I'm heading into the kitchen Friday morning when Dolores breezes past, wearing the kind of guilty expression you could never miss. I half suspect it's a Cas thing, but she said she wasn't getting involved and I believe her. I wonder, then, if she's even seen him. I stop. "What did you do?"

     Her tone is too innocent. "What do you mean?"

     "Dolores," I warn. But before I can say anything else, my phone is ringing.

     "You should get that," she says.

     It's Amelia.

     I take the call as I walk into the kitchen. "Now tell me why," Amelia says before I've even given a greeting. "I have to hear from dear old mother three weeks after the fact that Cas has returned."

     "Because it's not a thing," I respond quickly.

     "Like hell it isn't a thing," Amelia barks back. "Mom says you're not sleeping."

     "Why is everyone so concerned with my sleep patterns," I respond, disgruntled.

     "Because that's how it started last time..."

     "This isn't that," I say heatedly. "Anyway. I was prescribed sleeping pills."

     Amelia makes a sound. "It's that bad?"

    "It's not. It's just cautionary. Really, this is not a problem."

     "So have you talked to him?"

     "Who?"

     "Cas, who else? Come on. Don't make this difficult now. I don't want to have to come over there. You'll be paying my travel fees."

     "It costs you like ten bucks to commute home."

     "Okay, but I'm a starving artist."

     "Who's choice was that?"

     "The best art is starved," Amelia says her tone stuffy. "You didn't answer my question. Which means you have."

     "Yes, I've talked to him," I say.

     "And? I'm serious, D. If you don't start giving me deets I will uber there under your account. It will cost you a whopping hundred bucks in Friday rush hour."

     I can't help but smile. "He's angry. I'm working on it."

     "What does that even mean? Working on what?"

     "I don't know, getting him to stop being angry?"

     "Why is that your responsibility?"

     "Because I'm the reason he's angry." I add, "Please don't give me a speech about me being self sacrificing or a glutton for punishment or something. I've heard it from quite literally everyone at this point."

     She doesn't make that comment. Instead she asks, "Do you still have feelings for him?"

     I go still, wondering if you ever really stop having feelings for people or if you just learn to quiet them? Maybe you just learn to let them go but you never stop carrying the actual feelings themselves.

     "Dres," she groans before I've even responded. "You told me you were moving on!"

     "When was that?" I ask.

     "Fourth of July."

     "We were drunk."

     "Exactly."

     "I was just telling you what you wanted to hear. Mostly to shut you up."

     I can hear her eyes roll. "Okay, and what about him? Does he have feelings for you?"

     I shake my head. "Listen, it's complicated. But I'm fine and I'm going to fix things. So don't worry."

     "What does that even mean?" she exclaims.

     "It means I've gotta' go, I need to get to work. I'll see you in two weeks."

     "You can bet your ass you'll see me in two weeks."

     I rub at my temple, suddenly thankful Cas won't be attending the opening night of Weston's After Hours, even if some quiet part of me wants him there.

     Even though Ashley prescribed me sleeping pills, I head to the gym Saturday night to finish off my day. I haven't seen Cas since we talked Thursday morning but even without his obvious presence and scathing comments, I'm on edge, anxious about everything that has happened between us already and of what's to come. The truth feels like a kernel stuck on the back of my tongue. As much as I want to dislodge it, get everything out in the open, I know that it'll come out on its own, in its own time.

     On a good day, I'm not opposed to coming to the gym this late. It's empty, so I get free rein of all the equipment. Jack and I will likely hit legs tomorrow, so I focus on back and biceps. I work out till I can't manage anymore reps before jumping on the treadmill to finish off with some cardio. Once my knees start locking up, I know it's time to call it quits for the night.

     I wipe down my equipment before heading towards the locker room. I always go into the sauna or hot tub, depending on how I feel when I'm done. As I pass by the doors to the pool, I'm halted by the one lone swimmer. I pause, stepping up to the glass to look. They're in one of the lap lanes, bobbing in and out of sight as they butterfly their way from one end to the other. They tread water like Moses parting the sea. It's something magical.

     It's how I know it's Cas.

     I can't see anything but the top of his head, hair loose and fanning out in the water. He's still fast, swimming like he's chasing something.

