4
"The One"
Backstreet Boys
Get it right? Get it right? Get what right? Her priorities? Her brain? What…?
That girl was going to be the death of him—that is, if he didn't kill her first himself.
Of course he'd gone and blown her little crisis out of the water with his parting statement by bringing up something that had been successfully stashed away for over four years, and when he'd gotten back from his date with Angela—was it Angela? Abigail? Anna? Andrea?—she was just studying at the dinner table as if nothing had happened. Of course, she was only fooling herself because the entire apartment was just pristine, and the whole of Canada knew that when Cassandra Diana McDonald freaked out, she either cleaned the shit out of things or wound up a heaping mess of tears and snot on her bed. And of course, the whole of Canada also knew that Derek Aaron Venturi did not do tears, so he was pretty thankful she went with the cleaning option. And sure enough, the counters were sparkling, he could see his reflection on the metallic surface of the fridge, and the vacuum lines on the carpet were in perfect, even rows.
Predictable.
However what wasn't predictable was the fact that she was just full-on ignoring him. Oh, sure, yeah, she still cooked dinner and washed his laundry (and dumped it on the bed as soon as they were dry), but she never said a word to him aside from "excuse me" when he was in her way and "bless you" whenever he sneezed.
It pissed him off.
He thought she'd just blow it off and not even acknowledge the offhand comment because that's what Casey normally did when something happened that she didn't like, couldn't change, and couldn't do anything about. She ignored it and hoped it would pass with enough meditation and denial. But no! She took it an entirely new step further and gave him the silent treatment.
And it wasn't as if what he'd said was offensive in any way! It was just an observation of the pattern of her boyfriends, for God's sake! It's not like she had any legitimate reason to get mad at him.
So three days later, when he turned all the clocks in the apartment fifteen minutes later, she didn't even yell at him when she came home that night after being late to her first class—one of her biggest pet peeves. She didn't even yell at him. Nothing. Even when he purposefully smacked into her in the kitchen—just to cause some sort of explosive reaction—she apologized and went back to doing the dishes. She apologized as if it had been her fault.
He wanted to grab her and scream, "CASEY! WHAT IN THE HELL IS YOUR PROBLEM?" But he knew that would just make things worse. She'd stop making him food… So he just left for practice in a quiet fury.
Which is probably why he accidentally slapped the puck so hard that it rebounded off the middle of Reiser Vera's helmet and pegged Quill Mortensen right on the cheek so hard that he slipped on the ice and fell on his back.
"WHAT IN THE HELL DID THE PUCK DO TO YOU, VENTURI?" Overton roared from where the heavyset American coach had been leaning against one of the boards.
Derek just grumbled to himself as he helped Quill up from the ice and glared at Travis Orsino, who was flat on the ice, laughing his ass off.
Quill patted him on the back and gingerly touched the rapidly-forming bruise on his left cheek with a shrug. "It's fine, dude."
And for the rest of practice, it had been fine. He hadn't decapitated anyone or injured anyone in any way again. He hadn't gotten yelled at. He hadn't gotten distracted again. And no one said anything about it.
Of course, he should've known they were just saving it up for the locker room.
"Hey, Quill," Derek called from one side of the aisle, "sorry again, man."
"It's cool, D," Quill said with a good-natured grin. "Just make sure you sort it out with Casey, eh?"
Derek actually felt the blood rush up his face—as if filling up a water bottle straight from the tap.
"What?" he managed to ask nonchalantly, but none of the guys were having it.
"Oh, come on, Derek," Caleb Winters, the team captain said, as he emerged from the showers in a towel. "The only reason you ever get pissed is 'cause of her. Two weeks ago, you were slamming your shit around and throwing your crap all over the place 'cause Casey didn't come to that extended practice to bring you dinner like she'd promised."
"And then a day after that, you nearly broke your locker 'cause you were pissed at yourself for yelling at her and making her cry before finding out she'd twisted her ankle and her phone was dead because you accidentally brought her charger," Michael Somers pitched in.
Derek winced and twisted the jersey in his hands a little tighter because that shit was still fresh. He felt horrible for that.
"A week after that, you were pissed 'cause she went on a date with some guy from your old high school who was coming up to visit," Jensen Campbell added as he passed Derek's bench on the way to his locker.
"And you were even more pissed the next day 'cause I'm guessing you found out he was cheating on her again," Jared Singer finished from right behind Derek.
Derek frowned at his older teammate. "How in the hell did you know about that?"
