AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Who the fuck are you?”
“I can take him away,” Keats says slowly, his voice cold and awful. He looks at me like he doesn’t even know me. “I will take him away so fucking fast. If you ever tell anyone it was me who made this happen, if you even tell Casey about this, I’ll take him away and Casey will never see him again.”
I step away, not sure I like having whoever this man is inside my house. “Then what story am I allowed to tell?”
“The head made an exception. You put in a request, explained the situation, made a case for how well Jeff would be able to handle it because of his career, and the head agreed. The director called you, explained the situation, and gave you the warnings I just did. I wasn’t a part of this.”
“Are you him? The head?”
Keats doesn’t even blink. “Don’t be a fucking idiot. I did you a favor, alright? Please just… fucking take it.”
I stare at him for a few more seconds. And then I do the only thing I can. “Thank you.”
His shoulders relax, his entire expression softening. “I wish I could do so much more.”
“Stick around,” I tell him, taking the paper and folding it to put in my pocket. “Watch them reunite. You’ll see that it’s more than enough.”
Epilogue
Casey
"Hey, little fish," Jake calls from the door of the pool area. It's been much longer than the 5 minutes he gave me, so I don't pout or argue, already swimming over to the stairs. Bryce and Matt follow behind, probably ready to be done anyway. They like the pool and love spending time with me, but I've accidentally held them hostage for nearly 2 hours tonight.
Jake comes forward as I step out of the pool, wrapping a fluffy towel around my shoulders. He rubs his big hands along my covered arms to warm me up. I hum, my eyes starting to fall closed as I soak up the daddy love. But I catch sight of his expression and realize something is wrong. He notices the moment I tense up, his hands coming to a stop.
"Daddy?" I ask as his eyes find mine. He looks scared. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing, baby boy. Just - daddy needs you to be good and get dressed, okay? There's something I want to… show you."
I frown, not sure I believe him. But Dr. Singh has been helping me work on positive thinking, so I try my best to let it go as he finishes drying me off and helps me into a pair of sweats and my favorite sweatshirt of his - the gray faded Army one. After swiping the towel over my hair once more, he gives me a wobbly smile and takes my hand, pulling me out of the pool room and up the basement stairs.
No one is around besides Keats, who is lingering awkwardly in the kitchen. He nods at me before looking at Jake and tapping his watch. Jake looks down at his own and swears under his breath before turning to me with a slight panic in his eyes. “There’s someone coming to see you. Someone - well. Fuck, I’m not entirely sure how to even say it other than to just-”
Someone knocks on the door. It’s hard. Loud. Nearly frantic. Four quick knocks. The smallest of pauses. Then some more. They try the handle next, making it jiggle where the lock catches and refuses them entry. The doorbell rings at the same time as more knocks hit.
“Jeez,” I mumble. “Is someone dying?”
“Casey,” Jake says quietly. “Open the door, baby boy.”
I frown at him. “Um. Aren’t you going to tell me to look through the peephole first? Or let you do it since you have your gun? Or-”
“Open the door,” he says again.
“O…kay.” I shoot him a look, then one toward Keats who is now very awkwardly hovering nearby, watching us closely. The voices of my friends are coming closer too, probably coming to investigate who is so eager to get inside our house. Then I turn the lock on the door and swing it open. “Um, h-”
Arms wrap around me so tight that even if I was able to manage to breathe through my shock, I wouldn’t be able to suck in any air anyway. I’m immediately surrounded by the most familiar of scents - dad's cologne. I don’t know the name of it. Just that it was always in a cheap plastic brown bottle and smelled just like this - woodsy and spicy with a little bit of citrus. It’s the scent of growing up. Of home.
My world stops. Crumbles. Reshapes. Solidifies.
Dad.
"Oh, Casey." The man pulls back, his hands sliding up my arms and the sides of my neck until he has my cheeks gripped in his hands. He looks older, like the past months have aged him years, and there's a sadness in his eyes despite their brilliant blue color. His smile trembles. When he speaks again, his voice is thick and gravelly. "My boy. You're alive. You're fucking alive."
I'm already crying, I can feel the tears pouring down my face, but it barely registers. "Dad." I lurch forward, needing to be in his arms again. Needing to squeeze him tight and breathe him in and let myself feel truly, fully, completely happy for the first time since men stole me off a street in Ann Arbor. "Dad. Dad. Dad."
"I'm right here, kid. I'm right here." He crushes me to him, his whole body shaking. Or maybe my body. Or the both of us. "I'm not fucking losing you again, you hear me? Don't you do that again."
I laugh, the sound watery and weak. "Okay, dad. Okay, I won't."
