Casey
O nce upon a time, there was a little girl who loved her dad more than life itself. Then, one day, her mom packed her up and told the girl they were leaving. The dad pretended to be tough, but as the little girl cried in his arms, she knew she heard him crying, too. The mom demanded the little girl stop crying because they had to go, so the dad let go of her, promising he would see her soon.
That little girl was me, and my dad couldn’t keep his promise.
My mom claimed my dad was abusive. She told the court he was an addict and an alcoholic who was violent, assaulting her both physically and sexually in volatile outbursts. She even told them he hurt me.
None of it was true.
My dad tried to argue that it was a lie, and I tried to tell them the same, but no one would listen to us. Dad had a small-time, two-hundred-dollar-an-hour attorney fighting against Maxwell Davis’s team of high-powered attorneys.
For three years, the only way I could see Dad was through supervised visits or when I stayed with my grandparents over the summer. More often than not, those monthly visits were missed because he was on the road to pay the court-ordered child support that was so high that he could barely afford rent afterward, and he was seldom free for more than a week during those summers in Kentucky.
But every time we saw each other again, we’d cling to each other. Dad would hug me as if he thought I’d disappear, and I would beg him to take me with him when it was time to go. I know the request broke him because he was helpless to do anything. Not that he didn’t try. Every spare penny he had went toward fighting the endless battle.
When the supervised visitation was lifted, Dad was awarded joint custody. I was so happy I could finally see him more often, but when we got home that day, Mom was quick to snatch me away, digging her nails into my arm before tossing me across my room. She told me not to get too excited because Maxwell would make sure Dad stayed too busy to see me and that Dad couldn’t quit because then he couldn’t pay child support. Either way, she won because if he couldn’t pay, he’d be put in jail.
That became a constant threat over the years. She trained me well. I never told Dad about her verbal or physical abuse. I became a pro at hiding the bruises and wearing a smile.
The worst part of it all, is I never blamed my mom because she was right. I was the reason her life didn’t go as planned. If not for me, she and my dad would’ve led very different lives. They were teenagers who shouldn’t have been forced to have me, but Mom said her parents, though absent themselves, wouldn’t let her get rid of me under any circumstances. I can’t even guess their reasoning. I haven’t seen them since I was four, despite them living in the same town as my dad’s parents.
Dad said he never even thought about it, but I’m sure that’s not true. They were fifteen when they found out. Days after I was born, Dad was taking his driver’s test. If they hadn’t been forced to have me and then raise me, their lives would’ve been much easier. Better.
During the time I couldn’t see Dad, Graham was a godsend. He didn’t come around often, but every time he did, he made certain to spend time with Jagger and me. Often, he’d bring his girlfriends, and most of them treated me like I was their doll. I soaked up every bit of the attention, wishing it would never end and holding to the memories when Mom would go on her next anger-fueled tirade.
Then, one day, when I was fourteen, Graham caught my mom. Fortunately, he only heard her words, and his presence stopped her before she became violent, though his interference meant I paid later. When my mother left the room, I begged him to keep quiet. I could survive all the verbal and physical lashings as long as I could see my dad. I’m not sure why he agreed, but I think it was because he knew the same thing I did. No matter what I said, we both knew my mom was an expert at twisting the truth to fit her narrative, and my dad could not compete with Maxwell’s lawyers.
I also think maybe Graham was afraid of the backlash I would take if we failed, as well.
So his visits became more frequent. I had a hero. And with that came a crush that grew and grew until one fateful night, in a rare moment of boldness, I crossed a line.
His rejection embarrassed my already fragile heart after the berating I’d just taken from my mother—the same flaying he’d rescued me from moments earlier—so I ran into the country club where the party for Maxwell’s fiftieth birthday was being hosted, hoping to find a vacant room to hide away in my humiliation. But in my search, every piece of my soul shattered.
I came upon a room I hoped was empty and eased the door open. The lights were low, so I thought it was safe until I heard voices. It took less than a second to realize it was my mother, but the other voice I didn’t know. I started to sneak out, hoping to go unseen, until I realized they were talking about me.
“Your daughter is beautiful.” An accented male voice said.
“If you say so. I can’t imagine what you see in her, but if you want her, maybe we can come to an arrangement.”
“Are you suggesting what I think you are?” The man didn’t sound appalled. Just a bit surprised.
“That little bitch ruined my life. I only keep her around to keep her father coming back when I snap my fingers. He’s a loser, but he’s an excellent fuck. I dangle her to ensure he does what I want.”
“You’re a heartless woman, Krista.” The man’s chuckle sent chills down my spine.
“Does that mean you’re interested?”
I slipped from the room, gasping for air as tears streamed down my face as if a dam had broken. I ran as fast as I could toward the main entrance. Outside, I ransacked the valet station, grabbed the first set of keys I found, and took off for the parking lot.
