You and Everything After (Falling #2)(86)

Her tone is accusatory, and my gut instinct is to say something back to her in the exact same tone. But I don’t. Because no—Cass hasn’t said anything to me. If she’s been feeling things, she’s been keeping it to herself. And it hurts a little that she didn’t tell me. I shake my head no and move into the elevator as it opens.

“Mom is getting her in with her neurologist. Hopefully tomorrow.”

I nod again.

“She’s been pushing herself,” Paige says.

That one was directed to me. She’s making this my fault. That’s not happening.

“She’s also been stressed,” I say back, keeping my eyes forward. That one was for her.

“I brought Cass’s car. She has more room,” Paige says, pulling the passenger door open for me, and then stepping back. She’s not sure what to do, and that’s okay. I understand. I pull myself into the passenger side and then reach over to collapse the chair for her.

“You’ll need to get it in the trunk. It’s not as heavy as it looks,” I say, and she nods. She struggles with it a little, but she doesn’t say anything. I watch her in the rearview mirror as she pushes and grunts until my chair is in the trunk, and then she closes the heavy top.

Cass’s car is hot. It’s something I would drive. And I bet she wanted to be the one to show it to me. I only let myself look at the interior, and not awe over it for long, so that way she can take me out in it again when she’s ready. I bet she drives it fast.

Paige drives it like a grandmother. It takes her four attempts to back out of her spot, and she rides the break all the way down the turn-ramp for the garage. I keep my mouth shut, though. I could easily make her more nervous, pick on her—like I would if Nate were driving. But I don’t feel like joking around with Paige. Our last conversation consisted of her telling me I didn’t deserve her sister. Now I felt like saying the same thing to her.

“They can’t make her quit,” I say after a few long minutes of silence. Turns out I’m not very good at keeping quiet.

“Hmmmm?” Paige says, looking over her shoulder to switch lanes on the highway. She drives this car like a boat. It’s a little funny. And scary.

“Soccer. Your parents can’t make her quit,” I say, keeping my eyes on her, putting a little pressure on her so she gets my point.

“That’s not up to me,” she says finally, still not glancing in my direction.

“It’s not up to them either,” I say back, turning my attention to the passenger window for the rest of the drive. My first trip to California, and it’s too dark to see the beach. Just one more thing I’ll save for Cass.



The driveway is dark when we pull in, and no one comes out to help. “Cass is probably inside. She’s a little wobbly on her legs. Or at least, she was this afternoon,” Paige says, popping the trunk and moving to the back of the car. I hate that I have to depend on her right now.

She manages to work my chair out and unfold it so she can push it next to me. “I’ve got it from here,” I say, pulling myself in and grabbing my bag from the floor of the passenger side.

I push the door closed and follow Paige up the driveway through the garage to a back door. There’s a little bit of a lip, but I manage to make it over and into the house.

“We’re here!” Paige yells, dropping her purse on top of the washing machine in the laundry room.

I follow her through the kitchen to a large living room with a gigantic television and fireplace. Cass sits up quickly and looks at me over the back of the sofa. As painful as the ride here was with her sister, seeing her eyes light up like that made it all worthwhile.

“Hey,” she says, her voice raw, like she’s been sleeping. Good, I hope she’s been sleeping.

“Not cool,” I say, pushing closer until I’m next to her at the sofa arm. “Faking a flare-up for attention.”

I’m kidding, and Cass knows I’m only joking. Her Mom, however, does not.

“Tyson, Cass is not well,” she says in the most serious voice I am pretty sure I’ve ever heard.

“Mom, he knows. He’s joking,” Cass says over her shoulder, turning back to me to roll her eyes and shake her head. She leans forward and places a hand on either side of my face. “God I’m glad you’re here,” she says, kissing me and holding her lips to mine like she needs them to breathe. I think she just might.

“Well, that’s not a very funny joke,” Cass’s mom says, standing up from her chair, looking for an excuse to leave the room. She doesn’t like me, but I don’t want that to be my fault, so I move to meet her before she can leave the room.

“I’m sorry, ma’am,” I say, Southern drawl doing it’s thing. “I didn’t mean to be disrespectful. Humor—sometimes it takes the edge off, that’s all. Thank you for having me as a guest in your home.”

I hold my hand out, hoping she’ll take it. She finally does, though her grip is weak and timid. Nothing at all like her daughters’—either of them. “Let me show you to your room,” she says, leading me down a hall to the back of the house. I look over my shoulder to Cass, and she’s laughing quietly at me, but she gives me a wink.

“I hope you don’t mind, the only other guests we have are usually my parents, so the room is a little…Victorian,” she says, reaching for a pillow on the bed and straightening the ruffled case that’s covering it. This room puts the pink Barbie room to shame.