It is three more restless nights before I see Ashley. I don't see Cas in that time. I don't mind, though, because I'm not really sure what I'm going to do there. Talking to Jack has only left me more confused. I ask Charles to come in early Thursday to prep, and then I head to the hospital, too early by all means.

     When Ashley arrives, I'm seated on the couch in her waiting area, rubbing my hands anxiously. She halts for a second as she looks me over. I stand quickly, not missing the heavy sigh she gives before leading the way to her office.

     "Dresden," she says solemnly.

     "I know," I respond, uneasy.

     "So then I don't need to say it? Thursdays?"

     I nod. "That's fine."

     She's at her desk, disregarding most of her belongings to look at me levelly. Her expression is heavier than weary. More concern than I can comfortably handle.

     "Tell me what happened," she says, so I do.

     When I finish, she's rubbing the bridge of her nose, not making a sound, though her lips are puckered. "You two," she says finally. "You two are just determined to ruin each other, I guess?"

     "I don't think that's fair," I respond.

     "The bruise on your face would beg to differ."

     "Cas is..." I frown. "He's angry and he has a right to be. I'm trying to field that. I'm trying to get him to work through that."

     "That's not your job, Dresden," Ashley says simply. "You're not a — a punching bag. I get that you feel like you did a terrible thing and you want forgiveness but you're not going to get that by compromising yourself. You remember what I said all those years ago? Pain is not penance."

     I want to roll my eyes. I'd heard it plenty of times but always about Weston, never about Cas. Although, I remember saying something similar to him. "I know that," I say finally.

     "Do you? Because you're on a path right now that tells me you don't."

     "I know and I'm sorry," I say and I mean it. "But I have to try. Cas almost failed out of PA school. He's been struggling and he needs — he needs help. He's pushing everyone away but he can't push me away. I can take all the punches he throws."

     "So your plan is to what? Save Cas?"

     I blanch, recognizing where Ashley's going by the tone of her voice. "It's not like that."

     "I think it's exactly like that. Cas is manipulating you. And you're letting him because you feel beholden to him because you broke up with him? Maybe you didn't do it very nicely or very honestly but that's what you did ultimately. You ended a relationship. And yes, it sucks and yes, it hurts. I don't take those things away from Cas. But you're not obligated to make things right five years after a breakup."

     "You're right," I say finally. "I'm not. But I want to."

     "Even if it's at the expense of your own well being?"

     "Maybe it doesn't have to be," I say. "I'm just having some trouble sleeping. That's all. Otherwise, I feel fine. I just need to...orient myself with this new reality."

     "I've heard these lines before from you, so I know you know they won't work."

     "Maybe I want this," I say after some thought. It's hard to admit but it needs to be said. "Maybe I want to be with Cas. Even if I can only have him in this way."

     Ashley nods vigorously. "It's evident to me that neither of you have moved on. If that's the case, meet with him and have that discussion. Work things out with him verbally, Dresden. Take sex off the table until you do."

    "We aren't there yet," I say. "We aren't in a place where we can have a productive conversation. Trying to is just going to cause more problems."

     "Dresden," she says finally. "You're making a lot of excuses here. Which makes me think you want it like this because you want Cas to hurt you."

     A flash of heat strikes the front of my chest. I hold my hands up. "I'll keep it strictly professional with him."

     "I'm not saying you need to keep it professional. That's clearly not an option. You need to have boundaries. Physical ones, in particular. He shouldn't be punching you and you shouldn't be encouraging him to do so."

      "Okay," I say. That's all I say, because I've learned the good lies offer very little words.

      Ashley nods but she looks weary like she doesn't so believe me. "In the mean time, I'm going to prescribe you some sleeping pills. Super mild stuff. You shouldn't have any issue with them. How are things going with Weston's After Hours? Opening night's next week, isn't it? Ibrahim is very excited. He never shuts up about last years Thanksgiving. Says your cooking is the best food he's ever eaten in his entire life. High praise."

     When I get back to Weston's, I'm surprised to find Cas inside buying a coffee from Tasha. He's dressed casually, wearing light jeans and converses, looking like the younger version of himself. When I get up to the counter, Tasha grins at me and says, "That was longer than usual."

     It wasn't actually. At least not my session with Ashley. We never run over our designated fifty minutes. But I took a long walk after to clear my head. My head which is fogged with the scent of Cas, the cologne he's wearing, that smells light and clean.

     Cas turns towards me. He's relaxed, forcibly so, his shoulders pushed back in a creamy white sweater. He looks good. Feels purposeful. "I'm sure he and Ashley had a lot to discuss today."

     Tasha goes, "Ashley?"

     "His therapist," Cas responds easily.

     "Cas," I warn and I don't even know what I'm asking of him. There was a time where I was embarrassed and ashamed to admit I saw a psychiatrist but now not so much. Still, I try to keep my private life private when it comes to my employees. No matter how adamant Tasha is about hearing my whole life's story.

     Tasha glances between us, motioning with a finger. "You two know each other?" she asks, confused.

     Cas gives her this smile that is all charm. A far cry from the sour expression he's been walking around with for the last three weeks. I'm tense all over, can feel my shoulders hunched beside my ears.

     "I used to work here, actually. The original barista," he says.

     I am tempted to make a comment about history, but maybe the rules only apply to me. Anyway, I'm curious to see where Cas is going with this.

     Tasha's grinning big. This is more information about my life and Weston's than I've ever given her. "The original? You mean, you were the first to work here with Dresden?"

     Cas nods. "I actually started working for Dresden before Weston's had even officially opened. We put that sign up together, isn't that right, Gibson?"

     I'm flummoxed, gaping at Cas, unable to respond. Where is he going with this?

     "In fact," Cas says, voice lilting. "I coined that cupcake." He points to Falling For You, which is no longer just a seasonal flavor but one of the three specials we serve a limited number of daily.

     "The flavor. Not the name," Cas is saying. "That was Dresden. Funny thing about falling leaves is they're actually dead, huh. Not all that picturesque when you think about it."

     My throat is tight but I'm otherwise the picture of control, focusing on my breath and keeping the expression on my face stoic. Tasha's eyes dart my way, eyebrows curled in confusion.

     Cas leans towards her, says in a wicked tone, "You don't have to worry about him screwing you, though. He only goes for guys. Isn't that—."

     "Alright, enough, Cas," I snap grabbing his arm and tugging him away from the counter. "You can't just come in here and say stuff like that. Whatever you want to say to me, fine, but not up here in front of my staff and customers."

     "Why? Afraid of ruining your image before you can kick off your Weston's After Hours?"

     I'm halted for a second. His expression gives nothing away. I don't know what Weston's After Hours has to do with anything.

     "If you have something to say about it, then just say it," I respond simply.

     Cas shrugs. "I have nothing to say. I mean I guess other than congrats? Right, those are in order. Seems like things have been going great for you, great for Weston's. So glad the last five years have offered you so much success."

     His voice is acrid and I'm more concerned with deescalating the situation than trying to figure out what is exactly bothering him about the progress I've made with Weston's. I say calmly, "Opening night is the first Saturday of October. You and Olivia obviously are invited."

     "Yeah, thanks, no thanks," he says harshly.

     I nod, expecting as much. "Well, just know the offer stands." I walk away before Cas can say anything else, confused as ever. Stupid of me to think that conversation was going to go any other way than the way it went. He still hates me. Sex isn't going to fix that. Though I certainly wish it could.