Chapter 11 Casey Joe
Casey Joe
What the fuck had I done?
The toe of my work boot tapped double-time as I waited for the damn doctor to see me the day after I purposely let Bryce’s aunt think we were dating.
I had a love-hate relationship with doctors.
On one hand, they’d helped to keep me alive back when my damn heart wanted to take me out.
On the other hand, I hated all the changes they wanted me to make.
Yeah, yeah, I knew the changes were for my benefit, and if I wanted to keep on keepin’ on, I needed to follow their advice.
Didn’t mean I liked sitting in the damn waiting room.
Waiting.
Waiting.
And fuckin’ waiting some more.
Why was it so many places demanded I had to be on time or risk them cancelling my appointment or charging me a fee, but they could damn well keep me waiting until my dick shriveled up from old age?
I snapped the rubber band on my wrist.
Fuck.
I knew damn well my check-up wasn’t going to go well.
I’d known it for weeks.
Was I doing a good job with cutting out the smokes and not drinking as much?
Fuck yeah, I was, and I honestly thought I should be getting a bit more praise for what a damn good job I was doing.
Did people think it was easy to just drop a lifetime of cigarettes and drinking?
You know damn well you’ve got more of a problem with alcohol than what drinking a little less is going to help, an annoying little voice at the back of my head nagged.
I tapped my boot harder and faster.
And you know you haven’t exercised worth a shit, and you’re still eating pretty much like garbage, the voiced continued to bitch.
I snapped the rubber band so hard it brought tears to my eyes and fought the urge to stomp my boot heel.
Yeah, so what? I wasn’t doing as well as I should have been. It wasn’t great, but it was better than nothing.
All this shit was why I’d gone and told Dizzy that Bryce and I were dating.
I was stressed, I wanted to help a friend, and I wasn’t thinking clearly due to wanting a cigarette and a beer.
Period.
End of story.
The bitchy little voice in my head cackled.
Mmhm, okay. Go ahead and tell yourself whatever lies you think will help you sleep better, big guy.
“Shut up,” I muttered, snapping the rubber band before giving up. Unwrapping a sucker, I shoved it in my mouth. Probably would end up with scars on my damn wrist from the band along with my fuckin’ teeth rotting out.
But I knew the fuckin’ voice in my head was right.
And that knowledge fuckin’ terrified me, while at the same time had my heartbeat racing in a way that had nothing to do with my cardiovascular health.
Deep down—no masks, no bullshit, no lies—I was looking forward to having an excuse to be close to Bryce outside of working on the gym and living together.
A few “dates” for Dizzy, and we’d let the farce run out with the claim of staying friends. She’d leave Bryce alone for a while, he’d get a reprieve, and—well, what was I getting out of it?
What, indeed.
Fuck if I knew.
Mmhm, keep up the lies, you big lunkhead. How you going to deal with the “breakup”? You think you can just enjoy a few fake dates and then go on your merry way? And how you going to feel about Bryce finding someone new after you two split up?
A fist gripped my heart, and it had nothing to do with how well I’d been taking care of myself. The thought of pretending to date Bryce, pretending to break up, and him dating other guys for real had my stomach churning.
My brain rolled its eyes and said, “This right here is exactly why you should’ve left damn well enough alone.”
But my heart sighed, butterflies flitting through my chest, and said, “We just found him, we can’t let him go so soon. Maybe the dating doesn’t have to be pretend? Maybe the eventual breakup doesn’t have to happen?”
Fuck.
What the hell did any of this shit mean? Did I want to date Bryce?
Or was the better question why did I want to date Bryce?
I hadn’t dated anyone since Missy. I wasn’t cut out for dating or relationships.
Or maybe you’ve just needed time, and no relationship was going to be right for you until he came along.
A blast of old memories—emotions and fears punching me right in the gut—washed over me. The confusion, the longing, the disgust, and the wishing for something I knew I’d never have because my situation would never be right for that.
But now?
Now I was a grown ass man who cared less than nothing about what people thought of me. So what if I wanted to start something with someone? Anyone. Who the fuck got to have any concern about my personal life?
Maybe you need to figure out your physical and mental health so you can be around to have a personal life, the voice whispered.
And there it was.
The waiting room door swung open at the exact moment my hand ran from my eyes down to my mouth, and my heart caught in my throat.
