Casey
A s soon as I exit the library, I haul my butt down the stairs like the house is on fire because, oh. My. God. What was that?
I thought the elevator was a fluke—that I let my imagination runaway. I thought the same in there, but I couldn’t freaking breathe with him so close.
I really am over my crush, but a nun would give up her vows if he looked at her with those eyes. He is the definition of smolder. And he was more than looking at me.
But then, after I tried to get some space—some oxygen, he eliminated the distance and sucked every molecule of O2 out of the room as if he were a vacuum. Why does he suck all the air from a room?
Then what he did with the drink? And his thumb? And I’ve never been more confused. Or turned on.
I am proud that I walked out of there without making a fool of myself, with my head up, and never letting my walls drop. Besides, I probably made half of it up in my head.
When I step outside the house, the fresh air brings me to my senses. The arm brush had to be accidental. Feeding me that drink was probably some lesson I didn’t catch. Maybe proving to me I was being childish. Wiping away the drip was just him being considerate. He probably didn’t even think when he put his thumb in his mouth. It was just an automatic response to wiping away the spilled drink from my chin.
See what happens when you let your imagination run away, ?
But it proves that I need to keep my boundaries. I can’t allow those idle thoughts to take over. What would I do if he had a sudden change of heart about me, anyway?
The answer is simple. Nothing. Because he’s my stepbrother, and if I weren’t so caught up in teenage hormones and foolish ideas, I would’ve thought that years ago. Graham may have been the one who created the distance between us, but I was the one who needed it so I could gain perspective. That moment of recklessness was needed to redefine who we were to each other. It was a reminder that he’s not someone I could ever have.
I walk a few blocks before I cave and spend money I can’t afford on a taxi. I’m already late, but taking the subway from here would take too long. Though the streets of Manhattan are crowded, the restaurant I need to go to isn’t far. A car will get me there quicker. I hope.
A few more blocks, and I finally hail a cab. As soon as I’m settled, my mind rushes back to a few minutes ago. I try to push it away, aware fixating on it is the last thing I need, especially considering where I’m going, but I can’t seem to get his thumb brushing across my lips out of my mind. The way he caged me against the bar is replaying in vivid, 3D technicolor.
That felt… familiar. It reminded me of my eighteenth birthday.
We were attending some charity gala where people spent more on their attire than they donated. I didn’t want to go. The last thing I wanted to do was spend my birthday at some function, but as usual, I didn’t have a choice.
I spent most of the night with my boyfriend. Drake grumbled and complained most of the night about being bored, and I didn’t blame him. It was stuffy and boring, with people sipping champagne as they discussed business and the art that was to be auctioned.
Eventually, Drake led me out to the garden, pulling me to a dark, secluded area away from the main path where we made out. His hand fisted my hair as our tongues tangled, making me moan into his mouth. His other hand began tracing a path up my dress, softly stroking my thigh, but then he began heading toward the center, and I pulled away.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
I shook my head, pretending it was nothing. “Need to catch my breath.”
He smirked, dropping his head to my neck, licking a trail before catching my ear between his teeth. “You breathe,” he whispered. “I’ll do the rest.”
His hand moved again, a finger brushing the edge of my panties. I pushed his hand away, swallowing hard as my heart pounded in my ears. A deep growl rumbled in his chest as he glared at me with gritted teeth. “What’s the problem, ?”
“N-nothing. I j-just… We should slow down.”
His blue eyes turned glacial as he blew out a heavy breath. “If we went any slower, we’d be going in reverse. We’ve been going out for months, and you said we would do this when you turned eighteen. Well, happy birthday, baby. You’re eighteen today.”
He dove back in, groping, digging his fingers into my flesh, forcing my legs apart as he nipped at my neck. My airways constricted. It was too much, too fast, and too public. My hands went to his chest, trying to push him away. “Drake, please stop. Not here.” When his fingers brushed my covered center, I shoved harder. “Drake, I said stop. Please.” But he didn’t.