"You threw a soap bar at the wall and growled about her taking back a cheating bastard," Frank Baez volunteered flatly.
"See? Casey's always the common denominator when it comes to you, D," Caleb concluded. He elbowed the shirtless player standing next to him and asked, "Am I right or am I right, Sam?"
Derek locked eyes with his best friend—his best buddy since they'd been in diapers—and tried to telepathically communicate that if he said "yes," their eighteen-year relationship would be in some serious jeopardy.
"He gets mad 'cause of other people too," Sam answered loyally, nervously wringing his t-shirt.
See? That's why they were—
"Like the other guys she dates and the girls that are mean to her."
—no longer friends.
"Derek! Don't you dare hit me with that!" Sam cried, ducking away from where Derek had jumped to his feet and hefted his hockey stick.
He had to fix this. Laughing with him was good; laughing at him was unspeakable. It'd been this way for years, and it must remain so.
"Oh, really?" he shot back suddenly, still brandishing his hockey stick. "What if I'm just pissed at Reiser?"
"WHAT?" the goalie barked defensively from the other side of the locker room. "What did I do?"
Derek sighed in defeat, leaned his stick against his locker, and sat back down as the guys just dissolved into laughter again. He'd really been hoping that college guys would just be stupider, more annoying versions of high school guys because high school guys were easy to manipulate. But no. Being on the hockey team meant having high marks and rigid disciplines so that meant they were smarter and therefore infinitely more annoying versions of high school guys.
Jason Tomason patted him on the back consolingly. "Face it, Venturi," he said, shrugging sympathetically. "You got it, and you got it bad."
"I don't got anything," Derek growled through his teeth as the others continued to chuckle.
"What's your problem, dude?" BJ Wake finally demanded in disbelief. "She's gorgeous, brilliant, and free as a bird—what more do you need?"
"Beej, I think you forgot one little thing," Ryne Lorne chortled darkly, poking his head out from around the other aisle to smirk at Derek. "They're related."
Many of the guys ooh'ed as Derek scowled.
"Come on, that's just bull," Ian Rosen called out from another area of the locker room. "The only thing that really matters if whether there's no blood relation, Lorne."
"Yeah," BJ agreed. "There's no law against it since they don't share any blood and they haven't been adopted by each other's parents—right, D?"
"You can't adopt a stepchild if both their parents are alive, and Derek's mom and Casey's dad are still alive," Ian pointed out.
Derek seriously started to worry about how much these guys knew about him…
"But there's still a stigma, guys," Gabe Nguyen said meaningfully. "It happens all the time, nowadays, but the social repercussions are pretty harsh. And it doesn't help that they've both got younger sibs and a half-brother on the way—right, D?"
This was creeping him out. He did not remember telling them any of this. Did they do a background check on him and pass it around the team like a memo or something? Gotta look up the fresh meat?
"Not that I got anything against stepsib relationships," Gabe continued, sounding every bit the wise, level-headed Asian that he'd cemented his status as, "but when you factor in the new baby who's practically half-Derek, half-Casey already… It's gonna get weird for his fam."
"And it's easy for us to say that there's no blood relation and everything," Asiel Velez added. "We're not in the situation. You nitwits try being stuck with a sexy-ass stepsister. You wouldn't be jumping at the chance either. It's complicated."
"But the point is that you're here, Derek," Caleb said, whacking Derek with his wet towel after pulling his pants on. "Your family, on the other hand, is in London. If you want Casey, you should go for it while you still can. Test the waters, you know?"
"That way if things go south, no one in your fam will be the wiser, and you two can come to some mutual agreement that shit will not be spoken about so your relationship won't get all weird," Jason added.
Derek scowled momentarily, glaring at the inside of his locker from where he sat on the wooden bench. He and Casey were more than familiar with mutual agreements about shit that would not be spoken about in order to keep relationships from going weird. They'd been doing that type of thing since the very beginning.
"Yeah, and it's not like we'd call you out on it here," Jared said good-naturedly. "We're practically the only ones who know y'all are steps anyway."
"Not that you should care what the hell we think to begin with," Jensen pointed out blandly. "We're all apparently gossiping old ladies. Where's the yarn, Somers? I gotta go knit something."
"Hey, Sam, didn't you date Casey before?" Ryne suddenly hollered.
The entire locker room fell silent. Derek's eye twitched, and he refused to look up from where he'd fixed his eyes on the paint peeling from the metal of his locker door.
Sam flushed a brilliant red and ruffled his sandy-blonde hair nervously, glancing back and forth between the senior players around him. "Uh, yeah. Yeah, we did."