     It does something to me that he still swims, that he's swimming here, mere feet away from where I was working out. Who knows how long we'd both been here together, unaware of the other's presence.

     I turn away, heading into the locker room to slip off my shoes and sweaty clothes. I deposit them into my locker before I grab a towel, wrapping it around myself as I head for the sauna. It's off of the pool, so there's no avoiding Cas. He's still in the water, though. I keep my head down, deciding I won't bother him as I walk swiftly towards the sauna doors. I haven't made it a few feet past when I get hit in the legs with water.

     "Hey stranger."

     I halt, turning around slowly to look at Cas. He's up against the ledge of the pool, not smiling but looking more at ease than he has since he returned. I take a step towards him, hesitant because the friendly tone he's just used has me confused and on guard.

     "Since when do you come here?" I ask keeping my tone just as light.

     I'm still trying to figure out the rules here, what I can ask, what I can't, what information I'm privy to, where I stand with him. Okay, so I've maybe figured out the last one.

     "Just got a membership," he says folding his arms and resting his chin there. "Only gym in the area with an olympic pool."

    "So you're still swimming then," I muse more than anything.

     Cas's expression is wry. "Keeps me mostly sane."

     I'm tempted, then, to ask him to swim. I could sit on the bench and watch him as he freestyles. It could be like back then. For a moment, we could just pretend. This isn't that, though, and Cas isn't in the business of giving me anything I actually want.

     "So a little late night lift sesh?" he asks when the silence has gone on too long. I want to wonder why he's pushing the conversation but decide its not worth over-thinking. He's making conversation. This is a good thing.

     I nod. "Yeah, I like coming at this time. There's no one here. It's late for you, though, no?"

     "It is but my sleep schedules all fucked up. I've got overnights some days, early mornings others. I'm a mess."

     I hesitate before asking, "Do you like it?"

     His expression is wistful. I want him to smile, but he doesn't. "I do," he says and it doesn't sound like he's trying to convince me. He means it. "I really, really do."

     That hurts more than I expect it to; he's giving me something without even realizing it. Like maybe everything I did, and didn't do, was all worth it for this, right here, him with a career that makes him happy. Even if I no longer make him happy.

     I'm choked up, can feel my breath locked in my throat. I manage to say, "Well, I'll let you get back to it." I turn away, finishing my path to the sauna. As I'm opening the door, I hear the rustle of water and then wet feet.

     "I'll join you," Cas says and he's right behind me. I try not to bristle.

     I sit down on the middle bench, lifting my feet to the lower bench so my legs are bent. Cas sits beside me, close enough that I feel the wetness of his swim trucks against my arm. A familiar feeling of dread and excitement washes over me. I knew I'd been dishonest when I spoke with Ashley, knew it even as I was telling her I'd maintain boundaries with Cas that I wouldn't.

     This is my gym, though. A place I frequent, have been coming to for years, and prefer over other facilities I've been to. I don't want to risk not being allowed back here.

     Cas's knee bumps mine. I flinch but otherwise, don't move. "Cas," I warn quietly, not looking at him.

     "Oooh," he whispers back with a shake of his shoulders like he just caught a chill. "Using your I-mean-business voice on me." His hand is on my knee and he presses against my side, moving his face inches from mine. "I haven't even done anything yet."

     "Yet?" I repeat avoiding his gaze. I will give in if I look at him.

     I will give in if I don't.

     Cas leans forward more and I think he's going to kiss me but he doesn't, sliding down onto the bench below us as he runs a hand along the inside of my thigh. He pushes my leg out of the way so he's sitting between them.

     "Cas, no," I say in what may be the most futile attempt to stop him. He looks up at me like he knows just how lame an attempt it was. I try again. "Anybody can walk in." This, at least, is a fact-based argument.

     "Good," Cas says as he pushes one flap of the towel out of the way.

     I jump closing my legs as much as I can with him between them. Cas rolls his eyes of all things. As if I'm the one who's being absurd right now. "I'm kidding," he says. "No one's even here. Relax. If this is any indication, it won't even take that long."

     He stares at my lap, pointedly. I flush.

     "I'm sweaty," I say quickly. Sounds less like a deterrent and more like a warning.

     "Just the way I like my men," he responds and it's quiet enough that I can pretend I don't even hear him. That there's no men. That there's nobody besides me and Cas. At least for this moment.