Page 60 of Since Always

"Yeah."

"But also, it seems like a stupid thing to base, you know, the rest of your life on."

I roll my eyes. "It's not just about that. It's complicated. It's just not the same for you and I. Your parents supported you doing whatever you wanted."

"By 'supported' you mean 'didn't give a shit what I did'?"

"Well. Okay, I'm sorry, that came out wrong. And I am not at all complaining about my parents or family. Or that I was lucky enough to grow up with everything the company gave me..."

"Stop it, Cass. This is me. I don't need the disclaimer. You can complain to me, always. I know you are grateful for your life."

"I am. But it feels like telling Chris I don't want to be a part of the company is spitting on everything I have ever been given; like it makes me ungrateful. It has never been a question for anyone in my family—we have the most incredible opportunity in the world being handed to us, Chris and I. Of course, we will take it."

"Well, that's...Ludicrous."

I chuckle. "Thanks."

"No, I'm serious. That's insane, Cass. That's saying that every person who has benefited from their parents' wealth should have to commit their lives to, what, upholding that wealth? Growing it? That's not everyone's path."

"But I'm not talking about everyone, I'm talking about me. This was always the plan."

"Plans change."

"Can we change the subject? I'm sorry I brought this up. Do you want to order pizza? I don't want to cook."

"I'll eat a slice. I have a sex scene next week, so I'm being pretty careful about what I eat. But I have to remind you that you did bring it up. You didn't have to say anything to me about this."

"Well, you're my best friend. I say everything to you."

"Clearly not, because you've been holding this in. But you are telling me now. Why?"

"I don't know."

"I think it's a good start. But I think you should talk to Chris about it. Or at least your mom. You don't have to commit to anything; it's not like you're going to them saying, 'Screw the biz, I don't care what you guys say,'. Just tell them how you're feeling."

"Yeah, maybe. I don't know, I think I'm just in a mood. I just need to get back on track from everything."

"Can I say something that's—I don't know—heavy, I guess? Something that might make you sad?"

I sigh, letting my head fall back onto the couch. "Oh, why not?"

"It's been hard to be your friend the past few years. And I don't mean that how it sounds...I'm always grateful to be your friend, but just—it's been hard to not be able to make things better for you. You lost so much when you lost your dad. But recently, it has finally felt like I had some of you back — not all of you, but some of you. But then this thing with Owen happened, and now it seems like you've kinda lost him too. Or, at least, the version of him you've always dreamed of. I just don't want you to lose anything else. Especially if there is no reason for you to do that.”

CHAPTER 20

Owen

The next month goes by with no direct run-ins alone with Mark Reynolds, but finally, it happens. I am alone in the tunnels that run beneath the Capitol building. We have several votes for the day, and I am heading back to my hideaway in the Capitol basement. The hideaways are small rooms that feature some simple furniture and act as a place for us to catch our breath or hold meetings when there's not enough time to get back to our offices between votes. They are a poorly kept Congressional secret. Every member of Congress has one, somewhere. The more senior members have nicer, larger, and windowed rooms in secret hallways above ground.

Unfortunately, though, Mark and I are newer members of the Senate, so they put both way down here; right around the corner from one another.

"Hey, Owen," he says as we nearly collide. He is smiling and seems more cordial than I have seen him in a long time. I feel like I am looking at a kid who knows they are about to break the rules. "I've been wanting to chat with you. You have a minute?"

I know this will not be good news, but I can't help myself. I nod.

"Drink?" He asks, as I follow him into a room that looks similar to my own.

"No, I'm good. Thanks." I take a seat in a large leather chair across from him. "So, to what do I owe the honor?" I allow a bit of the sarcasm to drip through.

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