Page 65 of Just Between Us

I take a sip, the spicy tartness hitting my taste buds in a burst of flavor. “Thanks!”

“You okay? You look a little pale.”

“Just some family stuff,” I dismiss. “I’ll be fine.”

Sam’s eyes go tender. “Anything you need talk about? What can I do?”

I force a smile. “I just need to find my brother.”

We approach the crowd in silence, but part ways when he spots a fellow teacher he wants to say hello to. I can’t hold back the sigh I let out.

Sam is great. Truly. Over the last three weeks, we’ve been on a few more dates and had a nice time. He took me to the fall festival at the brewery, walked me to my door later that night, and kissed me. Everything about it was fine, not too aggressive or clumsy. And yet I felt nothing.

Still no butterflies or sparks, but…fine.

Just as I’m setting the pasta on the table full of casseroles and salads, my brother’s voice reaches my ears. Slowly, I turn, and that’s when I see her.

Standing next to Aunt Ashley, arms wrapped around Austin’s neck, is my mother. Suddenly the decade we’ve been apart feels like an eternity.

She’s changed so much from the woman I remember. Over that FaceTime call, I knew she looked thin, but next to Austin’sbreadth and height, she looks downright bony. The brown cardigan seems to hang on her rail-thin frame.

Austin releases her, and I force my feet to move. Each step feels like I’m wading through water. I’m halfway to them when she looks up, as if she felt my stare.

Our eyes connect and my mom’s face crumples, one hand going to her mouth. My steps quicken until I’m there, facing the mom I’ve longed to see for close to a decade.

“Cassie.” Her voice breaks in two on my name.

Our arms do a brief, awkward dance and then mine are around her shoulders. She’s crying, I’m crying, and to my left I hear Aunt Ashley sniffle. The hug continues, and I don’t want to let go. I can’t let go. Not yet.

“You’re here,” I whisper. “You’re really here.”

“I’m here,” she croaks out.

When we finally break apart, she holds me at arm’s length, like she’s cataloguing all that’s changed, and I wonder what she sees.

“You look so grown up, sweetheart.”

I laugh, a watery sound. “I’m thirty, Mom.”

She laughs quickly, but then her face sobers. “I know. It’s just—I missed so much.” Her voice breaks again, and I take both her hands into mine.

“You’re here now. That’s what matters.”

Penny joins us, and I step aside to let Austin introduce her to our mom. I’m half listening to Austin gush about the studio when my throat constricts with heightened awareness, and every thought eddies from my consciousness but one.

Liam is here.

Don’t ask me how I know this. But I do. It’s as though my body has its own internal compass and his presence is due north.

Scanning the crowd, my eyes slide right past Sam, laughing jovially with a group near the drink table, and land on Liam adjusting a microphone on the stage.

I’m frozen in place, my stomach performing the same flip italways does when I see him. But when he stands, that flip becomes a free fall.

He looks absolutely terrible, yet still so beautiful.

Dark circles shadow his eyes, so pronounced they might as well be bruises. His black Henley, which would usually fit snug across his chest, hangs loose, and I’m certain his cheekbones are more pronounced than they were last time I saw him. That messy hair I love is disheveled, like he’s run his hands through it all day.

Even from this distance, I can tell Liam is not doing well.