Tears sprung to my eyes, but before I could plead again, he was gone. A bone-cracking sound erupted in my ears as Graham punched Drake in the face. Then again. And again. Blood sprayed from his nose like a volcano, his mouth poured crimson. He cried out in pain, begging for it to end.
When I finally shook away my shock and grasped what was happening, I leaped from the bench, ran over, and grabbed Graham’s arm. “Stop!”
He turned toward me, eyes as dark as night, cold as steel, and filled with fury. It allowed Drake to scoot away and then climb to his feet. When he took off, I chased after him, worried he was hurt. No, I knew he was hurt.
I started to turn the corner when fingers gripped my elbow, pushing me into the dark corner against the stone wall of the building. “What are you doing?”
“I need to go check on him.” I tried to pull away from him, but it was pointless. He kept me pressed against the wall, refusing to let me go.
“You are not serious. , he was assaulting you.” He bellowed loudly, making me jump.
“No, he wasn’t. He’s my boyfriend, and you broke his nose.”
“Not anymore, he’s not. If he comes near you again, a broken nose will be the least of his worries.”
That pissed me off. Drake had gone too far. Pushed too hard. I wasn’t stupid. I knew what he did was wrong, but he was still my boyfriend, and my stepbrother just bashed his face. Intervening was one thing, but he didn’t have to hit him, much less so many times or so hard. And Graham didn’t get a say in who I dated. “Back off, Graham. I’m an adult as of today. I don’t need you trying to big brother me.”
His jaw clamped down as he ran his hand over his head. His dark eyes turned into an abyss, staring so deeply inside of me that I thought he could see my innermost thoughts, desires, and fears, all of which revolved around him. A shudder rippled through me, and my breath hitched. I tried once more to go around him, but he grabbed both my hands, pinning them at my side as he crowded me. A sheet of paper couldn’t fit between our bodies.
His nostrils flared as he bore those fathomless depths into my confused eyes. My heart thundered and skipped. He pressed his forehead against mine. I could hear his ragged breaths and feel the tension rolling off him. “You deserve better than that asshole.” His voice was low and rough as if he were fighting for control. Control of what I didn’t know. “You deserve everything, Sunflower. To be treated like a queen.”
My brows pitched low as I fought to keep my thoughts clear. To remember this was nothing more than him being protective, watching over me just like he’d always done. And remembering that triggered angry, irrational feelings. He spoke like I was special when I knew I wasn’t. I didn’t deserve any more than someone else.
I shoved his chest. “You have no idea what I deserve.” He couldn’t understand the burden I was on so many people. Or that Drake was right. I told him when I turned eighteen, we would have sex. I didn’t mean in the freaking garden at a charity gala, but still… “You shouldn’t have interfered.”
Rage flashed in his eyes. A muscle in his cheek twitched. Then he reached for my face, gripping my jaw in his hand, fingers digging firmly, but not painfully. “You deserve it all, . Do you understand me? The stars, the moon, the sun… it should be yours if you want them, and anyone that doesn’t give that to you is. Not. Good. Enough.” He moved closer. Our lips practically touched, and I stopped breathing. “I don’t give a single fuck if a man is balls deep and about to blow his fucking load. If you say stop, he fucking stops.” His chest heaved as his breath fanned across my face, smelling distinctively of Scotch and cinnamon, making my knees weak and my lashes flutter. A rough thumb brushed against my cheek as his eyes zeroed on my lips.
Then he stepped back and walked away, leaving me breathless, confused, and hurt because, once again, I let hope infect my heart.
I scrub my hands over my face and groan. It was the same thing in the library, but this time I knew better, right? I refuse to go down that path again. Besides, I moved on and let go of my childish crush on the one man I could never have.
And maybe Graham was teasing me. Intentionally trying to make me flustered and uncomfortable. In the past, he would never do that, but maybe I was right. Perhaps I don’t know him anymore. Or he is using my quirks against me as a deterrent.
