Chapter 16
Bryce
“It’s not the same as sitting by a fire under the stars in your backyard,” I said, gesturing toward the little firepit on the tiny back patio area outside the gym, “but the tea is perfect for a fall night.”
After what I’d call a successful Fall Fest—the first of what I hoped would be many more to come—we’d spent the early part of the evening at the Roadhouse eating cake, drinking mocktails, and laughing with friends.
My body and heart had thrilled with each brush of Casey’s shoulder against mine, every press of our thighs together.
Was it purposeful or just because the table was crowded?
Was I reading too much into it?
Or was the contact his way of letting me know he forgave me for my out-of-line suggestion?
Not that I was going to allow him to let me off the hook that easily.
Sure, it would be nice to pretend like it hadn’t happened, but our friendship meant more to me than that.
I owed it to Casey to…well, I wasn’t exactly sure what I owed him.
An apology? An explanation? A promise it would never happen again? All of the above?
Yes.
But, no?
I wasn’t completely sure I was sorry, and I wasn’t positive I could promise it wouldn’t happen again. If Casey told me he’d been uncomfortable or offended, then I’d for sure tamp down my attraction to him and keep my comments to myself. I damn sure didn’t want to put him in an awkward position.
But if we talked, and Casey said it hadn’t bothered him—or if a miracle happened, and he indicated he reciprocated the feelings or wanted to explore my offer—well, if that happened, I definitely wasn’t sorry for what I said or for putting the idea in his mind.
Yeah, I knew I needed to stop the wishful thinking, but a guy could dream.
Casey grunted and took the mug of tea I held out for him. “Thanks.”
We’d visited with Dizzy and Barb along with the guys that evening at the bar. My aunt beamed at Casey and me about twenty times, and I was torn between feeling guilty for letting her think we were together and elation over the fact people naturally thought we were an item.
When we’d gotten back to the apartment, Casey had said he was going to sit outside for a while.
I’d opted to boil water and fill the tea pot with the apple cinnamon tea he’d brought home the day he and Lance went to pick up the strongman game.
I’d found him sprawled in the folding lawn chair, the flames in the firepit casting orange shadows on his face, and his arms crossed over his chest as a brisk breeze scattered the smoke.
Once we both had our tea, we sat in silence for several moments.
That was one thing I appreciated most about what Casey and I had, how easy it was to just exist with each other without feeling awkward.
Despite meeting not so long ago, our friendship had clicked from the get-go as if we’d known each other for decades.
Nights like that one always made something deep in my soul wonder about past lives.
If people could live lifetime after lifetime, it made complete sense to me that Casey Joe and I knew each other during a different time, and our souls kept finding their ways to each other with each new lifetime.
Or maybe we’d just been the right people at the right time and place for each other.
Or maybe a combination.
Either way, sitting by the crackling fire, sipping tea, and enjoying the cool fall night was one of the simple pleasures I’d missed being out in California, and I hoped I’d never take it for granted now that I was back where I belonged.
Surprisingly, it was Casey Joe whose words broke into the quiet night. “I let my boys grow up thinkin’ I’d lost the great love of my life.”
Unsure of how to respond to that, I breathed in deeply, savoring the fragrant steam rising from my mug as I waited for him to go on.
“Told them some fucked up fairytale about how me and Missy’s song was ‘It Must Have Been Love’ by Roxette.
” He scoffed at his words and took a long sip of tea.
“That song ain’t even close to bein’ a love song.
” Casey dropped his head back and stared up at the stars for so long I wondered if he’d dozed off.
“But what we had wasn’t even close to a love story, so I guess it was fittin’. ”
I cleared my throat. “I’m sorry you went through all that. You didn’t deserve to hurt the way you did.”
“Didn’t I?” Casey snapped back. “Who the fuck am I? Why should I suffer less than anyone else?”
