16 – Comfortable Friendship,Painful Pining?
Jessie
“Door’s open!” Mom calls after I’ve knocked. I swing it open, letting myself into her quaint apartment. It’s in an older building, but the owners before her renovated. It has the classic moldings, higher than usual ceilings, original wood flooring, with creamy colored walls. She’s decorated it with minimalistic designs, from artwork to greenery, the furniture simple, but elegant. Very Lillian.
“I’m so happy to see you, Jessie!” she coos from her side of the kitchen as I make my way in and put the dessert container on the counter. I make my way around her, place a kiss to her cheek before grabbing a beer from the fridge and sitting at the table.
“You made something?”
“You asked me to?” I raise an eyebrow at her.
“Well, I figured you’d buy something. I didn’t know you baked.” I shrug at her.
“Jenny taught me some things back in the day.” Something uneasy settles in my stomach at the thought of bringing Jenny up, when Casey was the one that helped me make the Scottish Macaroons. “I actually had help with this one, though. A, uhh… friend, she picked the recipe and showed me how to make it. A family recipe, apparently.” I’m rambling and my nervousness must be evident, because I never speak to mom about this crap and she gives me a knowing look.
“A female friend?”
“Don’t look at me like that. We’re just friends.”
“And when do I get to meet this friend?” She pulls her lips into her mouth to smother a laugh, and I roll my eyes.
“Relax, you already know her. It was Casey, Addison’s friend… from Great Falls.”
“Oh, finally.” She slaps a hand on the counter and starts laughing before busying herself with the rest of dinner.
“What the hell do you mean by finally?” I sit up straighter, suddenly defensive.
“I saw the way you’ve looked at that girl since you were twenty-two. I know you were both kids when you met, but you’ve always had a connection; it was clear as day. I just wasn’t sure you were ever going to do anything about it. Finally, that wench, Jen—”
“Alright, that’ll do,” I scold her and get up from the table to pace. To do something with the weird energy coursing through me.
“I’m just saying,” she lowers her voice and rounds the counter, stopping in front of me and resting her hands on my shoulders. Her blue eyes roam mine, and she gives me a pitying smile. The same one that used to send Addison into a rage. “I’m glad you’re finding someone who cares about you. I know you loved Jenny. But you were both so young, and she wasn’t ready to be thinking about anyone other than herself. I’m not about to fault a woman for chasing her career—” I give her an incredulous look because, up until recently, she most definitely would fault a woman–her daughter, Addison, in fact–for such things. “Don’t look at me like that. I’m still growing. I’m… doing better.” Glad for the pivot opportunity, I shrug her off and head for the kitchen, trying to busy myself by cleaning up and putting things away.
“Speaking of, have you caught up with Addison recently?” I glance up at her and she nods, a sad look on her face.
“We’re doing much better. I have a lot of ground to make up for. I… well, I caused more damage than I thought I had.” The sadness in her tone cracks open a slither in my chest.
“You’ll get there. She loves you.” She nods.
“Where’s Riley tonight?” The sarcastic comments and dramatic storytelling the only things missing from this small apartment. Even though Riley was actively trying to find anywhere else to live, she hadn’t managed to nail down a roommate.
“She’s out with friends. I presume she’ll stumble in at some point later.” She heaves a sigh, more of exhausted effort than anything else. Riley is a free spirit. I prayed for anyone that attempted to tame her in the future.
“Have you reached out to your father?” What the fuck?
“Uh, no. Why the fuck would I?”
“Jessie! You might be thirty-three, but I’m still your mother!” she chastises me and I send her a guilty look.
“I’m sorry, but why? Why would I do that?”
“He is still your father, Jessie. Despite his faults, he helped raise you. You are a part of him.” I scoff and shake my head, trying to bite down on the colorful words I’d like to throw his way.
“I love you, Mom, but please, don’t push this point. That chapter of our lives is done. I have nothing to say to him.” Especially not after the way he was with Addison. Watching her smack him in the jaw was the highlight of the entire shitshow. A warm flame of pride lit in my chest as I watched her defend herself, to fall into her fury, feel it and embrace it.
