You and Everything After (Falling #2)(87)

“It’s fine. And again, thank you,” I say, her mom turning to look at me with a pause. She breathes in, ready to say something—before pushing her lips into a tight smile, and nodding as she turns to leave. Cass comes in a few seconds later.

“Your mom is not a big fan,” I smile. I don’t think her dad is a very big fan either, based on our phone conversation, but I don’t tell her that.

“She’s just not used to a boy being here. It’s weird for her. I was sort of surprised she said yes, but my dad made this face at her. I think he’s sort of on your side,” she says, her smile bigger. There’s a part of me that thinks her dad may have lured me here to murder me. But I keep that to myself too.

“So, how long?” I ask, unzipping my bag and pulling out my few toiletries. I don’t look at her while I do this, because I don’t want her to see the hurt on my face. She senses it anyway.

“A few weeks…nothing big until a few days ago, though. I’m sorry…” she says, and I look up with a soft smile.

“Sorry for what?” I shrug. I don’t want her apologizing. I’ll get over being hurt. This isn’t about me. It isn’t about Paige or her parents. It’s about her, and people need to let it just be about her.

“That I didn’t tell you,” she says.

I shrug again and go back to putting my things on the night table. I pull my watch off and hold it in my hand, running my thumb over the always, soaking in it’s meaning. “I get it. You were scared. And talking about things like weaknesses makes them real,” I say, handing my watch to her.

She takes it and looks at it closely. “Something like that…yeah,” she says, her fatigue showing through. I don’t know how I didn’t see it before.

She hands the watch back, but I shake my head no. Her brow furrows.

“You keep it,” I say. She looks back down, rolling the metal band through her fingers until she gets to the always. “This…isn’t meant for me.”

“It’s meant for whoever needs it,” I say quickly, holding my hand around hers, clasping the watch in her fingers tightly. She looks up at me, unsure. “It’s mine to give. And you need it.”

Her hands stay in mine for a few more seconds, and I relax my hold slowly, until I’m sure she’s going to keep the watch. She puts it around her wrist, clipping the clasp. It’s about five rungs too big for her thin arm, and it makes her laugh.

“You can push it up to your bicep, wear it like an iPod,” I joke, and she chuckles back.

“Yeah, that won’t look weird,” she says, twisting the silver around her arm a few times, her breath held, until she looks back at me. “Thanks, Ty.”

“It’s nothin’,” I shrug back. That was a lie—it’s everything. I never thought I would be able to live without that watch. Now, I don’t think I can live without Cass’s smile. I’ll do whatever it takes to get that back, make it permanent.

“You hungry?” she asks.

“Does a bear shit in the woods?”

She stops me at the doorway as I follow her out. “Yeah, uhm, maybe turn the Ty down, just a notch, until my mom warms up to you?”

“What? Your mom hates bears? Damn, what kind of household is against Leo and grizzlies? I don’t know, Cass, I’m starting to think y’all have some prejudices that I just can’t look past,” I say, wincing like I’m serious. I drop the act fast though when I can tell she’s not in the mood. “Got it, tone down the bear shit. Done,” I salute her.

I watch her carefully for the rest of the night. Her mom hovers, bringing her a plate to eat on the sofa. I join her there, deciding to stay near her instead of at the table with her mom and Paige. Even if laser beams of disdain didn’t come from their eyes, I’d still sit with Cass. I can’t be close enough to her. I missed her. And she’s faltering. She needs me now.

We watch television, a full couch cushion apart while her mom and Paige are in the room with us. It’s weird how nobody is talking. In my house, everyone is always talking—we talk over each other. Hell, I’m not sure any of us actually listen we love talking so much. Here, it’s pin-drop kind of quiet.

“Where’s your dad,” I whisper to her, after her sister finally leaves the room.

“He works late. His office is downtown,” she says, the corner of her lip curling in apology. “You’ll see him tomorrow though. He has the day off. We make the doctor-visit thing a family affair.”

I don’t have an answer for that. I know how she feels. It’s smothering. But I also know that her parents—though they show it in freakishly overbearing ways perhaps—are probably just worried.

“Well, I’m totally coming too. I mean, this will probably become the topic of conversation at dinner tomorrow, right?” I ask, and she smiles, amused. “I don’t want to feel left out. It would be like not watching one of those big cable shows and then trying to decipher everyone’s OMGs on Twitter.”

I OMG-ed. It felt dirty. But she laughed, so it was worth it. Maybe.

“You may have noticed, HIPAA laws don’t apply to Cass Owens,” she says, a wry laugh coming through.

“Welcome to the club. I was a medical-student case. Had twelve doctors. Oh, and...my legs are in Newsweek.”