Cassi

My suitcase still didn’t close.

Duct tape would do the trick until I got another set of luggage.

Until I had a place to go. Somewhere I could run where it wouldn’t hurt anymore.

Too bad I couldn’t go back in time.

At least my brothers had learned to politely rap on the door before barging into my room. All it took was one late-night intrusion while my hands were busy under the blankets, and my humiliation awarded me privacy. Still wasn’t able to look Tidus in the eyes though.

Tidus entered first. Reluctantly, he made way for Jules too.

I didn’t have much to say to either of them. They talked anyway.

“Doctors called.” Jules sat on my bed, grimaced, then stood and gestured to the bed as if asking permission. A step in the right direction. Now if he’d stop using my conditioner, we’d be set. “Marius is moving out of the ICU tomorrow. Transferring to a different wing in the hospital.”

“I know.” I set my suitcase near the door. “I talked to Marius this morning.”

“Oh.”

I arched an eyebrow. “And when was the last time you talked to Marius?”

Jules shrugged. Tidus cleared his throat.

“Yeah,” I said. “Well, I’m glad you heard it from the doctors instead of your brother.”

Jules rubbed his face. Exhaustion marred my eldest brother’s features. The grey in his temples had started to spread. Not much, but more than had been there before he’d started calculating the cost of the equipment we needed to get the farm operational.

“Marius and I aren’t…” Jules must have hoped that I’d finish his thought. Nope. I wasn’t covering for their petty fights anymore. “It was easier when he was still unconscious.”

“Yeah, forgiveness is a bitch,” I said.

Tidus glanced at the suitcase. He read my mind, as usual. “What the hell are you doing?”

“What do you mean?”

“We’re your brothers. We’re supposed to be miserable. But I don’t like seeing my sister upset.”

I crossed my arms. “I’m not upset.”

Jules frowned. “Liar.”

“I’m fine.”

Tidus agreed. “Liar.”

“What do you want from me?” I gestured to my old room, my bed, my own corner of Butterpond where nothing ever changed, people never forgave each other, and the water tasted a little oily. “I’m fine.”

“Where’s Rem?” Jules asked.

Oh, he wanted to open that can of worms? “Since when do you care?”

“Since you started to care about him.”

My turn. “Liar.”

“Well,” Tidus swore. “Guess we’re all big sacks of shit lying to each other, aren’t we?”

Jules nodded. “Guess so.”

“Well, what happened?” Tidus awkwardly asked the questions neither of them wanted to be answered. “I thought…things were going well.”

Was that before or after the entire town berated Rem? “It was going good until you accused him of taking advantage of me. You remember…when you insulted him in front of the family and the little girls he was raising?” The words ached. I gave up. “Doesn’t matter. You were right. Happy now?”

“If you think I’m happy that you’re upset—"

“Forget it.” I batted Jules and his dusty feet away from my area rug and leaned against the window. “I knew he was bad news five years ago.”

“And now?” Jules asked.

“He’s even worse.”

“Do you really believe that?”

“Don’t you?”

Jules smirked. “Well, yeah. But I always thought he was one paycheck short of becoming a criminal and one cigarette too many to be a choir boy.” He paused. “But you never believed that.”

Tidus teased me, his voice pitched chipmunk high. “He’s changed, guys. He’s different now.” I pitched a water bottle at his head. He caught it with a grin. “What do you really think, Sassy?”

If I spoke it out loud I’d need a pint of Ben and Jerry’s to get through the conversation and then another to wash down the bitterness.

“I think he’s a good man and a complete idiot,” I said.

Jules didn’t argue. “There it is.”

“I’m serious. He’s hellbent on living this life of isolation, like he’s ashamed of himself or what he’s done. He doesn’t think he’s a good influence on the girls—he won’t even go over to Emma’s and visit them. He’s constantly lying to hide what happened in the past…”

I stared outside, over the farm, admiring the landscaping and hedge work Jules had done. It looked nice. Neat. Like how Dad used to have it. When life was simpler, and I had all the time in the world to let myself get hurt.

“He’s more of an idiot now than he was five years ago,” I said. “Like he has a reason to act so selfishly.”

Tidus tossed the water bottle to me. I took a quick swig. It didn’t stop the inopportune hiccups.

“Look, Cas, there’s a lot you don’t know about Rem.” Tidus cracked his knuckles. Nervous. Looked like he’d wanted a smoke, but Quint had stuffed his cigarettes down the garbage disposal in the heat of a fight. “He is a good guy—he really is. Deep down. I know Jules doesn’t believe it, but I wouldn’t be the man I am today without him.”

I believed him.

I wanted to believe Tidus.

But what good did it do now?

“It doesn’t matter.” I puffed a lock of hair out of my face. “Who can even remember five years ago?”

Jules raised his hand. Tidus smacked his shoulder.

“He doesn’t want to change,” I said. “He doesn’t want to make this work. He says he’s running to protect us, but he won’t say from what. So fine. I won’t make him stay. I put my life on hold for him once. I can’t do it again.”