“I really hope you don’t ask Addy this shit when you see her.” She scoffs this time.
“I’m not that much of an idiot,” she says under her breath and it makes me chuckle. She brings her eyes to me and she laughs lightly, too.
“So, how come you haven’t invited the girls, too?” I ask. I’m aware my relationship with Mom is different to the girls, at least with Riley and Addison. They struggled with Mom, and maybe that was because Mom was going through her own shit toward the bitter end of her marriage, but I would have thought bridges would be made.
“I just wanted some time with my boy.”
“You know this is why they get pissy and call me the golden child?” I tease, and she slaps me on the chest.
“I love all my children equally. I also know that I haven’t been the best mother to my daughters, and they need more time. Space. Also, women can be horribly dramatic, and I like that you are honest with me.” I roll my eyes again, but refuse to put my two cents in. No point arguing.
“And speaking of honesty, tell me about you and Casey.”
“Nothing to tell. We’re just friends, Mom.” I sigh, and when I look at her, she is pulling the same look that says she knows more than she is letting on.
“What? I’m serious.”
“Mmhmm.” She shakes her head. “You lie just like your father,” she says under her breath, and some of that deeply buried fury rises to the surface at the hit of her words. I know she doesn’t mean it to cut, but it does all the same. Comparing me to that manipulative liar and cheat.
I will never be like him. Not in a million years.
I roll my shoulders and bite my lip to hold back words that would do nothing but cut.
“C’mon, let’s get this dinner on the table so we can eat, and you can talk to me about your day.” She changes the subject, and we finish up in the kitchen.
“Where the fuck is it?” I grumble, internally berating myself because I’m thirty-three and a fucking mess. I could have sworn I left my manuscript by this chair, and yet, it’s nowhere to be found. My phone pings from my pocket, distracting me from my manhunt.
That was accompanied by a picture of a cat riding a llama, and the laugh that tumbles out of me is directed more at her sending this than the random picture.
I shake my head and pocket my phone, returning to my search, just as it pings again. I plop myself on the reading chair and settle in for the slew of texts.
This has been the pattern for the last couple of weeks. Since Casey came and took over my kitchen, we’ve fallen into this comfortable friendship, or rather, painfully pining from a distance, in my case. But it’s been nice, having someone to just be around. Nothing is forced, and we can exist comfortably in silence together without any expectations.
I think I’m suffering from denial, though. I have to remind myself that she offered to be my person simply because there was no one else. I needed to remember that this thing between us will be over the moment she finds someone suitable to spend her life with. But, fuck, am I struggling with continuing to hide how goddamned badly I want her. I had resigned to avoiding her in person, which, of course, only made her force herself into my space more. Not that I am sorry about it.
“I haven’t seen you in three days, so I’m checking for signs of life,” she had stated as she skipped through my door a couple of days ago. She brought the special edition book I got her, and we sat in a peaceful silence together as we read. I say silence, but it was anything but. This was how I learned she is a loud reader. She coos, ‘ aw’s,’ and, ‘oh my god that was so beautiful’, as she throws her head back and hits her face with the book. The most dramatic and expressive reader I’ve ever met.
And I fucking love it.
Her text demands when I leave the llama picture on read.
I try to think of something–anything. Because it’s too much, pretending like I don’t spend every fucking shower thinking of her. Like I don’t wake up seeing her incredible smile. I’m closer to losing my control every time we hang out, and I can’t bring myself to pretend today. Before I have to think of an excuse, the sky opens and drops luck right into my lap.
Manuscript hunt is put off as I flick a confirmation text to Noah, standing from the living room and walking for the front door. Telling myself to keep the olive branch open and not tell Noah to quit inviting me to his regular Monday night at Pucks with the guys.
I roll my eyes and hide a laugh and instead fixate on those two letters.
My.
“So, what’s the deal with you and Casey?” Noah asks from beside me, and I try to hide my intake of air as I sip my beer.
“There is nothing with Casey and me.” I shake my head, avoiding eye contact. Caleb, from my other side, scoffs and Noah just chuckles.
“Yeah, okay. How long you plan on sitting in denial for? We did this with Noah already, and it’s kind of old,” Caleb responds. I roll my eyes but take the deflection.