"And you and D are best friends, right?" Ryne continued. "How do you feel 'bout all this?"
"I-I-I think it makes sense," Sam answered.
Though his voice wavered, his tone was certain, and Derek lifted his head to stare straight at his best friend. He had to be kidding or saying this for appearances…
Sam met his gaze and smiled a little bit. "I mean, it's like I watched you guys over the years, and I thought it was just typical s-sibling rivalry and stuff…but now that you guys keep ragging on him and making all these arguments. Like, I-I see it. Just had to put on a different pair of glasses, you know? Now it makes sense."
"So you're all for it?" Ryne persisted, garnering a punch to the shoulder from Caleb. "What? I'm just asking." He turned back to Sam and cocked an eyebrow. "Well? No hard feelings and shit? No, uh, bro code?"
Derek blanched, remembering how he had pulled the male code card all those years ago.
Sam looked back at Derek and shrugged again. "I mean, it's gonna be a little weird, but all things considered, it's really not gonna be that bad. I'm not gonna stop it. Casey and I ended things years ago; I got no hard feelings."
Derek was going to have to find him the most kickass birthday present.
"But you guys, you missed one crucial little point," Noah Waterman called out over the locker room din.
Jensen snorted. "Really? The way y'all been talking about it makes me think you covered all the bases."
Noah scowled at his fellow junior before turning to address Derek. "Do you actually want her?"
Well, that was new. No one had actually flat-out asked him and waited for a yes or no answer. They all just sort of read between the lines and made their assumptions. Correct assumptions, of course, but assumptions nonetheless.
But he wasn't going to give them the satisfaction. So in typical Derek fashion, he deflected the question and said, "Frankly, the only thing that actually matters is whether or not she'd want me back even if I wanted her."
Jared shrugged. "Well, he's got a point there."
"And she's having some sort of crisis anyway," Derek added, standing up and shoving his clothes into his bag. "Thinks she's got shitty taste in guys—"
"Ouch," Sam muttered, grimacing.
"Except you, buddy," Derek amended and then continued, "And now she had this meltdown about it, saying she probably needs to join a convent before she accidentally gets involved with a serial killer or a rapist."
"Dude, that'd be such a waste," Reiser said, wincing. "Not the creeper serial killer thing—I mean the convent shit."
Derek chuckled bitterly. "That's what I said."
"Then why in the hell haven't you nailed that ass yet?" Ryne demanded, throwing his hands up in frustration.
He received a sharp smack to the back of the head, courtesy of Caleb since Derek was too far away to punch his teammate.
"Don't," Derek growled through his teeth.
Ryne held a hand to the back of his head and the other up in surrender. "Just make sure you claim that girl before some other guy decides to make a move, Venturi."
Derek glared at him. "That a threat, Lorne?"
Ryne shrugged carelessly, slamming his locker shut and hefting his bag over his shoulder. "It's a word of warning, dumbass. She ain't gonna wait for you forever."
"That depends on whether or not she even wants him at all," Jensen deadpanned.
"Come on, guys," Quill said, finally speaking up again. "We're talking about him like he's not even here."
"Yeah, and it's like y'all are talkin' about him like you're a bunch of GIRLS!" Overton barked from the doorway of his adjacent office. "Can y'all just wrap up this little sleepover and get the hell out? I can't concentrate with y'all's babblin'!"
Some of the guys chortled and someone turned on the radio. Derek was about to turn back to his locker when he felt a meaty, calloused hand wrap around the back of his neck, and he flinched, knowing exactly who it was. This American coach was loud and abrasive, but dear God almighty, the man was a ninja. How he managed move ten feet without Derek even noticing was just scary.
"You done with your little Casey episode, Venturi?" Overton growled almost inaudibly, bowing his head close to Derek's. "I'd hate to hear that you made her cry again."
Derek looked up to meet the narrow-eyed gaze of his coach and gently shrugged away from the older man's grip. "It's fine, Coach. I didn't actually do anything to her this time. She's just…dealing with stuff."
Overton's eyes got even narrower, but he jerked his head as if flicking off the situation and then sighed. "Just…watch yourself, Venturi. In my career, I've seen this kind of thing a million times. You can't compartmentalize your issues, kid. Take a holistic point of view to your game—if somethin's wrong, it's gonna reflect on your performance."
"I know, Coach," Derek said as respectfully and dismissingly as he could.
