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The moment we’re inside my room, a jumble of words spill out, none of them what I planned. “You can’t go. You’re not - this isn’t - you can’t do this. Don’t do this. After what you told me? After - I mean, you can’t even - no. No, you are not going, Casey. No.”
He arches an eyebrow at me, surprisingly confident. “You are most certainly not the boss of me, Jake. You don’t get to say no.”
“I’m not saying. I’m fucking begging.” I step toward him, but he steps back and crosses his arms over his chest. It feels like an entire chasm opens up between us, threatening to swallow me whole. It sucks the oxygen from my lungs, panic replacing it. “Casey, please. I don’t know what happened. I don’t know why all of a sudden you started avoiding me again and not letting me sleep in your room. I don’t know why you haven’t been to the pool or why you’ve avoided meals or why I never find you alone anymore. I don’t know what I did to push you away. But please. Please let me fix it, little one.”
“Don’t call me that,” he mutters, his eyes squeezing shut. “Please.”
The request throws me off completely. “I thought you liked it...”
“Not anymore.” He turns his back to me. I’d be happy that he trusts me enough to do that if my heart wasn’t on the verge of fucking breaking. “I’m going. I want to go, Jake.”
“You just told me a few nights ago that you’re suicidal.”
“And I also promised to tell you before I did anything about it. I’ll keep that promise.”
“But-” I rub at the back of my neck, searching desperately for the right thing to say to get him to stay. “Casey, please. You’re not ready.”
He turns back to look at me, eyes sharp and angry. “You don’t get to decide that.”
“You can’t even shower. You can’t-"
“Don’t.” He shakes his head. “Don’t throw all of that in my face. That’s - don’t you do that to me. I trusted you with those secrets.”
“I don't understand what changed," I whisper. "We agreed to stick together. Remember? So… what changed, lit - Casey? What did I do?”
His expression twists with guilt. “It’s not about you.”
I try to swallow, but it feels like my throat has closed up too tight to allow it. I make a choked sound instead. He flinches at the noise before taking a careful step forward. “Jake…”
“No. I get it,” I say, my voice awful and gravelly. “You’re right. This is about you, not me. I’m being selfish right now.”
He frowns. “Why?”
“Why what?”
“Why are you being selfish? Why do you even care?”
This again? I try to remain patient, knowing DuGray really fucked him up. Knowing he might need to hear it over and over before he believes it. “Because I care about you, Casey.”
“You care about all of us.”
“Well, yes, but-”
“Is it just me and Carter that you call little one?” he asks, his voice shaking. He finally looks up at me again, hurt in his eyes. “Or did you call the guys you used in the compound that too?”
My stomach clenches as it dawns on me. That’s what did this. I called Carter little one in the laundry room, stepping in as a caretaker since Travis wasn’t here and Maison couldn’t. I had seen Casey crying outside the room, but I had figured the tears were for his friend. But that’s when he started avoiding me again, wasn’t it? I lost his trust. I made him feel like just another survivor. I made him feel like he’s not my priority after all.
“Casey-”
“Don’t lie,” he begs. “Just tell me the truth.”
But the truth will sound so fucking bad.
“Yes.” I have to suck in a breath at the way his face twists in pain. When he doesn’t speak, I force myself to continue. To try to explain. “It’s always been my preferred term of endearment. But it’s different with you, Case. I don’t know how to explain it, but it’s different. They were just… little one. You’re my little one. My little fish, remember? There’s a difference.”
He drops his gaze, his feet shuffling in place. He doesn't believe me. “I still need to go.”
“Casey…”