“What did Noah do?”
“Pretended he wasn’t head over heels for your little sister.” Ugh.
“You know what, I actually don’t think I want to know about that,” I grumble, sipping my drink, and Matt leans over and tips his beer bottle against mine in agreement.
“Don’t you pipe up, De Luca. I want to hear none of your shit, either.” His face is shock before the rest of the table breaks out into laughter and Caleb takes the opportunity to barb further. “Might have to add Lucas to your hit list.” Lucas spits his beer slightly as he wipes his mouth and hits Caleb with a reprimanding look.
“What are you talking about, Smith?” he asks, and I turn my attention to Caleb, who pins me with his shit-eating grin, that usually makes me what to knock someone out, except, for some reason, on him, it’s not as punchable.
“Well, I heard that Riley was taking the spare room at Lucas’s joint at the end of next month. How many guys live with you, Luke? Was it four or five?” Caleb taunts, and I see Lucas’s face change from concerned to annoyed as he rolls his eyes, and I clench a fist at the thought of my baby sister in a house of four twenty-five-year-old boys.
“Other than me, it’s one. Lenny is moving out, so there are just me and Damen.” He says it leaning back in his chair and pinning me with a stare I can’t read.
I sip my drink and swallow the words that threaten to end this small circle of acquaintances I’ve made.
“It’s all right, JJ.” Ethan rests a long arm across the back of Lucas’s chair and slaps him on the back a few times. “Little bro here has no game. Least of all when it comes to the likes of Riley Jenkins.”
“What, you don’t think I could pick her up?” Lucas challenges, humor lacing his tone, and I have to white knuckle my beer to keep from throwing it at him.
“You usually go for the pretty, timid ones. You know, less bite to them, so you can just waltz in and charm. Less work. I’ve seen you at the bar on your nights off,” Caleb replies, and Lucas rolls his eyes before he turns back to his brother. Ethan and Caleb, of course, are far more intelligent than Lucas, having goaded him into a foot-in-mouth situation. If more words leave his mouth, I might get kicked out of this venue.
“Please, I’d have Riley eating out of my hands in no time.” I slam my beer to the table and level a glare in Lucas’s direction. A warning. I will hear no more where my sisters are concerned.
“You’re quiet over there, De Luca. You gave me shit for weeks about Addison. But nothing about Riley? Really?” Noah teases Matt, who laughs.
“That’s because I knew you had a chance with her. Riley isn’t giving Lucas the time of day. He’s too quiet. She’d eat him alive.” That releases a tension in my chest, because he isn’t wrong. Riley can be fucking insane. Still, I keep my gaze on Lucas, and he gives me a subtle nod, pulling a tight smile to his lips. I hope, in a mutual understanding.
“You know, if you dickheads are going to spend every Monday talking shit or discussing the details of where my sisters are concerned, you can drop the invite. I’m not interested in suffering a slow death,” I grunt out, which causes Caleb to beam a pleased smile and chuckle, completely satisfied with how worked up he got me.
“Lighten up, dude, we’re just poking. Does it make it better that the woman I’m chasing isn’t a Jenkins?”
“Makes me like you a hell of a lot more than everyone else at this table.” I give him side-eye, and his face beams a boy-ish grin that has my rage cooling. Not a bad guy, I decide.
“So, back to Casey,” Noah redirects.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Karvelas.” I rub a frustrated hand down my face. “You lot are worse than the women. Can’t you talk work and sport like normal guys?”
“But women are so much more interesting,” Noah provides, his smile growing as I roll my eyes at him.
“There isn’t anything to know. We’re friends.”
“Ava and I were friends once, too.” A low laugh spreads across the table. As I meet Matt’s eyes, he smiles and winks at me. Prick.
Still, I can’t help but let a smirk hit my face as I sip my beer.
“She’s young, free, and happy. We just hang out sometimes. I think she honestly enjoys the peace and quiet my apartment offers. Between Rosie and Addison, there is a lot going on. Plus, I’ve helped her out with a thing at the studio. It’s just… normal.” I shrug and spin the beer in my hands.