Overton smacked him on the back before turning and walking back to his office, where he slammed the door shut so hard that the lockers rattled.
Derek heaved a deep breath and stood back up to finish packing when all of a sudden, he heard, "I'll be the ooone…"
"D! D, it's your song!" Travis crowed with a huge grin on his face as he skidded to view at the other end of the bench Derek was standing by, waving around his t-shirt and doing the running man to the song.
"My song?" Derek demanded as they all stared at the dancing sophomore in disbelief.
Travis suddenly turned to point at Derek as he belted out, "I guess she was lost when she met you—"
Raphael Cordova covered his face in disgust as the guys started to either laugh or shake their heads in disbelief. "Dude, you are not modifying the lyrics to fit Derek and Casey."
"I don't know who should be more embarrassed—Travis for knowing the song and actually looking like he likes it," Ian muttered disappointedly, leaning against his locker. Then he turned to Raphael, "or you for knowing the lyrics enough to realize he's changing it."
"Four older sisters who're in love with Brian Littrell, man! Every Orsino can belt this song out like it's nobody's business!" Travis barked before jumping right back into the song, "—no more them mysteries and lieees. There she was! Wild and free! Reaching out like she needed D!"
"My God, kid, you took too many slapshots to the head in high school, didn't you?" Caleb sighed despondently.
"A helping haaaand to make it riiight; you'll be holding her all through the niiiight!"
"ORSINO, GET A GRIP!" Derek cried in frustration.
"Oh, come on, D!" BJ laughed, bobbing his head to the music. "If you listen to the lyrics, it totally fits! It's your song, man!"
"No, it's really not," Derek insisted.
"You'll be the one—you'll be the oooone—who will make all her sorrows undooone," Travis sang as he danced around in circles and mimed the lyrics, even going so far as to leap up onto the bench and strut up and down. "You'll be the light—you'll be the liiiight—when she feels like there's nowhere to ruuuun. You'll be the one to hold her and make sure that she'll be all right. 'Cause your fear is gooone, and you waaant toooo take her from darkness to the liiiiight!"
The remaining guys in the locker room either finally gave into their laughter or joined in on the singing and dancing. The fact that it wasn't just Travis and Raphael who knew the lyrics was seriously disturbing. Only Sam and Ian were standing there, standing around unaffectedly and watching the show with small smirks and the occasional chuckle.
Derek wanted to shove their skates down their throats…right after he ripped off the heads of the rest of his teammates.
He honestly couldn't understand why he was so pissed. He'd been the one to plan on changing his relationship with Casey so that they could be something more, but here he was feeling embarrassed as hell. Well, it was kinda understandable. His freaking teammates were making fun of him, but still.
He was Derek Venturi. He was supposed to twist this whole thing to his benefit and to someone else's chagrin. But all he could think of was how irritatingly appropriate this song really was. Whomever wrote those damn lyrics should be burned at stake.
"Come on, D! Get that stick outta your ass!" Reiser laughed. "Hakuna matata, man!"
Suddenly, Travis stopped on the bench in front of Derek and bent down to full-on serenade him. Derek had to slap his hands away as the older boy reached out to stroke his face. "You need her like she needs youuuu—y'all can share your dreams comin' truuue. You can show Case what truuue looove means; just take her hand, Derek, pleeeeeeeeeease."
Derek beseeching turned to look at Overton's window, hoping the irritable coach would come to his rescue and admonish his lunatic hockey players, but the blinds were shut and the door adamantly remained shut. He would be of no help.
"You'll be the one, you'll be the light where she can run to make it all right. You'll be the one, you'll be the light where she can run—you'll be the one—"
"SHUT IT OFF!" Jensen suddenly roared, scaring them all halfway to hell.
All eyes shifted to stare at where hazel-eyed junior was standing at the entrance—right beside a pretty brunette with electric blue eyes.
"Case?" Derek spoke, immediately registering the expression on her face.
He dropped what he was holding, pushed Travis out of the way, and shouldered his way between the guys to come up to his stepsister. She swallowed and blinked up at him. He reached out and gripped her shoulders.
"Hey, hey, what's wrong?" he asked worriedly. When she didn't respond, he persisted. "Casey, come on. You gotta tell me what's wrong, princess. What's wrong?"
She finally snapped out of her little stupor, her eyes finally latching onto his. "We have to go home—to London."
"What? Why?" he croaked. "What's happened? Is it Nora? Is she going into prematu—"
She shook her head, closing her eyes as if to steady herself. "No, no, it's… Derek, it's Marti."