Don’t worry, jackass, I know better now, but even if I didn’t, the message was clear in his reaction when I kissed him back then. And when he walked away from me after cornering me against the wall. Annnndddd avoiding me the past few years.
The cab driver looks at me through the rearview mirror, his green eyes curious, and I realize I’ve said all this out loud. Fortunately, he doesn’t remark on my odd behavior. I’m sure he’s seen much stranger things than a girl having an existential crisis.
And by the time we reach the diner, my face feels like it’s the color of tomatoes because I’m completely embarrassed about my neurotic behavior. I have to stay away from Graham. There are no other options because even if I don’t still feel like that toward him, he messes with my head.
Taking a deep breath, I climb from the cab and walk to the orange door, stepping aside when it opens as a couple exit the retro diner. I slip through the door before it closes and scan the bustling establishment, then find Dad sitting in a far corner booth. He glances at his watch, mouth twisting with impatience because I’m half an hour late. When he looks up, the scowl vanishes, and he waves me over with a big grin.
My steps are quick as I hurry over unremarkable beige tiles to the laminate-covered table. I place a quick kiss on my dad’s cheek, then slide onto the vinyl bench across from him. “Sorry, I’m late.”
“What held you up?” He hands me a menu despite knowing what I’ll order. It hasn’t changed once in the four years we’ve been coming here. It’s as predictable as the meetings themselves.
My thoughts immediately go to Graham. Does Dad know that’s where he’s staying? Suspect that’s why I’m late? A trickle of sweat beads at my temple, but before I can answer, a waitress asks for our drink orders. I order water as usual while Dad orders iced tea, then we tell her what we want to eat. When she leaves, Dad leans onto the table, his hands folded in front of him with concern in his eyes. “Did you run into your Mom?”
Mom. Of course, that’s what he meant. Why would his mind go to Graham? “No. She wasn’t there. I called the housekeeper before I went over.” The waitress drops our food off, and I dive into the totally bad for me and goes against my diet double bacon cheeseburger. But considering my diet is screwed anyway since ramen isn’t exactly a key part of a dancer’s menu, I indulge. The moment I bite into the massive burger, my eyes roll back in my head. I feel like I haven’t eaten in months. If it weren’t for these dates with Dad, I’d wither away to nothing. Top Ramen isn’t exactly keeping the pounds on. On the plus side, I’m not struggling to keep the weight off, so on the rare occasion I get cast with a guy tall enough, I’m a breeze to lift.
“It’s not running away, Case.” On the other hand, Dad watching me shove the burger in my mouth like I haven’t eaten in weeks will raise questions. I don’t need him to find out my food budget is nonexistent.
I swallow what’s in my mouth and wash it down with my ice water. “I didn’t have time for lunch today.” Not a lie. I had class this morning since I took a couple of summer classes. I also taught a group of four-year-old ballerinas, and I had a dance lesson of my own. Not to mention, Ramen isn’t exactly a convenient meal unless you eat it dry, and I haven’t gotten that desperate yet.
He sets his elbow on the table and rests his head against his fist. His eyes, bright blue instead of dark like mine, stare at me for several seconds until I squirm. “Why do I always feel you’re keeping things from me, Case?”
Because I am.
Protecting him from more heartbreak has always been my priority. The need to not be a source of worry and concern gets me out of bed every day, even when opening my eyes is exhausting. It’s also why, despite wanting to die that rainy night, I’ve never tried again. The look of anguish on my dad’s face when I opened my eyes was too much. I never want to hurt him like that again. “You said I’m entitled to my privacy and secrets.”
He rubs his large hand over his face, then blows out a heavy breath as he leans back against the bench, running his hand through his hair. “You are. I told you we are all entitled to our privacy and secrets as long as it doesn’t affect someone else.” I stick my straw between my lips so he doesn’t notice the guilt, I’m sure, flashes on my face. “You’re twenty years old, so I can’t pull the Dad card like I did before.” His arms stretch across the bench as his eyes search me. “I’m not sure it worked then, either.” He lifts a brow, daring me to contradict him. My lips press together, and my eyes drop to my plate as I grab a crispy French fry and drag it through the ketchup. He makes a knowing sound and huffs. “You’ve always been quiet. It just feels like there’s a lot you don’t tell me, but you need to promise me something.”
