Bryan has no fucking clue what I’m doing. He thinks I’m throwing everything away because of Cass, but that’s not it. He doesn’t understand. None of them do. Cass isn’t the problem. She’s my strength to do it—to walk away from billions of dollars, the cars, the mansion—everything.

As I lay on the floor next to her bed, I listen to the slow sound of her breathing, wondering if she’s asleep. The apartment she and Beth share is abysmal. Below street level, with musty old carpet covering concrete, this space was designed to shelter stuff, not people. The ceilings are low, and there are no windows. The walls are the color of despair, and there’s not much that makes this room Cassie’s. No pictures, no frames of smiling faces, and nothing personal. Lingerie fills the tiny dresser, her pink corset set on top, with stockings hanging out of a drawer that won’t close.

This room was meant to house the washer and dryer. The connections are taped off at the wall opposite me. I stare at the pipes and wonder how she lives like this. At the same time, she seems like she’s surviving which is more than I’ve been doing. I’ve been buying time while slowly dying, waiting to be estranged from the woman who bore me. She thinks since she gave me life she can take it away. I wouldn’t put it past her, but I need to break away anyway. My family is slowly killing me. One day I’ll look in the mirror and the man I wanted to be will be too far gone to pull back from the abyss of shit I’ve stumbled into.

Cassie sighs softly and rolls over on the creaky bed. Her roommate seems to care sincerely about her. Beth didn’t mind that I was here. Actually, a night off seemed to make her think more highly of me. Not many people do these days. By sunrise, I’ll be lucky if my mother doesn’t put a hit on me. Ferro family members are not disowned—they're annihilated, destroyed from within.

Sean will be the first in line when he finds out what I did. Bryan was pissed, but he has his own shit going on. Besides, when that guy gets high, everything is overly important to him. I don’t know how many pills he popped tonight, but he was up there with the kites.

I never did much with drugs. I prefer being in control of myself. Since I lost Cass, that’s what I strive for—holding my shit together. I’m not letting anyone sway me. That’s part of the reason I asked her if I could crash here. I want them to know I’m out of reach. The only question is how far will Mom go this time? I’m hoping I did enough to get shoved out, face-first, but not enough to get snuffed out.

Dad won’t do shit if Mom decides one way or the other. He’s too busy picking which pussy to feign interest in next. I don’t want to think about him, or any of the mistresses. I don’t want to remember what happened or what I did after that. Fucking my dad’s lovers was twisted, but that’s not why I did it. It was her. It all leads back to that point. I hate thinking about it. When the memories pop into my mind, I torch them with a blast of mental napalm, but nothing kills those fuckers. They spring back, ever vibrant, glowing—forcing me to relive it again and again.

I roll onto my side and face the metal frame of Cassie’s bed. There’s no fancy skirt on it, no storage boxes underneath. It’s bare bones like the rest of her room—like the rest of her life. She said her husband dragged her back home once before. It’s probably better not to own anything. Possessions make it difficult to disappear. With this amount of stuff, she could toss a change of clothes into a bag and become a ghost in less than five minutes.

The pit of my stomach goes into a freefall. Soft fingers sweep across my cheek and then gently drift away. I glance up and realize Cassie’s head is resting on her pillow, which she’s pulled near the edge of the worn out mattress. The springs sag in the middle. I can hear a corresponding squeak for every move she makes.

“Hey, Cass.”

“Can’t sleep?” Her voice sounds sluggish, and her eyelids are only half open. She hangs her arm off the bed and sweeps her fingers against my cheek again.

I grab hold of her for a moment, kissing the back of her hand to assure her I'm fine. “I’m okay. Go back to sleep.”

She pats the bed and scoots back toward the wall. It’s a twin mattress, and she didn’t offer me that spot when she was awake. And now that I’m a little bit sleepy, and she’s only half awake, I don’t trust myself to use that place to rest.

“Come up here. I know you’re tired, and the floor blows. Stop being a prude.” She pats her hand firmly on the bed again, then hangs her face over the edge. “Don’t make me come down there,” Cassie says, yawning and blinking at me.

“I better not.”

“We’re both adults, Jon. I won't dry-hump your leg in the middle of the night.”

“It is the middle of the night.”

“Is that a request?”

I laugh lightly, considering it. Can I keep my dick to myself? Her scent is going to fill my head which will make it insanely hard in every aspect of the word. Before I have time to refuse, she grabs my wrist and pulls.

“Jonathan Ferro, come here.” There’s something about the way she says it that makes me move. I’m on my knees looking into her sleepy face and the tangle of dark hair around her cheeks. She sighs contently. “I know you need a friend. So do I. I promise I won’t mess it up and neither will you.”

“Tell me one friend you’ve slept with and I’ll climb in next to you right now.” She watches me and rests her hand on my face, her fingertips lightly touching my cheek.

“Trust yourself.” She blinks slowly, sleepily.

“Do you trust me? I mean really trust that I won’t do anything?”

“I trust you with my life, my heart, and my soul.” She pats the bed again. “I don’t want to sleep alone, and I’m betting you don’t either.”

I rise to slip into bed next to her, my heart thumping rapidly as all my blood heads to my boxers. I can’t do this without wanting to nail her. No, it’s more than that. I want to press my lips to her body, all of it. I want to learn every curve, taste every inch of her pale flesh. How am I supposed to hold her and not feel anything? She’s going to notice. There’s no way not to—the bed is too small.

“Cass, this isn’t a good idea.”

I don’t notice until then, but there’s a light sheen on her face, and it’s not from sweat—it’s from tears. She’s been crying, lying up here alone. At that moment, the world shifts, and I don’t care about me anymore. I pull her to me, pressing her face against my chest and holding her close.

With Cassie clinging to my chest and me squeezing her tight, time stops. I keep one arm wrapped tightly around her waist, firm and strong, while the other strokes her hair. I kiss her forehead a few times as I say things that are more sounds than real words. I don’t ask her why she’s weeping. I don’t tell her not to cry. The truth is there’s always something to mourn, but most of us don’t take the time to do it. This will help her in the long run, so I let her sob softly on my chest until she falls asleep in my arms.

At one point she would have said this kind of intimacy was forbidden, reserved only for soulmates joined in marriage, and now that I’m here with her like this, I finally understand. Her slight form, breasts pressed against my stomach, her thigh draped over my leg, and the rhythmic sound of her breathing is a kind of physical closeness I’ve known before—it’s the rest that’s foreign. It’s the way she doesn’t care about the holes in her t-shirt, or that I can see the curve of her ass peeking out from beneath the hem. It’s the way her hair is a mess, and she doesn’t fuss with it or worry about the lack of makeup on her face. It’s the way she doesn't hide her tears or her sorrow. It’s the way she doesn't invent some story about being cold when I feel her nipples tighten against my chest. She doesn’t hide anything from me. Cass is just there, being Cass, exposed. I see all of her because she lets me, because she invited me up here.

I close my eyes and breathe her in, committing every second of it to memory, knowing it’ll never happen again. Tonight is a one-time thing. Cassie doesn’t drop her guard even with friends, so this is rare. Even I know that. Tonight she came to me in the pink room ready to do anything I wanted. I can’t reconcile the two women living inside of her. One is strong and daring, while the other is sweet and tender.

I kiss the top of her head and whisper, “I love you, Cass.”