Penelope

I wake before Cassian.

He's sprawled across the bed, our legs tangled beneath the rumpled covers. His soft snores fill the hotel room. My gaze flicks to his face, which is streaked with golden rays of sunshine streaming through the half-open blinds. I want to stare at him. I want to soak up this image and never forget it.

But I have bigger things to worry about.

Unlike last night, I feel refreshed and ready to tackle whatever shit life throws. My mind is clear and my body is well-rested. I need to see how Patrick is doing. 

Careful not to wake Cassian, I climb out of bed and dress in my clothes from last night. Next, I step into the bathroom and perform my typical morning routine. Thank God the hotel has complimentary toothbrushes and toothpaste, or else I don't know what I'd do. I can't stand not brushing my teeth in the morning.

My hair is a hopeless mess of knots, so I tie it up into a messy bun. Then I exit the bathroom and gather my purse. Patrick's probably up by now. Whether it's twin telepathy or the time we've spent together, I have a feeling he's downstairs at the breakfast buffet. He loves coffee. Guaranteed that's what he's drinking.

Using the pen and pad of paper on the nightstand, I write a quick note to Cassian. I don't want him waking up and thinking I've flown the coop.

With my purse slung over my shoulder, I exit the hotel room and saunter down the carpet hallway. The elevator is at the end of the hallway, surrounded by tall, green plants. Their pots are a mustard yellow, clashing with the strange, royal-blue patterned carpet. I shake my head. Carpet in a hotel has never made sense to me. Nor has the messy collage of colours some hold. 

A ding echoes through the hallway as the elevator doors open. It's empty, so I step in and tap the button for the third floor, where the buffet is located. During the elevator ride, all I can think about is Patrick and the blow-up back in West Kelowna. I don't know what else I can say to him. My family isn't broken like his, and as much as I want to fix it for him, I know I can't. He needs to find the strength within himself to claw his way back up. All I can do is support Patrick while he tries to find the path.

The elevator doors open at the third floor, and I'm welcomed by the scent of fresh coffee. I walk down the short hallway, taking my spot in line. As I'm waiting in the slow-moving line, I survey the area. Families are alive and happy. Couples stare out the window, looking down upon Vancouver's morning rush, their hands intertwined. I see a group of teenagers occupying the seating area. Most of them are on their phones, scrolling through social media feeds.

A small smile paints my lips. It's amazing how different lives and experiences are. This world is something special, and I think we don't always see it. We don't see diversity and the importance it holds. We don't appreciate sunsets and erect buildings. The uniqueness of every life wandering the planet. 

At the front of the line, I pay the entry fee. Once inside, I scour the area for Patrick. His head of curly blond hair is a dead giveaway. He's sitting at a table in the far corner, staring into his steaming cup of coffee. There are still dark circles under his eyes. He looks better than he did last night, though. I think a good sleep was what we all needed.

Winding my way through the tables, I walk over to Patrick. "Hey," I say.

He glances up, shooting me a weak smile. "Hey, Penelope."

I gesture to the chair. "Mind if I sit?"

He shakes his head, his curls falling in his face. "Not at all."

As I'm pulling the chair out, Patrick sighs. I sit down, waiting for him to continue. That sigh wasn't just a sigh. It was a conversation starter. While I'm waiting, a server comes over and pours me a cup of coffee. Without hesitation, I take a sip. A caffeine kick is exactly what I need after last night.

"Thanks for everything, Penelope," he says.

"How are you holding up?" I ask.

"Honestly?" he asks. "Better than I thought. Now that the shock has worn off, I'm thinking clearer. It still hurts, knowing my family lied to me, but I... I think I'll be okay." He glances down at his coffee, expelling a deep breath. "It sucks, though. At least your family told you the truth. Mom and Doug built my life on lies. Ophelia... my cousin... She even knew. I feel like such a fool."

I reach out and squeeze Patrick's hand. "You are not a fool, Patrick. Don't think that. It's not your fault they fabricated your household's foundation. That doesn't change who you are as a person. What you do from here is based on your decisions. If you don't want the last name Collins, then change it. Take Montgomery if you want to." A small smile spread across my lips. "I'd be happy if you did. My parents will adopt you, too. I'm sure of it."

