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I’ve only known this new, adult Casey for a few days. It’s impossible to feel what I think I feel, right? But then, I’ve known him my whole life. There are very few memories from my childhood that don’t include Casey. And what he said…that he’s loved me since the seventh grade…
I get that. Even when we were being teased by people for being ‘Carley and Casey,’ I still felt it. I pushed it down and ignored it. And Firework Night broke it completely. But it’s back. And now lying with him wrapped around me, I can’t imagine being anywhere else. And his arguments about Chicago make more sense than I want to think about.
What about my fear? Of being stuck in Elgin permanently. But the thing that I know is that choosing to stay in a place is different from being trapped there. Elgin wouldn’t have to be home forever. Maybe Casey and I would move somewhere else if we got tired of this small town. We could travel, and I could show him my favorite places in Chicago. Those museums and shows that he talked about.
Casey is completely wrapped around me, and I love it. I love lying with his heat surrounding me and the fact I’m so comfortable and relaxed. I love knowing that he likes holding me, and he isn’t thinking about when he’ll have an opportunity to escape.
My stomach drops deliciously when he starts singing, that same song that I sang earlier today in the car. But the lyrics are different. This time, all the words are about me, and I can’t fight the butterflies. Casey is a good man. That can’t be denied.
My heart thumps in my chest. What the hell am I doing?
Casey’s stomach growls loudly, and we both laugh. “Seems my body doesn’t like my performance.”
“Or your body realizes that between hauling wood and two rounds of sex, that it’s time to fucking eat.” I’m hungry too.
I gather some of my clothes, my shirt and panties and bra, and put them on before I turn on the stove again. I don’t need burns from the oil spitting all over me. Casey pulls on his jeans, and the sight of him and nothing but them is fucking mouthwatering. It’s almost enough to make me forget about the food again.
Almost.
“Get your guitar,” I say. “Sing for your supper.”
He chuckles. “Yes, ma’am.”
The calming sound of his guitar and voice fill the kitchen as I cook, and I’m trying very hard to ignore the domestic, comfortable feeling of it. I can’t afford to dwell on it for too long.
Pounding on the door makes me jump, and my stomach plummets to my toes. I know exactly who that is, having heard that same pounding on my bedroom door as a kid. Fuck.
Casey is already walking toward the door. “Put a shirt on,” I whisper desperately. The last thing I need is for my mother to figure out that we just had sex. Snatching my jeans off the floor, I wiggle into them faster than I ever have in my life, grateful that I didn’t decide to cook completely naked.
He’s grabbed a shirt, and I hear him answer the door with a charming word. Followed by two sets of harsh footsteps. My mother finds me in the kitchen, followed closely by Jessica.
She holds up my phone, which I left on purpose because I didn’t want incessant text messages about when I would be back. “Where have you been? You need to keep your phone on you. You scared us to death. We thought you were dead in a ditch or…God knows where.”
I raise an eyebrow and look between the two of them. “Clearly, you knew exactly where I was.”
Jessica looks at me with anger in her eyes. “You missed dinner.”
Gesturing to the stove and the steaming pots and pans, I say, “I’m making dinner with Casey. I’m sure he’ll let me have a few bites so I don’t starve.”
“More than a few,” he says from behind them, smiling. His hands are in his pockets, and I can tell he’s trying to diffuse the tension. But it doesn’t work.
“Casey is a grown man and can cook for himself. You need to come home right now,” Mom says. “You need to talk to your fiancé and get your life back on track. Tyler has called you and texted you all day. When you didn’t answer, he called us and talked to the family. He said he made a huge mistake.”
I frown. That doesn’t sound like Tyler. “He called you? And apologized?”
“He was so sad, Carley,” Jessica says. “He said he was really, really sorry and that he misses you. That he needs you, wants you, and is planning to make it up to you. Mentioned something about a car that you’d loved that would look good on the Chicago streets?”