Whether because I was terrified the doctor was going to give me bad news or because the soul-deep truth I’d spent most of my life fighting and hiding was tiptoeing toward the light—all because some fuckin’ health nut with a gorgeous smile came to town and somehow found the patience to put up with my shit—I didn’t know.
Didn’t know if I wanted to know.
Wasn’t sure how to process any of it.
But as I followed the nurse to the exam room, a boulder shifted deep in my chest, certainty sparking all the way to the core of my damn soul.
Why right then and there? Maybe I’d never know, but something big had happened in a part of my being that was very unfamiliar to me—a transformation that seemed to come from out of the blue—or maybe it was something that had been building for decades, just waiting for the right moment.
As we continued down the hall, the fluorescent lights were too bright, but the clarity shining through me was abso-fuckin’-lutely crystal clear.
It was time to make a real change in my life.
Yeah, it had been time for years and years, but better late than never.
Right?
Fuck. I sure hoped I was right.
If I wanted to be around for fifty more years, I couldn’t keep living the way I was. The food wasn’t worth it. The smokes and drinking weren’t worth it.
The exercise was going to suck major donkey dick.
But there in that office hallway, the overwhelming scent of antiseptic and latex making me want to gag, I knew without a shadow of a doubt things had to change if I wanted to keep on living the life I’d been given.
Shitty as it maybe was at times, this life was mine, and something deep inside me had shifted. While I’d never wanted to give up, a million voices in my head had spent most of my life telling me it would just be so much better, so much easier.
But a switch had flipped in that waiting room.
I wanted to fight because I planned to be around for a lot longer.
For my boys.
For me.
And maybe for whatever you haven’t yet let yourself admit might be possible with Bryce?
I sighed as I dropped into the chair. “Fuck if I know,” I muttered.
“I’m sorry, what?” the graying nurse asked with a quirk of her brow.
I shook my head. “Nothin’, just talkin’ to myself. Let’s get this shit show on the road.”
Less than an hour later, I slammed my truck door and revved the engine.
Fuck.
I didn’t know why I was acting surprised. I’d known damn well going into the appointment the doctor was going to say my numbers weren’t where he wanted to see them.
It wasn’t like I thought I’d sit down, and he’d tell me my numbers were comparable to those of a healthy twenty-five-year-old, and I didn’t need to see him for the next ten or so years.
“Mr. Riggs,” the rail-thin, bespectacled man had started. Doctor Adam Rahim was younger than me, probably closer to Hudson’s age. I had no clue how he’d ended up smack dab in butt-fuck Midwest, but I knew he was top of his graduating class, and he was a well-respected doctor.
Yeah, I’d looked him up.
So, sue me.
The man was smart. He was right there, keeping up with all the cutting-edge heart health technologies.
That didn’t mean I had to like what he said to me.
“Mr. Riggs,” Dr. Rahim tried again as he scanned through the papers in his right hand, his left hand tapping the edge of the file folder on the desk.
I crossed my arms.
When Dr. Rahim glanced up at me, his eyes softened. “Why don’t you tell me about the progress you’ve made.”
His words were a pin to my defensive anger.
Slumping in my seat, I let out a long breath.
“Fuck, Doc. I don’t know. I knew it would be hard, but I didn’t know just how hard.
I’m going insane without the smokes. Usually, I’d drink to numb the cravings, but I can’t do that either.
I’m in therapy, and it’s helpful but also a bunch of shit.
” I pinched the bridge of my nose. “I know I have to do better with what I’m eating, and I have to get more exercise.
” The stinging heat of tears pricked at my eyes.
Fuckin’ hell.
“Mr. Riggs,” Dr. Rahim started. “Quitting smoking cold turkey is very hard to do. You’re likely through some of the worst cravings, but a patch or something might—”
“No, feels like I’ve done too much to get to this point. I’ll keep pushing through.”
He nodded. “If you change your mind…”
I returned the nod. “I know I’ve sucked ass at the diet and exercise, but I’m ready to change that.”
Dr. Rahim cocked his head. “What changed from last time? You were very much against it when we last spoke.”
My cheeks pinked. “Yeah, I know. Sorry, I’m an asshole.” When he didn’t disagree, just smirked, I huffed out a laugh. “I don’t know exactly, but things feel different this time. I don’t know if I can make all the changes on my own, but I’m willing to try this time.”
“It’s okay to start small,” Dr. Rahim said. “We can provide resources for a dietician and physical fitness coach—”
“Nah,” I said with a smile. “I think I’ve already got the inside scoop.”