Patrick squeezes my hand and takes a sip of his coffee. The smile is genuine, erasing any hint of sadness from his boyish face. It lightens the mood a little. 

"Whatever you need," I continue. "I'm here for you. You know that, right? Forever. Whatever happens, you can depend on me. You're my brother, Patrick. I love you."

A happy-yet-pained emotion crosses his face. They contradict each other. This is the first time Patrick's had a sibling tell him they love him. It's a big moment.

"I love you, too, Penelope," he says. "Running into you is the best thing that's happened to me. After years of searching..." He trails off, his eyes glossy.

My throat closes as tears rise. After everything that's happened, I'm glad Patrick and I have found each other. "I'm happy, too," I choke. "I'm sorry I didn't stay behind. But it was... rough. When Ophelia told me about Doug... I knew I had to tell you. Saying I didn't want to sounds shallow, I know. Seeing you upset thanks to my words would've broken my heart."

"Penelope," he says. "Don't apologize. You're part of this. I can understand why you needed to leave. Besides, Cassian was..." He sniffles, wiping his nose. "It's easy to understand why Jake leaned so heavily on him after his parents died. Cassian is a stone; nothing fazes that man. He'll stand beside you no matter what."

My heart squeezes. Cassian is special. Although he can be daft, he's loyal to a fault. I've never met another man like that. Wherever our relationship goes, I hope it includes the term "forever."

"He will," I sigh in happiness.

We lapse into silence for a moment, both of us trying to regain control of our emotions. I stare off at the line to the buffet, my stomach growling. After all the shit that went down, we deserve some waffles. The kind that is piled with sprinkles, strawberries, whipped cream, and syrup.

"What do you say we grab some food?" I ask, gesturing to the buffet. My stomach growls again. "I think we deserve something special. Like waffles."

Patrick shoots a lopsided grin at me as he pushes out of his chair. "I'll grab food." He gestures over my shoulder. "But only because I don't want to experience the make-out session."

His words startle me, so I follow his gesture. Across the dining room, I see Cassian. He's searching the room for us. When his eyes meet mine, he smiles and waves. I wave back, watching as he weaves through the tables.

"I'll grab you food," Patrick says. "Any requests?"

I turn back to him, taking in his unruly curly hair and round face. The same colour eyes we share. "Waffles, please. Loaded with... with whatever's available."

"Sounds good," he replies. "Be back soon."

As soon as Patrick has left, I feel Cassian's arms envelope me from behind, and he presses a kiss to my cheek. "Morning," he says. His breath is hot and smells of peppermint toothpaste.

I rest my palm against his cheek, feeling the scratch of his stubble against my skin. "Morning. I thought you'd still be asleep."

He runs his nose along my jawbone, stopping just below my ear. "The bed was cold."

Heat creeps into my cheeks. I'm still staring ahead at Patrick. He's standing in line, waiting for access to the waffle bar. My heart aches for him. These next few months will be difficult for him. I hope he takes my words seriously. What happens next is his decision. The bonds have been broken; his mom and Doug no longer control his life. "That's what happens when someone leaves the bed. The sheets cool down."

Cassian chuckles, giving my shoulder a squeeze. "You know everything's going to work out, right?" he murmurs.

I stare after Patrick as he fills a plate with waffles, drenching them in bourbon peaches, maple syrup, and whipped cream.

Cassian rubs the knots in my back. "I know," I sigh. "It's just hard to see the road ahead. Patrick's been through a lot. But it won't last forever. Time will go on. Pain will heal and become a memory."

He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. "Will we last forever?"

Will we?

That's a question I can't answer. The truth about forever is it's impossible to know. Life is full of intertwined pathways, of twists and turns. There are trials and events you can't control. But it's also full of magic. There is love and life and surprises. Happiness. 

"I don't know," I admit. "But I hope so."

He smiles, pressing a kiss to my cheek. "Hope is strong, Pen. Remember that. For what it's worth, I hope we're forever, too. Just like I hope Patrick doesn't suffer from the fallout forever. He doesn't deserve this."

Leaning back into Cassian, I inhale his musky cologne. There is comfort in his arms, despite the insecure future ahead. All I can do is hold on to his words. Hope is powerful. Strong. Hope lit the pathway to Patrick. I held onto hope with Cassian.

All we can do is hope.