For the rest of my life, apple cinnamon tea would remind me of real talk with a man who had quickly become a friend the likes of which I’d never had in my life. I shifted in the camp chair.
“You’re a good guy,” I started. “Maybe you don’t deserve to suffer less than anyone else, but does anyone deserve to suffer? I hate what your relationship with Missy did to you—what she took from you—and I wish things had turned out better for you and Billy.”
Casey grunted and took another swallow of his tea.
“But you’ve built something really good here,” I said, gesturing with my mug toward Haven Grove as a whole. “I’m glad to be here and be a part of it all.”
“My boys made the Riggs family what we are today, no help from me.”
I made a non-committal noise. “Maybe, maybe not. I can’t say I know how involved or not you were back then, but I know both those boys have stories they recall fondly. And they learned their work ethic and manners from somewhere.”
“Lance—” he started.
“Case,” I interrupted. “You have a lot of shit to work through, you’ll never get an argument from me on that.
Hell, we all have shit to work through. But you have a good heart, you love your family and friends, and your boys are who they are today at least in part because of you.
I’m not arguing with you on it. You want to feel sorry for yourself about a shitty love song?
Your shitty wife leaving? Your brother drinking himself to death?
Having a heart attack? Fine. But stop with the I was a bad dad routine.
” My words were louder and angrier than I’d meant for them to be, but I felt them in my soul.
Casey eyed me over his tea mug for a long moment.
I could see he wanted to argue. Wanted to snap back.
Instead, he finished his tea with one long swallow and thunked the mug down on the concrete.
When his eyes met mine again, a smirk played at his lips.
“Fuck you,” he muttered, leaning back and closing his eyes.
I couldn’t help the smile.
After several moments, he spoke again. “I just wish I had been a better role model. Hate they saw me drinkin’ so much to dull the pain. I numbed myself with the alcohol, wallowed in the shit life handed me because it was easier. Just wish they could have seen me at my best.”
Humming in reply, I waited a beat before going on. “I wish I hadn’t ended up a shadow of the guy I used to be all because I got caught up in the dopamine rush of the in crowd and social media.”
“Is that still a problem for you?” Casey asked.
“Not here, not right now. But it probably could be again. I maybe wasn’t my best back then, but I’ve got the chance to be my best now, and that’s what matters.”
Casey’s boot tapped on the concrete and his words were soft. “I really do want to be my best self. They deserve that.”
“You deserve that,” I murmured.
He stared up at the night sky. It wasn’t quite cold enough for us to see our breath, but his chest rose and fell slowly with a long, deep breath in. “You ever feel like life’s a five-thousand-piece puzzle?”
Not exactly sure where he was headed, I kept quiet.
I was rewarded when he went on.
“Like you’ve got these five thousand different pieces all supposed to fit together—and you know they will, eventually, but that might not happen until long after you’re gone.
” He sat up, leaning his elbows on his knees, his gaze trained on the ground.
“And you know you need to dive in and get started on the mess if you’re ever gonna get anywhere, but just the thought of wading through all those shit pieces makes your gut sour and your chest squeeze a little too tight.
So, you let it sit there, a scattered mess on the card table of life, gatherin’ dust and lookin’ like shit.
But then somethin’ happens and somehow, you’ve got two pieces together over here, a corner section over there, and bit by bit it may just start lookin’ like somethin’ real. ”
Barely daring to breathe, I waited for the rest of Casey’s analogy to work itself out.
He sighed. “And some days, it feels like you could put together the whole fuckin’ thing.
Like all you wanna do is sit there until it’s finished and beautiful.
But other days, the corner pieces fall off the table.
The section of four pieces you worked forever on seem to have no match no matter how many of those damn fuckin’ pieces you try to shove in there.
” His boots tapped an unsteady rhythm. “You wanna just flip the whole damn table and walk away for good. Ain’t nobody got time for shit-ass puzzles anyway. ”
Casey shifted and held his head in his hands, and I took the last cold swallow of apple cinnamon tea.