“Except, she is super into you,” Lucas chimes in.
“And you’d know?” I challenge with a half-smile.
“You see the way she looks at you?” he provides, still looking straight through me with his clear hazel eyes. I shuffle on my chair and look back to my beer.
“Casey is like a deer in headlights on the best of days. You see the way she looks at a Blue Heaven and Banana Latte? Ridiculous,” I respond, but struggle to hide the little chuckle and smile that hits my face, remembering the look Case gave me as she tasted that latte for the first time. When I finally look up, I have five sets of eyes looking at me incredulously. “What the fuck are you all looking at?” I demand.
“I correct myself. Have you seen the way you look when you talk about her?”
I turn to Noah. “If I’d known your catch up was an inquisition into the love lives of your friends, I would have declined the offer.”
“Oooh, love life?” Fuck’s sake. I run a frustrated hand down my face at Caleb’s taunt and Noah chuckles beside me.
“Fine.” I lose the battle of pretending. It’s too damn exhausting. “I’m into Casey. But she is just a friend. There isn’t anything there. She got out of a long-term thing, and she’s… well, she is good. She could do so much better than me. Deserves better.” I mumble most of it as I sink back into my chair and skull the rest of my beer.
“They all could and do deserve better than the likes of you lot.” Ethan gestures between Noah, Matt, and me. “But you can be selfish,” he provides.
He’s wrong, though. I can’t, not where she is concerned. I’d rather never see her again than force her to settle for something as mediocre as a life with me. Not with the dreams she has, the hopeless romantic that she is. I shake my head at Ethan’s response and Noah chimes in.
“Have you asked her?”
“Asked her what?” I sigh, officially over this interrogation.
“What she wants.” I turn to look at him because… well, no, I haven’t. But it wouldn’t be me and I can’t bring myself to face the rejection. Again.
“My guy, you’re about as approachable as a starving lion, and she is like a delicate flower. She isn’t coming to you, despite how much she probably wants to. Your move.” Although I disagree with their description of Casey, because the time we’ve spent together recently makes me think she actually has incredibly thick skin and could smack a man down if the situation arose, but it still makes me consider. A tug-of-war starts to tighten my chest. Between wanting to avoid the rejection and losing a friend I’ve grown to need in my life, and perhaps actually succeeding and having Casey in all the ways I’ve only dreamed about.
Officially over being the topic of conversation, I point the knife in a different direction. “You’re awfully quiet back there. What about you?”
“What about me?” Ethan tries to shrug off the question.
“You’re almost as old as I am. What? No crush the guys fucking hammer you about?” I grumble back and Ethan just waves a hand in the air, trying to remain casual.
“Too busy. No one interesting enough, I suppose.”
“Oh, sure,” Lucas says under his breath.
Ethan levels him with a look mid-sip, and Caleb latches on to the information. “Oh, here we go.” Caleb claps his hands together. “What have you got for us?” He leans forward, eager to hear the response. Noah, Matt, and I just watch in apt fascination.
The silence is deafening as the brothers spend a few moments in a death stare before Ethan drains his beer and gets up. “Hitting the john,” he says as he departs, and Lucas chuckles to himself.
The guys move on to better topics than grown ass men not knowing how to discuss feelings, and I remain mostly silent for the rest of the night. We all seem to have had enough of early week hangovers because we leave Pucks by 7pm, and I thankfully make it home sober and with no embarrassing stories.
Except, when I make it inside the apartment, I can’t help but notice how empty it is. The space is small, and yet it feels way too big with just me.
“Have you ever thought about writing a book?” The question pulls me out of the peaceful daze I had lulled myself into as we casually stroll through the stalls of the market. Casey’s gaze is fixated on the shelves holding a collection of used books as we meander through the state library’s stall. I do the same on the opposite side, both of us seeming to avoid eye contact.
“Uhhh, no,” I lie. “I don’t have anything interesting to say.” I haven’t told anyone about the book. Thought about submitting it to publishers, but the story felt too personal, too vulnerable, and I’m not exactly ready for people to see the wounds of my soul. It feels like some kind of betrayal to lie to her. I know deep down Casey would only shower me with praise and support. Perhaps it’s the latter that scares me. I know she’d encourage me to publish. In fact, I’m almost certain she’d go as far as sourcing editors, publishers. Fuck, she’d probably design me a cover and become my manager.
