Chapter 3 Casey – Monday Afternoon #2
“It looks worse than it is, I promise,” Elton said before Casey could take a step. “I checked.”
Fine.
Casey settled his butt back against the sill.
Gabe shook his head. “I didn’t break anything.
Besides, it looked like someone who was not me really did break in the house fairly recently and Randy hasn’t bothered to clean it up.
I didn’t add to the chaos. Honestly, it was disgusting.
” Gabe glanced over to where Elton had made himself comfortable on the other end of the couch.
“How did Hero meet him anyway? Did she stay overnight there? Maybe she needs a tetanus shot. I need a shower, and I was in there less than five minutes.”
Casey took in Gabriel’s general state of dishevelment. The holly tree had done a real number on him. He supposed he should be glad; at least he wasn’t posting bail.
As he ran his eyes over Gabe again, the scrape, the deepening bruise, and the bag of defrosting peas told Casey he hadn’t been wrong. Gabe was in pain. Maybe he should grab the first aid kit anyway.
“You didn’t need to rush over here. I told you, it’s not as bad as it looks.
Elton took a look at it, and I don’t need stitches.
I even let him pour an ungodly amount of hydrogen peroxide on the cut.
If I get an infection, it will be some kind of bacterial miracle.
A second coming, a bacterial rapture. You do know I’m not that breakable, right? ”
Instead of answering him with words, Casey huffed and turned to look out the window. Gabe was, in fact, entirely too breakable.
A Steller’s jay, its feathers so black that the blue was merely a hint, flew past the window.
It careened downward to land on a stump and loudly announced its displeasure with the world in general.
Casey could relate. The jay cocked its head and seemed to look directly at Casey, its beady eyes glittering as if to say Get it together, big guy before it fluttered off with a loud squawk toward a stand of trees.
Sucking in a breath, Casey tried to marshal his thoughts.
He didn’t need Greta’s Real Talk to tell him the emotion he was feeling was fear.
Fear because he’d let Gabe past his barriers, and caring for Gabriel Karne was fucking frightening.
Fear because he had no control over the chaotic bumper car ride that was Charming Fucker, a man for whom rules were suggestions and not regulations.
The few times in his life before now that Casey’d envisioned being in a relationship, he’d seen himself as part of a safe—on the cusp of boring—couple.
Fictional days off together spent hiking or planning hikes.
Maybe volunteering to count that year’s salmon run or helping to rebuild the boardwalks at the local wetlands.
Gabe was not safe. There was no control switch. Casey just needed to hang the hell on. And, for reasons he hadn’t quite figured out yet, he wanted to.
Gabe patted the seat cushion next to his thigh. “You’re looming again.”
“Greta said the same thing,” he said with a halfhearted grumble. Crossing the room, Casey took the spot next to Gabe. Elton rose to his feet with a “Coffee?” and headed toward the kitchen.
“The answer is almost always yes, as you are fully aware. Do you need me to demonstrate how to use the espresso maker again?” Gabriel asked.
“No, I think I’ve got the damn thing figured out. Why you had to buy a coffee machine that costs more than your rent and has more buttons than the space shuttle, I will never understand.”
They watched Elton trundle out of the living room into the open concept kitchen, where he’d be able to make the hot beverages and still participate in the conversation.
“I’m not going to bother answering that.” Gabe turned to Casey. “So, what’s going on with you?”
Casey inhaled a deep breath, getting enough oxygen to start in on a decent safety lecture.
“Besides my face, I mean,” Gabe added hastily.
Casey deflated, letting his shoulders droop.
“I’m worried about Mickie. I’ve told both of you that. He asked me to give him some space, and I’m giving him space even if it kills me.” Casey tried not to cross his arms and pout. “This morning, Greta told me I’m helicoptering.”
Gabe wrinkled his nose, clearly thinking.
“I mean, maybe? Not to me though, babe. He’s your brother and you love him.
You’re the one who’s been there for him over the years, the one who believed.
It was a lot for you to handle. But for what it’s worth, I also don’t think him asking for space means he’s cutting you out of his life. ”
Factually, Gabe was right, but emotionally, Casey was having a hard time coming to terms with his brother’s need for emotional elbow room.
He promised himself—again—that he would let Mickie be Mickie.
If Mickie needed Casey, he had to trust that he’d reach out, even if it killed him to stay away until his brother asked.
Which left Casey with Gabriel to worry about. Who, if Casey was being honest with himself, was much more likely to induce some kind of medical emergency than Mickie, Elton, or Greta, although they all had their moments. Why couldn’t the people he cared for behave and stay where he put them?
“What exactly happened in Westfort this morning?” he asked, changing the subject away from him. “And I don’t want to hear the Cliffs Notes. Why aren’t the police here, ready to escort you to the county jail?”