head.

“Right, right. I know. It’s just…” I don’t like her pause. She’s mulling, and hemming, and hawing. “—with this Paul Cotterman situation, Cass…are you sure you need to be having an affair with another older man?”

Another. She used the word another.

“What do you mean?” I’m back on my feet, pacing. Pissed. On fire.

“Honey, maybe you shouldn’t be dating. Or, at least…maybe you should meet some of the boys in your class? You know, your age?”

I don’t talk at first. I make it uncomfortable. I use this time to choose my words. I have one shot at this, and then she’ll call my father, and then he’ll lecture me. Of course, I’m not picking up my phone anymore today, so it doesn’t matter.

“Mom, I’m only going to say this once. Paul Cotterman is a sick man who tried to touch me inappropriately, with physical force, in a classroom that I later found out was locked. I punched him—hard. And you should be proud that you raised a daughter who not only knew what to do, but has the physical strength to beat her way out of a nightmare,” I say, stopping for a breath before launching into my disappointment in her. But she interrupts me, halts me, and then kills me dead.

“Cass, are you sure this wasn’t like that thing with Kyle Loftman last spring?” Her question leaves me breathless. My father told her, told her everything. And I’m sure she told Paige. My secrets are not so secret.

I don’t say anything else, and the sensation of my phone in my hand, against my ear, suddenly feels burning hot. I pull it to my lap and look at it; the text reads MOM to identify who I’m talking to.

“Cass? Are you there, honey?” I can hear her voice mutter from my lap. I stare at the phone though, don’t pick it back up to continue our conversation. “Cass? Cassidy? Cass?”

She sounds like she’s in a box—so I close it, and press my finger to the END CALL button. I put the ringer on vibrate, so I don’t have to hear it loudly.

I wait for Ty. I need Ty. I love Ty.

Ty will make this all okay.





Ty


“Dude, so she bought you floor seats? For the Thunder game?” I’m looking at the tickets, holding them in my hand. They don’t even have row numbers on them. They just say VIP and then a string of letters. I’m officially jealous of my brother.

“Third-row, but close,” he grins at me. He should grin—turns out Rowe is even cooler than I thought.

My brother’s birthday is this week, and Rowe surprised him with the tickets after their prom experience. I didn’t bother to tell him about my prom, because I knew there was no way his could compare.

I haven’t stopped thinking about Cass since she slept in my arms last night. I couldn’t get back from workouts fast enough, and when I left the gym, I went right to her room. Rowe came home an hour later, and I got a feeling she wanted some time with Cass, so I came here. But I wanted to stay there. I would have stayed there all night, again—every night.

She didn’t buy me floor seats to the Thunder game, but what she gave me…it was so much more. I’m not very eloquent at talking about feelings. I don’t really know what to say. I’m good at honesty, and at calling people on bullshit. But I need to say something to Cass.

I need to say a lot of things to Cass.

“So, can I have them back?” Nate startles me. I’m still holding his tickets.

“Oh, yeah, sorry,” I say, handing them back. He takes them slowly, one brow arched suspiciously.