Jules nodded to the suitcase against the wall. “So you’re leaving too?”

“What do you think I should do?”

“There’s a farm here that could use some work.”

“I’ve been working the farm, Jules. Maybe not cutting back the trees and tilling any dirt, but…” God, why did the tears have to come now? Everything was always so much easier if I didn’t talk about it. Maybe Rem had it right. “I took care of Dad day in and day out. I made his meals. I helped him shower. I gave him his medicine. I was with him when he died. Maybe I didn’t plant corn, but I held this farm together for as long as I could.” My throat tightened. “And none of you were here to help.”

Tidus looked away, but, for the first time, Jules didn’t. He took my hand, tugged me close, and kissed my forehead.

“We’re here now, Cas,” he said.

And it made it better.

And worse.

And so much harder.

Jules still gave me the option. “What will you do?”

I sucked in a reluctant breath. “Why would I stay? Dad’s gone. Every day is a struggle. No one is happy, and I’m trapped in the middle. Don’t I deserve a chance to have a life too?”

Tidus was better with a fist-to-jaw than a heart-to-heart. “That’s our fault, Sassy. We can make it better for you. Make the effort.”

“You wouldn’t just leave, would you?” Jules remained stoic, but I heard the worry. “You’re the only one who knows where Dad kept anything. Without you, I wouldn’t have found the five-grand taped under the mattress.”

Tidus scowled. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. You found five grand? Where is it?”

“I put it in the tax fund.”

“What tax fund?”

Jules lost his patience. “You like this house?”

“It’s okay.”

“You like the land?”

“I’ve seen better.”

“Well, right now it’s all you got, and if you don’t want Sawyer County to own all of it, yeah. We need a tax fund.”

Tidus without a cigarette in his mouth tended to talk more than he should. “We don’t got a working hot water heater that can handle six people in a house, but that’s just fine. We’ll freeze our dicks off while you hoard money.”

I groaned. “Tidus.”

“Sorry. Freeze our asses. Gender-fucking-neutral.”

“This is what I mean!” I meant to redo my pony tail. Nearly ripped my hair out instead. “This constant bickering. All the time. Can you blame me for wanting to leave? For needing to get away from this negativity? If this keeps up, every fruit and vegetable we grow will be just as bitter as all of you!”

“So that’s it?” Jules crossed his arms. “You’re gonna look us in the eye, bitch about Rem taking off, and then follow his example.”

“Why not?”

Jules tightened his jaw. “One word. Marius.”

Son of a bitch. I knew he’d throw that in my face. Just like Rem. Just like them all.

They assumed I’d just drop everything to take care of the family.

No fights. No protest. Not even a simple question asked in honest and good faith—Hey, Cassi, do you think you could help Marius while he recovers?

I’d done it before, so I must have wanted to do it again. I must have wanted to sacrifice and scrimp and save and put everything on hold for a family that refused to stay together.

They wouldn’t talk unless I locked them in a room. They wouldn’t work together unless they meant to destroy my relationship with the only man I’d ever loved. They wouldn’t even pray together over their injured brother, suffering in the hospital with a devastating prognosis.

Something had to change.

And it started now.

I grabbed my suitcase and tossed it at Jules.

He ducked, but the luggage bounced off his side and rattled to the ground. The tape didn’t hold. It popped open.

Empty.

“I’m not going anywhere, you jackasses.” I met both of their stunned gazes. “But I’m not taking care of Marius.”

The silence crackled. I let it pass with a single, steady breath.

“We are going to take care of Marius,” I said. “Together. Not just me, but everyone. We’re a goddamned family. We might hate each other, but for Christ’s sake, we’re not going to abandon one and other.”

Tidus didn’t hesitate. He swept me into a hug and swore.

“Thank Christ,” he said. “Now I don’t have to stalk you through Ironfield.”

Jules wasn’t good with anything emotional, but he gave me a smile. “You’re right. We should all pitch in. Take care of Marius…and take care of you.”

“I’m fine,” I lied.

“I know what you want to do.”

“Create a schedule for the showers?” I smirked. “Claim my own shelf in the pantry?”

Jules frowned. “You want to stop Rem.”

The room suddenly felt a little too tight. I hardly had room to pace, let alone bare my soul.

“I can’t stop Rem,” I said. “It’s his decision.”

“Even if it’s the wrong one?”

“I don’t want to hurt him anymore than he’s already hurting. He’s ashamed of himself, and he thinks he’s a bad influence on me. I can’t watch him destroy his life. The life we might have had together.”

“Do you love him?” Tidus asked.

“Always and forever.” A lump formed in my throat. “But telling him won’t work. He has to figure it out for himself. He needs to heal. Forgive the past. I can’t do that for him.”

Hard to be alone in a house filled with five brothers.

Hard to be sad when each of them did their best to cheer me up.

Hard to let go of everything I’d ever wanted, the love I’d dreamed about, and the future I’d deserved.

Absence might have made the heart grow fonder.

But abandonment just made it break.