“But then,” his soft words competed with the hissing and popping of the fire.
“You have more good days than bad, and some of the pieces fit together like magic. You start to see what the big picture is supposed to look like. You hate that you wasted so much time lettin’ the puzzle just sit there when you could have been workin’ on bringin’ the picture to life.
” He sighed. “Fuckin’ hell, don’t listen to a damn word I’m sayin’… ”
“It makes sense.”
He didn’t speak.
Several minutes passed.
And then…
“Like you’re sittin’ there, workin’ on the puzzle day after day, some days thinkin’ you don’t even fuckin’ like puzzles, thinkin’ you might as well just say fuck it and play a fuckin’ card game instead, but somethin’ keeps you glued to that puzzle, and now it’s all you can think of, but that damn fuckin’ naggin’ in the back of your head keeps pokin’ and proddin’, remindin’ you that you could have put all these pieces together years ago. ”
“Sometimes the puzzle pieces aren’t ready to be put together,” I offered.
“Do you think sometimes the person doin’ the puzzle just ain’t ready?” He scoffed. “Fuck, that was dumb. Never mind.”
“It wasn’t dumb. Yeah, we all work at different paces. Sometimes it’s the puzzle, sometimes it’s the person, and maybe sometimes it’s a combination of the two.” I nudged his foot with mine. “That’s the beauty of it. We all get to work on our puzzles in the way that seems best for us.”
Casey grunted. “Yeah, well, I’ve been draggin’ ass on mine.
For the longest time, I thought I’d never finish it—hell, didn’t think I’d be around to even try—but now, it’s like I’ve got all these pieces I’m tryin’ to put together, but it’s sometimes too much too fast. Like I want to see the whole picture, but some of the pieces are shitty and some are scary. ”
“But I think a lot of the pieces are beautiful.”
Casey cleared his throat. “Let me guess. Sometimes you have to work through the shitty parts of the puzzle to get to see the beautiful pieces?”
I smiled into the cool, dark night. “Something like that.”
He grunted, and I could almost see the way his hard mouth fought against pulling into a grin.
We sat in our easy silence with the fire popping for several moments. When Casey didn’t elaborate any further, I took it as the conversation was closed for the time being.
“What time you wanna get started tomorrow?” I asked. The gym was coming along nicely. We had a lot of the big projects done, and I was thrilled with the way everything had come together. Having Casey leading the renovation had been an absolute god-send.
Casey yawned. “Right now, I want a shower and to sleep in.” He stretched. “But let’s grab coffee and breakfast at Glazed Buns, then we can get started.”
“Coffee and breakfast after a run, then we can get started.”
He grunted. “No run, just coffee.”
Chuckling, I bumped my knee against his. “Absolutely not. We can’t work all day on only coffee.”
“Fuckin’ hell. Yeah, fine. Run first, then breakfast. And two cups of coffee.”
“Deal.”
“Go ahead and grab a shower,” Casey said, his head resting on the back of his chair. “Gonna enjoy the night a little longer.” He played with the rubber band on his wrist.
“You good?”
“Yeah.”
A long pause.
He sighed. “Perfect night for a smoke.”
I raised a brow, not keen on leaving him outside on his own if the urge to light up was too much. I knew there was no alcohol in the apartment, but I wasn’t quite as sure about cigarettes.
“Been workin’ too damn hard to quit,” Casey grumbled. “Can’t say I miss my mouth tastin’ like an ashtray and the cost, but not gonna lie, fuckin’ miss the way a nice long drag washed over me like the perfect calm. I want a smoke, but it’s not the same need as it used to be.”
I must not have looked convinced because Casey huffed.
“Seriously, I don’t even have any on me, so it’s all good. Go take a damn shower. I’m a big boy, I can sit by the fire all by myself.” He cracked an eye as he spoke. “Just don’t use all the fuckin’ hot water.”