The rest of the appointment had been a blur of numbers I mostly didn’t understand. Dr. Rahim had agreed to see me in three months to check on my progress. If my bloodwork and a stress test weren’t looking better, I’d have to answer for it.
But as I climbed the stairs to my temporary home above Armstrong Health & Fitness, I couldn’t help the bloom of hope fluttering in my chest.
“Hey,” Bryce said. “How was the appointment?” The look on his face told me he’d expected grumpy Casey.
“It was shit,” I said. “And I want a cigarette, a beer, and a large pizza. In that order.”
He eyed me warily.
“But I think I’m gonna go for a run instead. You wanna come?”
Bryce stared at me for several beats, those pretty hazel eyes blinking slowly. “Um, sure.” He gripped the back of his neck looking sheepish. “And Dizzy invited us over for dinner.”
“Perfect,” I said. “It will help me keep my mind off this shit.”
In the next twenty minutes, we changed into running clothes and headed down the stairs. The run was awful, and I had no doubt I was one more stride away from dying. I appreciated Bryce taking it easy on me, but the stop at Hudson’s place was likely the only thing that kept me from meeting my maker.
“Do you want to stay for dinner?” Lance asked as he and Jack set the table, and my boys rough-housed over the grill. “We have plenty.”
Henry had extended the invite a few days earlier, but I’d declined because I’d been in a foul mood.
What was new?
“No, we’re having dinner at Dizzy’s,” I said before taking a long swig of water.
Lance eyed me. “So, what’s up with that?”
I shrugged. “She thinks we’re dating.”
All four of them paused to stare at me.
“It’s just a bit of pretend,” Bryce said, his cheeks a delicious shade of pink.
I tossed the bottle toward the trashcan. “Thought I’d get her off his back with the terrible blind dates.”
Bryce eased a bit of the awkwardness by carrying the plate of hot dogs and burgers to Henry and Hudson, and Lance took that moment to grab my elbow and steer me around the corner.
“What’s up?” he asked.
I shrugged again. “Nothin’.”
“No, you don’t get to act like a petulant toddler. Are you into him?” I’d known the man almost my entire life, I knew when he was flabbergasted.
“Would that be a problem?” I shot back.
Lance pushed me. “Shut up, you know it wouldn’t be. I’m just…I didn’t…when did you…?”
I chuckled. “Shit man, I get it, words are hard.”
He pushed me again. “Back to my question. Are you into him?”
I sighed and let my gaze travel to where Bryce laughed with my boys.
“I don’t know,” I admitted. “I know I’ve got a lot of shit to fix, but I know I’m not not into him.”
Lance did a long, slow blink. Then he shook his head as if clearing away a fog. “As long as you’re happy, that’s all that matters.”
“And healthy,” Jack added, popping around the corner with a grin but very serious eyes. “You have to take care of yourself.”
I nodded, my throat suddenly thick with something I wasn’t yet able to put a name to. “That’s the plan.”
“What’s the plan?” Hudson asked as the three of them joined us on the side of the house like it was completely normal for us to just stand in the little area chit-chatting.
I cleared my throat. “Um, my appointment wasn’t great, but I’m gonna do better this time.”
All five men stared at me as if waiting for a punchline.
“Fuck off,” I muttered. “For real. I get it. I have to do better.” I gestured wildly toward the general vicinity of where we’d been running. “I was runnin’ wasn’t I?”
“You’ve been doing a great job—” Hudson started.
“Nah, I need y’all not to fuckin’ baby my ass.
I’m unhealthy as shit, and I know it.” Something cracked in me as Henry pulled Jack to his side and rested his chin on top of his pretty blond head.
Blinking back the sting of tears, I went on.
“I have a problem, but this time, I really do plan to do better. Everything has to change. Smoking, drinking, eating, exercising, all of it.”
“We’ll all be here to help,” Bryce said, his hand warm and firm on my shoulder.
“Damn right we will,” Lance agreed.
Henry and Hudson stepped forward to hug me, Jack getting squished between our bigger bodies with a squeal.
Feeling like I’d just accomplished something huge—although, I had no clue why telling them I was going to work on all the shit was so monumental…
maybe because now they all knew and they’d be looking out for me, there was no escaping it even when it was hard—I took a deep breath.
“We gonna finish this shit-ass run or what?” I asked Bryce.
He smirked. “Let’s do it.”
We all agreed we’d see each other before the big Fall Fest, and then Bryce and I took off at a slow jog toward home.