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Cass (4:45 p.m.): Also, not to brag, but it’s sunny and 65 here today. Maybe you should have stuck around ;)

“It says, ‘How does social and emotional development overlap with linguistic development and cognitive development in children ages five to seven? Provide examples and discuss three ways development could be stimulated in the classroom setting.’ That sounds like it could be an entire book, not just a five-paragraph essay, eh?”

“Huh?” Ash looked up from his phone and then blinked as Grant’s words registered. “Uh, yeah, yeah, totally not just an essay,” he agreed. Grant’s eyes narrowed, but Ash shrugged and glanced back down. “One sec, lemme just . . .” He didn’t finish his sentence, and instead, he started typing a quick response.

Ash (4:46 p.m.): Definitely feels good to be home

He hit send, even though he wasn’t really done typing, and then he quickly blacked out the screen as Grant leaned over and elbowed him in the side.

“Ooh, Cass. Who’s Cass? Anyone I know?” Grant asked, a clear tease to his tone.

And even though there wasn’t anything to be embarrassed about, Ash felt his cheeks heat up at the insinuation. “No one, it’s not like that,” he said quickly, stuffing his phone in his pocket. “He’s just that guy who helped me out in Redding.”

“Ahhh. I see. Just that guy, huh?”

Ash rolled his eyes. “I still regret telling you, you know.”

Grant laughed. “Oh, come on now, that was, what, five years ago? I mean, is it still true? We haven’t talked about it since. And I’ve never told a soul.”

“It was five years ago. On my fifteenth birthday.”

“And?”

“And, what?” Ash arched his eyebrows but dropped his gaze down to the study guide in front of him, like it was suddenly super interesting.

“And is it still true?” Grant asked.

Ash narrowed his eyes and looked back up at his friend. “Am I still gay?”

Grant shrugged, looking sheepish. “Well, I mean, what I remember you saying was you ‘thought’ you—”

“I am,” Ash cut in, and he sighed heavily and ran a hand through his hair. “I am gay. Not that I’ve—” He shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. And Cass, he’s just a guy who helped me out when my car got stuck in the snow. I texted him earlier to let him know Bri and I made it back safely, and he responded. That’s all.”

He knew his tone sounded defensive, and he couldn’t immediately pinpoint why; Grant hadn’t said or done anything to deserve it, and while he’d kept his secret to himself all of these years, he wasn’t ashamed of who he was or anything like that.

He let out a short breath and shook his head again. “Sorry, I’m just—”

A sudden ache pulsed in his chest, and he lowered his head into his hands as all the air left his lungs.

Dammit.

Ashlynn.

That was why.

She hadn’t known. He’d never told her. He’d never told her, and now he never could tell her. And something about that hurt much, much more than he’d expected it to.

He clenched his jaw and shook his head, forcing an unsteady breath and then another. Not now, he told himself. He couldn’t do this right now—he couldn’t let himself get lost in what ifs and a future that couldn’t happen. He couldn’t let himself get upset and sad and cry. He couldn’t grieve. He didn’t have time for it.

Soon, Shaina would be back with Bri, and he’d have to be “Uncle Ash” again. He’d have to pretend and smile and be strong. And he had to keep studying, keep working hard. He had finals tomorrow and later in the week, and he couldn’t afford to fail—Bri was depending on him.

Grant’s hand settled on his shoulder again. “Sorry if I said something wrong. I shouldn’t have teased about Cass. I, uh, well . . . Yeah, I’m sorry.”

Ash immediately shook his head. “No, no, it’s nothing you said. I’m just tired. Like, really, really tired. Maybe we can just finish here and then unload the U-Haul. I have to return it tomorrow morning before class.”

“Yeah, of course.” Grant nodded and pulled his hand back. “So, this third essay question . . .”

Clearing his throat, Ash pushed away all other thoughts—something he’d been getting much too good at lately—and tabbed to the open Google Docs window on his computer rather than reading from Grant’s screen. “It doesn’t seem too hard. Didn’t Cramer talk about the overlap between the types of development in one of the lectures I missed? Your notes . . . yeah, the one here, from the beginning of last week, right?”