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Cass

“You’ll be okay, then, ma?” Cass knelt down next to the couch and set his hand on top of his mom’s, trying to pretend he wasn’t in a huge hurry. “It shouldn’t take too long, but the deadline is in about an hour, and I need to finish up a few things before I submit the assignment. Then I’ve gotta take a short quiz.”

His mom’s other hand came up to cover his, and she managed a small nod, though she didn’t speak. That had Cass worried, and he lingered there with her for another moment, studying her tired eyes and the way her slight head tilt looked maybe a little worse than normal.

She was fine. She’d been fine. She was always extra tired after PT, and it probably hadn’t helped that her appointment that morning had run late and had ended up being longer than the typical forty-five minute session.

Which was also why he was now almost late with the report he had due today.

“Okay. Call me if you need anything, yeah?”

She nodded again and patted his hand. “Go, finish your schoolwork.”

He forced a small smile, leaned in and kissed her forehead, and then stood and headed down the hall toward his bedroom. His laptop was open on his desk, just as he’d left it earlier that morning.

He sat and hit the space bar to wake the computer up, then pulled a notebook out of his desk drawer and skimmed through his notes while waiting. His knee bounced up and down, and he glanced at the clock on his phone more than once before the computer had finally booted up fully. Less than a minute later, his fingers hovered over the keyboard as he tried desperately to find the right words to conclude his report.

Two months into his classes—and only about a month until the first of his final exams—and he was struggling. He only had two classes, since he’d opted for the slower but easier of the two possible degree paths offered to students in his program. Yet it seemed like every week, he was pushing every deadline until the last possible moment. He wasn’t deliberately procrastinating, but it sure seemed like he barely had enough time to get things done.

He was really looking forward to next week, when he’d have a few days off over Thanksgiving. Four whole days with no assignments or deadlines. His dad even had the time off work, thanks to seniority, and so Cass had very few family obligations as well.

That would allow him to concentrate on other things.

As if on cue, his phone lit up on the desk next to him, Ash’s name popping onto the screen with the notification. Cass bit his lip, glanced at the time, and groaned.

He literally had only six minutes left to write the rest of the conclusion for his ten-page report. He was distracted. And tired. And his brain had gone completely blank.

He was screwed.

Mumbling “sorry” under his breath, even though he knew Ash wouldn’t know, he flipped his phone over and pushed it to the other side of his desk. Then he tried to get himself to concentrate.

Five minutes later, he blew out a short breath as he hit the submit button with less than thirty seconds to spare. Then he dropped his head down onto his desk, scowling inwardly at his final sentences, which sounded like he’d just completely regurgitated the introductory paragraph.

He’d finished, though. That was the important part. He only hoped the rest of the report was solid enough that the less-than-effective conclusion wouldn’t hurt his grade too much.

He glanced at his phone, which had buzzed another two times while he’d been frantically typing. Although he very much wanted to check it now, he knew that would only distract him. And he still had another deadline. So instead, he pushed himself to his feet and took a quick peek out his bedroom door.

His mom was in exactly the same spot where he’d left her, sitting on the couch with her hands in her lap, watching the TV. She tilted her head slightly, as though she knew he was looking at her.

“Did you finish?” she asked quietly.

He swallowed and stepped out of his room. “Yeah, I just finished with the report,” he said. “I have a quiz still.”

With effort, she shifted to look at him. Her crooked smile held a sort of knowing concern and a softness that Cass could feel. “I’m okay, Caspian,” she said, one of her eyebrows lifting with amusement. “Finish up what you need to, and don’t worry about me.”

“I always worry about you, ma.” He frowned and started toward her, shoving his hands into his pockets.

They’d had this conversation before. Many times. But no matter how much his mother tried to reassure him, he couldn’t seem to not worry, especially now that he had so many other things tugging him in all different directions all the time.

His mom gave him a look that was part reprimand, part understanding, and she patted the seat next to her on the couch.

“You heard Dr. Granger this morning, just as well as I did. What did he say again?”

Cass rolled his eyes as he sat next to his mom and took her hand. She squeezed, though her grip was weak. “He said you’re doing very well, and he’s happy with the improvement in your dexterity and wrist strength.”

“And?” The corner of his mom’s mouth quirked up, like she was teasing him.

He groaned. “And he said you’re doing a great job with your exercises.”