I turn my head over my shoulder, and there is a delicate pink on her cheeks that makes me want to brush my fingers against it and follow the trail to see how far down her neck it spreads. It makes me want to get rid of this friendship label, so I don’t have to have restraint. So I can touch her and learn her in every way. So I don’t have to hide how my heart is slowly growing, warming, and it is just filled with Casey.
She doesn’t continue to ask, so I take the opportunity to change the subject. “Have you ever thought about offering the re-binding as a service? I feel like people would pay good money for those covers.” She releases a self-deprecating laugh and I turn to her as we exit the stall, and she looks up at me.
“Not at all. But I like that it’s just for me.” She says it with a sweet smile, and fuck, I want to kiss her.
Your move.
Noah’s words from earlier taunt me. I want to make a move. God, do I want to make a move. But I don’t want to ruin… whatever this is. The last few weeks, I’ve felt more like myself than I have in the last two years. Sure, I’ve been making more of an effort, but I know the lightness and happiness I wake up feeling every day is solely because of Casey. The fact I can get through a day without chewing off someone’s head has everything to do with Casey. The prospect of seeing her, talking to her, or even spending the slow café afternoons thinking about her, makes me feel like I can get through the day again.
I know she doesn’t feel the same, and I’m not losing the only friendship I’ve maintained in order to trial a stupid fantasy.
We turn and continue down past a few more stalls, Casey loads up a basket of craft materials before checking out–that I then proceed to carry for her–and we continue for a few more minutes in peaceful silence, taking in what’s on offer until we get to a crepe stall.
“Hungry?” I look down at Casey and ask as she practically beams up at me.
“Yes!” She skips over to the crepes, and I can’t help but stare after her, can’t hide the awe in my face if I tried.
We order and continue to walk. Casey holds a huge, folded crepe in a cone, covered in chocolate spread, strawberries, and powdered sugar. She ordered two, so now I’m also getting a toothache at the sweetness. I usually can’t stand these kinds of desserts, but when she turned at the stall and asked if I was getting one, too, I couldn’t say no to that smile.
We walk until we find ourselves at a table and chairs off to the side of the market. The lights are lower, the air slightly cooler, and the quaint world of the market slips away as the busy nightlife of the city creeps in.
We spend a few moments eating in blissful silence before Casey drops a moan that has my eyes snapping to hers and I watch as her long eyelashes fan out across her cheeks and her lips pucker as she chews on her food.
“Oh, God. This is honestly heaven.” She mumbles over her food, the sounds sending flames of desire across my skin. I watch her for a moment, and it does nothing for my self-control. She pulls away and her eyes look at me for a second before looking to her crepe and snapping back, probably realizing I’m staring at her. “What?” she asks, still fumbling food in her mouth. The incredulous look is so adorable on her, my heart beats a little faster.
“You have shit all over you, Ace.” I smile at her, and she tries to wipe the chocolate from her face, missing it completely.
Still beautiful, even if she has chocolate and powdered sugar smudged across her cheek. I shake my head at her mess.
“Did I get it?” she asks and then tries again, missing again, and this time, I can’t help myself, a laugh tumbles out and I scoot slightly closer to her.
“Here.” I drag a thumb across her cheek and wipe the chocolate from her perfect skin. I linger longer than is necessary and I watch as her lips part on a sigh. I wipe again, nothing there, but selfishly, I can’t help myself. The touch burns across my skin, and seeing her physical reaction as she leans slightly into me has my self-control flying out the window.
With the chocolate off her skin and now on my thumb, I do the only thing my man brain can think to do, and I place my thumb in my mouth and lick the chocolate clean off. The same chocolate that was on my now forgotten crepe, and yet it tastes a thousand times more delicious. She swallows and her eyes track my thumb as her crepe lowers in her lap. We sit close enough that she is practically in my lap. She bites down on her lower lip, and that previously mentioned slip of my self-control snaps entirely.
