You and Everything After

Chapter 17

Ty

“You were awesome. Seriously. I had no idea.” I’ve been gushing for the last hour. I praised her during the entire walk home. I waited in her room, waited while she showered, waited while she changed outfits several times—even though every time it was just a different long-sleeved shirt with jeans. I was the only one talking, just my mouth running off words about how goddamned good she was. It’s kind of starting to piss me off.

She smiles. Says thanks. But her reactions are that of a beaten puppy. I can’t tell what the hell is wrong. I haven’t talked to Kelly for a week, since our phone call. And I know I’ve been a little absent with Cass. I’m there, but I can’t help but let my head drift to Kel and Jackson, alone, while Jared is off somewhere…getting high. That pisses me off, to the point of punching things.

Everything in my path lately…pissing me off!

Today, I’ve been all Cass’s. I’ve been with her every moment. When I asked her if something was wrong—or if someone made her upset—she just said her body was tired. And maybe that’s it—but I kind of don’t think that’s it.

“You almost ready? We should get to Sally’s before it gets busy,” I say, knowing that we’re already going to have to wait an hour just to find a seat. I’m hungry. And that pisses me off, too.

“I’ll pack you a snack,” she says, almost a joke. I think that was a joke. Was that a joke? It wasn’t funny. And she’s not looking at me, smiling, laughing. I don’t think that was a joke.

“Okay,” I say, challenging her. She tosses me a granola bar, and I catch it and stare at her while she busies herself with her purse, her hair, her shoes. She won’t make eye contact, and it’s killing me. PISSING ME OFF!

I follow her to the door, and just before she opens it, I reach for her back pocket and tug, trying to get her close to me. Maybe also trying to add a little of her calming serum to my boiling blood.

“Ty, don’t,” she says, shrugging me off.

“Right. Got it. Wouldn’t dream of touching you, princess,” I say under my breath, moving by her to the elevator so I can be alone with her in an even more confined space. Yeah, tonight should be fun.

I’m careful to keep the conversation on her game, on her training, and her plans now that she’s been offered the spot. She seems willing to talk about this stuff. But her answers are still clipped.

We get to Sally’s, and the wait is an hour. Surprise.

“Why are you so cranky?” she asks. Seriously? She initiates a conversation for the first time all night…and this? She asks me why I’m cranky? Pokes the fucking starved-ass bear?

“I was hungry…an hour ago,” I say, every acid-laced word that comes out of my mouth making me feel bad. Why are we fighting? Why can’t I stop? Why won’t she stop?

“I gave you a snack,” she says, standing from the wooden bench she’s been sitting on for the last ten minutes while we wait. “I have to go to the bathroom.”

I don’t say a word when she leaves. I do my best to smile, my inner voice coaching me not to make things worse. Maybe this can be a reset button—when Cass comes back, we’ll just start over. Begin at normal.

She’s gone for almost ten minutes, at least, that’s how long I’m guessing she’s been gone, because I realize that she still has my watch. Which, of course, pisses me off. I make sure it’s the first thing I ask when she returns.

“Hey, where’s my watch?” I probably could have said that better. I’d feel guilty, but she’s suddenly frozen, as in not breathing. Her eyes widen—it’s the slightest difference, but I see it. I’m a great poker player, and I look for these things when I’m reading someone. Cass just showed her cards, and she doesn’t even know it.

“My…watch?” I ask again, eyebrow cocked. Her eyes fade now, her mouth dropping into an even line. She looks sick.

“Ty, I…” she starts, looking into her lap where her hands are tugging at the edges of her sleeves, pulling the fabric over her wrists, her wrists where normally my watch should be.

“You have my watch, don’t you? Cass, this isn’t funny. Tell me you have my watch,” I demand. She doesn’t’ have it. I know she doesn’t. I knew it the moment her breath stopped.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” It’s a rhetorical question, so I don’t bother to hold her eye contact to wait for her answer. My hands are in my hair, my hat tossed on my lap while I try to imagine how I’m going to be whole again.