It took a minute, but I found the vehicle, climbed in, and took off, ignoring the shouts and screams behind me.
I peeled out of the property and turned onto the highway, going faster with every mile. Tears blurred my vision, and soon after, rain blurred the windshield as I raced down the empty, dark highway with no clue where I was going. My chest heaved with heavy, tortured sobs as my heart splintered and shattered into a million pieces.
Two weeks later, I opened my eyes and met my dad and my uncle’s bloodshot, worried gazes. Each on either side of my hospital bed, holding my hands. When Dad realized my eyes were open, his head fell onto the bed, and he sobbed. Uncle Henry stood up and walked away, his hands laced on top of his head as it fell back, but I could tell he was crying, too. They looked exhausted, and I was once again the cause of their stress.
After the doctors checked over me and determined I was okay, telling me I was in an accident, Dad and Uncle Henry stood over me with crossed arms, tears dried, looking more furious than I’d ever seen either of them. Instead, they both hugged me tight, then they told me they knew it wasn’t an accident—Uncle Henry spent hours checking out the scene in seemed.
When they asked why I did it, I knew I couldn’t tell them the truth. I knew if either of them knew what I overheard, they would kill my mom. It would mean more sacrifices and suffering because of me. So I said the only thing I could think of.
“Graham.”
I’ve never regretted telling them it was a crushed heart caused by unrequited love more than I do at this moment as I step out of Dad’s office straight into the arms of my newly returned stepbrother. Because I know my dad’s reaction will not be great.
Graham’s hands wrap around me to keep me upright, and I hate that my heart skips from the contact. “It seems you’ve developed a habit of running into me, Sunflower.” His smirk makes my belly swoop.
I step back, glancing quickly over my shoulder at my dad’s door before looking at the floor. “S-sorry,” I mutter, wondering if it would look weird if I took off.
“No hug?” His arms stretch wide, and I automatically step forward into his embrace. My entire body is rigid when they wrap around me, but then I relax, inhaling the cardamon, vanilla, and rum, a scent I’ve associated with him for as long as I can remember. Why does he have to feel like home? “I’ve missed you, Sunflower.”
As soon as he says the words, my muscles tense all over again because he’s the one who put so much distance between us. He cut me off and out of his life without thinking twice, and my impulsiveness is the reason. I wish he wouldn’t say things like that. But I also wish my stupid heart wouldn’t flutter when he does.
Then the sound of Dad clearing his throat makes me jump back until there’s a few feet between us, and guilt seizes my stomach, twisting it into knots that almost double me over. Dad glares at Graham, and I can see Graham stiffening, his eyes turning suspicious, curious… and offensive.
My muscles twitch as my eyes dart toward the elevator. It would definitely be weird, but I would be away from this awkwardness.
“Graham.” Dad’s hand extends, and Graham accepts it after the slightest hesitation.
“Liam. Good to see you again.” Neither of them appears sincere.
I hate it because, while Dad doesn’t blame Graham for what I did, he doesn’t want me around him. I can’t fault him. Of course, I can’t when he thinks Graham’s the reason I ran the car off the road.
Graham, on the other hand, has no clue. He believes it was an accident like everyone else. But he’s sharp. He recognizes the tension emanating from Dad, and he’s reacting to it.
When he turns his attention to me, my entire body feels like it’s consumed by flames. “, we need to have lunch one day and catch up.”
My eyes shift quickly to Dad, whose entire demeanor is stiff and tense. His shoulders are rigid and tight, his eyes sharp as they dart between us, and his jaw clenches, the muscles ticking. You can feel the protective energy radiating from him.
I swallow hard and give a quick nod. “Um-yeah. Sure.” I don’t mean it, but I don’t know how to refuse without raising questions. Graham will want answers, and Dad will tell him. Then I’ll have to stand here and lie some more, knowing it will hurt Graham. Or tell the truth and hurt my dad.
Either way, I am screwed.
“Don’t you need to go before you’re late for class?” Dad interjects.
Keeping a straight face through this entire ordeal is hard. I’ve gotten pretty good at hiding things from people after years and years of practice, but right now, I feel like I’m failing. I know my discomfort is showing. I can feel how hot my face is. My palms sweat like a hooker at confession. “Yeah, I-uh…” I hitch a thumb toward the elevators. “I’m going to go.”
“I’ll walk you out,” Graham says, and I don’t even have to look to know Dad’s reaction. It’s hard not to notice a six-foot-six body standing taller.
He opens his mouth to say something, but someone calls his name. His jaw locks, the muscles flexing as he looks between us. Then he grabs me, pulling me into his chest, and resting his cheek on top of my head. “We agreed you’d stay clear of him,” he whispers.
I nod because I did make that promise, even though I haven’t had to do anything. Graham has stayed away all on his own.