Fuck it.
I move fast enough to not second guess, but slow enough that I don’t startle her, as I grip her chin and pull her in to seal my lips on hers. The second my body registers the taste of Casey, all blood leaves my brain and heads south. Relief flooding me when her body softens, her perfect lips mold against mine, and I swallow the little moan she releases when she relaxes against me. A gentle swipe of my tongue against the seam of her lips and she opens for me. The taste of her is chocolate and sugar and so incredibly sweet I think I might die. I could die here, right now, with Casey Baker kissing me.
My crepe finds its way to the ground as my baser instincts take over. Gripping her waist, I haul her onto my lap, and she wraps her arms around my neck without missing a beat, pulling her chest firmly against mine.
She feels incredible, the warmth of her seeping through our clothes, with her legs falling to cage my thighs and my hands exploring her back until my fingers tangle and pull on her soft auburn hair. Fuck, the need to lay her out on this table and fuck her mindless is like a restless energy I struggle to control as it vibrates through my veins.
Our tongues dance desperately, her lips soft against mine, as I learn the responses of her body. Her moans, the way she delicately rolls her hips, have me remembering how very public we are and how very carried away I’m about to get. I pull back, reluctantly breaking the best fucking kiss of my life, and lean my forehead against hers to catch my breath.
I pull back further to look at her, gauge her reaction, and pray to God I don’t find any regret. My heart is in my throat at what I find. Stunning blue eyes sparkling back at me, a light pink blush dusting her cheeks, and a dazed smile across her pretty face. My expression must reflect whatever she was hoping to find because she bites her bottom lip to suppress a smile, and a small laugh, that is beginning to be one of my favorite noises, tumbles out of her, her eyes flitting back to my lips.
“Umm.”
“Yeah,” I respond. Both of us unsure what happened. Only that I kissed her, and she fucking kissed me back. I’m desperate to not break the spell, to keep her here, panting in my lap. Even if I could bring myself to pull away from her, I’m going to need a minute.
“Why?” she whispers. The one question I was dreading, the one that forces me to face the possibility of rejection, to come to terms with the fact that Casey Baker is not in my future.
“Because I wanted to,” I say softly back, and for the first time in a long time, I don’t care about the consequences or what any of it means, because somehow, even if she isn’t into me, Casey is the only person that makes me feel unbroken.
“Me, too,” she whispers back, biting down on her smile again, and I feel that familiar fire burn under my skin. It takes everything in me to wrangle back control and not wrangle her into an Uber, take her back to my place, and properly lay claim to her. Instead, I stand, her still wrapped around me, and I release my grip on her hips to lower her to the ground. Before I can say anything, the sound of her phone ringing pierces the perfect bubble we’d been floating in.
“Dammit,” she mutters as she squeezes her eyes closed and leans her head on my chest. I chuckle softly, but my grip remains on her lower back. She withdraws the phone from her pocket, her eyebrows pulling taut when she sees who’s calling.
“What is it?” I ask, and something tugs on my chest, making it feel tight.
“It’s… It’s my sister.” She looks up to me, worry lining every part of her face. “I’m sorry. She doesn’t ever call me. I should get this; it could be important.” She searches my eyes as though she needs my permission.
“Don’t apologize, of course, answer it,” I rush out, hoping she just fucking answers it before it ends. She does and rushes out a greeting before her spine snaps straight and her face drops. Casey Baker, for the first time in history, is as ashen and pale as a ghost, and it feels like my own chest caves in.
She turns away from me, and I grab her bags as I follow after her. By the time I catch up, she is practically jogging to the entry of the market. “Ace, talk to me. What happened?” She spins and I see the unshed tears that have my chest clenching.
“My… it’s Grace. She…” Casey’s breaths come in heavy and fast as she shakes her head, a few tears dropping down her face. “Grace lost the baby,” she whispers as a sob leaves her lips. She looks like she might fall, but I drop the bags and wrap her close to me just as her knees give out. I hold her and she cries, the full body sobs shaking her as I hold her up against me. Losing the moment we had feels disappointing, but seeing Casey break like this? It feels like I’m shattering into a million pieces.