I look at him from beneath my lashes, my cheeks heated with guilt and regret. “Anything, Dad,” I croak.
“If it gets bad like that again, you will say something.”
Fire erupts behind my eyes. I squeeze them shut, trying to stop the onslaught of tears, but one escapes anyway. “I’m sorry, Daddy.” I duck my head, too ashamed to look at him.
Warm comfort grips my chin, tilting my head until I meet his eyes. “You don’t have anything to be sorry for, bear. If I had been around more…”
I shake my head, and more tears spill from my lashes. “You were there as much as you could be. You were there for everything important, and when I needed you most. No one could ask for a better dad.” His eyes glisten, and his head falls back. He scrubs his face roughly, then looks at me again and nods. “Dad, if this is about Graham…”
“I’m the one who asked him to watch out for you, . I should’ve realized the effect it would have on you.”
“No. That’s not on you. I was just a kid. And you don’t need to worry now.” I reach across the table and grab his hand. “I promise, Dad. Graham isn’t a problem.” I hesitate a moment, then ask what I’ve been wanting to know for nearly two weeks. “You knew he was coming back, didn’t you?”
“Yes.”
“And you didn’t tell me?”
“Right, again.”
If I expected an explanation, apology, or even a twinge of regret to cross his features, I don’t get it.
“You should’ve told me, Dad.” A warning would’ve been nice. Especially if it meant not running into him after two years in another epic meltdown.
“Why?” Dad’s brows arch. “If I had my way, you still wouldn’t know.”
“Dad,” I scold, a little exasperated and a little remorseful.
“, I don’t dislike him. I don’t blame him either, but he’s the reason we are sitting here right now. He’s the reason, grown or not, I won’t budge on these dates.”
My head drops, and I sigh. “You have nothing to worry about, Dad.”
That lie will haunt me forever. But it’s better than the alternative.
“Is he why you were late?”
And there it is. He may not know for sure where Graham is currently living, but he suspects. And I shake my head, another lie spilling easily from my lips. “No. I was having fun with Noah.”
“I’m glad you go see him, Case.”
I breathe out a soft sigh, relieved that he accepts my half-truth without question. “He’s too adorable for words.” I smile, thinking about my six-month-old baby brother with his pretty green eyes and dark curls. My mom was a terrible mother to me, and even though I don’t blame her, I won’t let her do that to him if I can help it. However, there is a real possibility she will be out of his life for a while in the very near future. I haven’t asked what will happen if she goes to jail. I can’t because I need to think this through with a clear head. My mom must be punished for what she did to my dad. I just hope Noah doesn’t suffer because of it. What I do know is he’ll always have me on his side.
Dad tilts his head to the side, a cheesy grin spreading across his scruffy face. “You are a good kid, sweetheart. I’m not sure how you turned out so beautiful, but I am proud as hell.”
I duck my head, hiding my blush—and my guilt because good kids don’t lie as easily as they breathe. “Thanks, Dad,” I whisper, my voice cracking a bit.
He says he doesn’t know, but he’s the reason. He doesn’t give himself enough credit and beats himself up for not being able to be there every second of my life. But I never felt less than everything to him. He made me his priority and his world. When most guys would’ve been worried about pimples and prom dates, my dad was raising me. I may have been an accident, but he never made me feel like he thought I was a mistake.
The hard and awkward topics fade away, and we spend the rest of our meal chatting about nothing important. We just spend time together.
These dates may have been started as an act of desperation and fear, but they’ve become my favorite part of the week. They’re the reminder I need—the motivation to keep pushing forward.
Even on the days that are hard. On the days when the panic makes breathing hard and opening my eyes is unbearable.