Dad squeezes me tighter, then turns toward where he’s needed.
I offer Graham a wan smile when he gestures for the elevators. We walk down the corridor, passing the executive offices in silence. My eyes dart around, staring at the floor, the walls… anywhere and everywhere but at Graham as we wait for an elevator.
The doors slide open, and I prepare myself for a long trip down in awkward silence as I stand as far away from him as possible and keep my gaze on the floor.
But I should’ve known it wouldn’t be that easy.
“How are you since Friday? After everything with your mom?”
My shoulders lift because the truth is I don’t know how I am. I knew it would happen, and I still chose to be there. I’ve been struggling if I’m honest, but I’ve also been trying hard not to think about it. To think about the fact, I knew she was getting arrested that night and said nothing because I understand she more than deserves it. She ran my dad over with her freaking car. He could’ve died. Lily could’ve died because Dad is certain she was aiming for her. As much as I hate to admit it, it’s probably the truth.
Yet, I feel like an awful daughter for not telling her. I feel like an even worse daughter for choosing to be there when it happened because I wanted to support my best friend. If I hadn’t gone, I would’ve missed Dad proposing to her, and as weird as it is, I didn’t want to miss it. If I’d just stayed home, I wouldn’t have had that awful confrontation with her where she accused me of betraying her.
I also wouldn’t have run into Graham, and I haven’t decided if that would’ve been better or not.
Graham hums to himself for a second, and I can feel his dark gaze burning into me. “Why do I get the feeling you’d rather be anywhere than around me?” Right to the point. I’m not surprised, but I wish he wasn’t so… blunt.
And how do I answer that? Every answer feels like a lie. Even if I told him it was true, it wouldn’t be. So maybe I tell him as much of the truth as I can.
“I’m not comfortable around strangers.” It’s not exactly untrue. He and I haven’t been the same since the kiss. I’m sure he’s changed a lot over the years. I know I have.
“Strangers, huh? We might be a lot of things, Sunflower, but strangers isn’t one of them.” I gasp when he’s suddenly right in front of me with my chin between his fingers, forcing my head up, but my eyes still look anywhere but at him, too afraid the electricity I felt zing through my entire body at his touch will show on my face. “Look at me.” God, I don’t want to, but for reasons I can’t explain, my eyes slowly meet his without my consent. My pulse thunders, and I wonder if he can see. I don’t remember him ever invading my personal space quite like this. When I stare into his warm depths, I almost forget to breathe. I forgot about the gold flecks that glitter in his chocolate irises. “What’s going on, Case?”
“N-nothing.” I chew my cheek, then sigh. Sell this, . “Strangers is the wrong word in the traditional sense. But we don’t know each other anymore. Not really.”
“You think I don’t know you?” His mouth pulls down, but he doesn’t seem angry. Sad, maybe, and it makes my heart ache. There was a time when I felt like Graham was my only friend. I didn’t care that he was a grownup, and I was a kid. I know he only saw me as a kid, but he didn’t treat me like one. With Graham, I never felt like a burden.
He treated me like what I thought, felt, and said was important. He made me feel like I mattered, and not because he had to. That was a fact I clung to. He may have been my stepbrother, but he didn’t have to spend time with me or watch out for me.
At least that’s what I thought at the time. As I got older, I realized even that assumption was incorrect.
“Of course, you don’t. You knew a little girl. I don’t know you either. I never did. I only knew what little bits you let me see.” I lift a shoulder and smile even though saying the words feels wrong. Not a lie, but not the truth. “It’s okay, though. You don’t have to play big brother to the little sister you didn’t ask for anymore.”
“Right.” He steps back, clasping a hand behind his neck, rubbing absently. “Then let’s fix that. Go to lunch with me. We can reminisce about old times, and you can bring me up to date about what’s new with you.” His eyes are full of regret and hope. As if he’s made some error and wants to correct his mistake. But he didn’t. He never did anything wrong. I don’t want him to feel guilty. In some ways, that’s worse than him just seeing me as his sister. I never want him to feel the need to keep a relationship with me out of obligation. He did that long enough.
And even if he wasn’t the reason behind my incident , my fixation with him was unhealthy. I can’t revert to hoping he will see me. Especially when it doesn’t matter if he does. He’s my stepbrother, and nothing could ever come of it. And Dad would totally lose his shit.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” The elevator doors open, and I step out. Then, somehow, instead of running like I want, I find the courage to turn around and face him. “I don’t blame you for avoiding me all this time. I know I crossed a line, and you had to protect yourself. You were a great big brother before that night, and I needed it, but I’m not a kid anymore. Any. guilt you’re trying to alleviate, don’t. You have no reason to feel guilty.” With that, I spin around and let my legs carry me out of there with my head high.
And I feel his eyes burning into me the entire way.