I should have told him I wasn’t a Glassman. Maybe that was why he held back his affection. Maybe this was what prevented him from going there with me.
I’d almost shared the truth in that scary swamp and told him about my adoption. I’d wanted him to know I had felt pain too.
That we had more in common than he realized. I’d loved my adoptive parents, even after discovering their lost children. I’d felt their loss as though it was my own. Filled in the blanks of that story and entrusted them with how they’d handled their grief. Even as they came and went at home and gave us so little time, I’d found love for them.
Now, after Mardi Gras, all that was left of those feelings was a void. A crack so deep, it could never be mended. Not now, after I’d witnessed an attack on Cassius from that slow-moving car. My father might not have shot the weapon that almost killed Cassius, but he’d been in the car.
An owl hooted from a treetop. I’d once heard they could become vicious when protecting their young. I had glimpsed that kind of primal cruelty from my parents. Only when my mom had the chance to save me, she’d turned away. She’d given up on me. Or given me over.
But why?
More tears sprung from my eyes. Swiping them away, I willed myself to find the strength to find my way through this.
I felt him before I heard him.
Turning, I saw Cassius strolling across the lawn carrying two mugs.
“I thought I might find you out here.” He offered one to me.
Accepting the mug from him, I watched the steam spiral and leaned in to sniff the drink. “Hot chocolate?”
“That okay?”
“I’d never figured you for that kind of guy.”
“I’m full of surprises.”
“You really are.”
“I can switch it for something stronger?”
“It’s perfect.” I breathed in the aroma of the sweet cocoa.
He studied my face though was polite enough not to mention he could see I’d been crying.
I turned away, not wanting him to see me like this.
“There’s a lot to process.” His voice was soft and kind.
“Nothing you say will make me feel better. It won’t change anything.”
“I wish it was different. You deserve that, Anya.”
“It still doesn’t explain why he never came for me.” I looked at him as if he had the answer. “Though I’m glad he didn’t.”
“Need some space?”
With a gentle shake of my head, I said, “Tell me about the maze?”
He looked that way with a sentimental smile. “I had this crazy idea about building one as a kid. My parents made it happen.”
“Just like that?”
“They told me that if we had one, I’d have to take care of it. I did then, and I have since. I’ve honored that promise.” He pointed at it. “Now that is one of the best things to ever happen to me.”
I wondered if that was what held him here. “It’s just a maze.”
“It’s everything it represents.”
“A labyrinth you can get lost in?”
“So much more. Mazes go back all the way to Egypt. They were created to protect kings. In history, royalty entertained guests in them.” He gestured I was right in some way. “For me, it was always a place that could be just mine. Somewhere to be introspective. Though I didn’t realize it at the time. A place I could disappear.”
It was a part of him. Something sacred that he couldn’t abandon. Perhaps many of his cherished memories were in there.
“What do you think about in there?”
“Anything and everything. At least, I did.”
“It’s beautiful.”
“As a kid, I read about how a maze was created to study the navigational skills of insects. Bees were observed in them. They found their way intuitively.”
“How?”
“Apparently, bees see the world coming their way when they fly. They have a natural navigational instinct. It’s fascinating, really.”
Staring up, I took in the night sky.
“Humans can find their way with the stars, if they get lost, using celestial navigation.”
“Following the North Star?”
“Absolutely. And, if you familiarize yourself with a few constellations, you can find your way.” He pointed upward. “Just like the sun, stars travel from east to west. This is something my mom taught me; if you want to know which way you’re facing, look for Mintaka.” He pointed at the stars. “Can you see? There, on the right of Orion’s Belt. It rises to true east and sets close to true west.”
“Which one?”
“Orion the Hunter.” Cassius came behind me, and with his free right hand, he took mine and guided it up, pointing it toward the sky. “See?”
Three bright stars were in a short, straight row.
Feeling his warmth against my body, I sank into the comfort of his touch, my flesh tingled where he was pressed tight. Leaning back, I rested my head on his chest. His lips touched the top of my head with affection.
He’d shared this so naturally as if it was easy for him to talk about this moment in his past with me.
“To be totally sure,” he added, “look out for the brighter stars on either side of the belt stars, one is blue and the other reddish.” He wrapped his arm around my waist and hugged me.
I ran my thumb along the sun inked on his wrist. “What does this one mean?”
“Something my mom used to say: ‘Don’t forget, Cas, the sun is also a star.’”
“What does it mean?”
“There are billions of stars, but only one of them is strong enough to be the sun. She used to call me her strength.”
“That’s beautiful.”
“Still, I’ve not exactly been the son she imagined.” He inhaled sharply. “All that celestial beauty also reminds us there’s something greater out there orchestrating our lives.”
“We were always destined to meet.”
His breath was warm on my neck. “Destined to cross paths.”
“Maybe more than that.” Despite having my back to him, I felt his melancholy. “Would you want that?”
“I . . . will always protect you, Anya.”
That was a no, that he didn’t see us being anything more. Even after this closeness, we’d never move beyond what we were now.
“Cas.” I said his name with the sanctity it deserved.
“I kidnapped you. That’s hardly the foundation for a good relationship.”
He tugged the blanket tighter and wrapped his arms around me in a possessive hug.
These quiet moments with him were what I held on to. His layers were peeling back and revealing his extraordinary depths.
He nodded toward the maze. “When Stephen came for me, I ran in there to hide.”
An imaginary flash of movement before me as though I was seeing that event replay all over again—two young people disappearing within—being chased by men with guns. So vivid, so real as though I, too, was personally recalling that day in all its horror.
“You hid in the maze,” I said wistfully.
“The maze hid us.”
Which meant the maze was so much more than a sum of its parts. It was a profound representation of the way nature had protected him that day.