Slumping down to perch on the edge of her bed, Casey eyes the package Evie had withdrawn from her duffle bag, her eyes blown wide as she manages to speak with a strangled croak.
"Holy shit, Ev—"
"I know. I know, I'm—it was—it was so, so stupid," Evie groans, her face in her hands as she shuffles the package back inside her bag, covering it with her clothes as best she can, "I just—I was so tired of Aiden having the upper hand, and I—"
"Followed him to see what he does all day, and ended up stealing his money. Drug money."
"I didn't know it was drug money when I took it, Casey."
"I know. I'm—I'm sorry, I just—wow," Casey exhales, her brow furrowing as she tries to wrap her mind around everything her friend has been telling her since her mother and Amelia had left, and the two of them finally had a moment alone, "I don't—I don't even know what to say."
"You should probably start by telling me to get the hell out of your mom's house. Or telling Penny directly about how much of an idiot I am so that she can do that for you."
"I'm not going to do that, Ev."
"Why?"
"Because we don't kick people out of the family for making mistakes. You know that."
Evelyn is hardly sure she deserves such acceptance. In fact, she is absolutely sure of the opposite. Her stupidity could be a danger for anyone around her, because she isn't foolish enough to believe the possibility of Aiden finding her is nonexistent.
He could. It isn't like she's an expert in keeping herself below the radar. But just as she is about to reiterate that reality to Casey, the brunette is moving forward, effectively taking the opportunity from Evie's hands in next to no time at all.
"We'll figure this out."
"Casey—"
"We will. He doesn't—Aiden doesn't know you're here?"
"No. I did everything I could to lead him literally anywhere else," Evie assures, another flare of nervousness gripping her as she watches her friend manage a faint nod, "I mean it's not like I've had to do this a lot, so it may not be perfect, but—"
"But we have time."
"Yes."
"Okay."
"Okay? That's—that's it?"
"I mean if you really want me to yell at you, you may need to give me a minute. It's not exactly like I have to do this a lot either," Casey admits, surprised at the small laugh that escapes, though she would be a liar to pretend she is not relieved when it prompts Evie to manage a similar sound of her own, "I can um—I can reach out to someone. See what we can—what we can do."
"Someone?"
"You remember that cop I dated from Fresno?"
"Jason?"
"That would be the one."
"What exactly are you gonna tell him?" Evie inquires, trying to ignore the jolt of fear she experiences at the thought of anyone besides Casey knowing the circumstances she has allowed herself to get wrapped up in. Something that her friend seems to sense in seconds, if the reassurance she provides next is any sort of indication at all.
"Nothing specific. Just—just hypothetical stuff to see what he says. But he's probably going to suggest a restraining order first."
"I already—I already tried that."
"Oh Ev—"
"It's—I mean it's fine. I'm not with him anymore, so—"
"It is most definitely not fine," Casey hisses, clearly startling Evie with the sudden vehemence behind her tone, though whether that is because the blonde is honestly scared, or just surprised at having someone so firmly in her corner, Casey cannot tell, "You could've—you could've called."
"What, and dragged you out to Tulsa?"
"I would've been there in a heartbeat. A heartbeat."
"To do what?"
"Kick Aiden's ass for a start."
"Or you would've gotten yourself hurt, or worse," Evie counters, shifting to sit cross-legged on the floor while simultaneously tucking a lock of hair behind her ear, "And I wasn't going to just derail your plans to see your family."
"You're family too, Ev."
"And maybe I'm tired of people I care about getting caught in the crossfire because I can't keep my shit together!"
Casey falls silent in response to the outburst, in part because it is so out of character, but mostly because the way in which Evie had said the words pulls at something she truly does not want to consider. Aiden had always been volatile. She knew this. She had seen proof of it with her own eyes, when he came home drunk from a night out with the guys while Casey and Ev were busy with their senior year of college, convinced Evelyn had been cheating on him.
She can still recall the split lip she earned by getting between them, because Aiden had already shoved Evie to the floor, causing the blonde to knock her head against the corner of the kitchen table. And she is starting to wonder if there may have been more behind the sudden death of her friend's brother than Evie is letting on.
"Ev, did—did Ben—when he died, was he—"
All that Evie can manage is a singular nod, her teeth digging into her lower lip with enough force to draw blood. And before she can fully rationalize it, she finds herself pulled up off of the floor and into Casey's side, her friend's arms winding around her shoulders like vines while she nearly chokes around a shuddering sob.
"If you—if you talk to Jason, you can't—Casey, you can't tell him about this."
"Someone in law enforcement needs to know!"
"You can't. You—you can tell him whatever you want about the money, or someone needing to make sure no one can find them, but I—I can't stay if you tell him anything more," Evie pleads, already hating herself for how selfish the request seems, despite knowing she cannot see any other way out of this for her at all. She should be fighting for justice for her brother. She should never have taken Aiden's money. And she certainly shouldn't have turned up in California, to drag her best friend into her problems as well.
But she had been so scared. She is still scared. And knowing Casey would only be too likely to want to know what was going on, Evie had desperately tried to find whatever means she could to avoid feeling like she was on her own.
She is selfish. Stupid. Reckless.
And now that Casey knows the truth, there is no going back.
"I'm sorry. I know this is—that I have no right coming here, dumping this on you and then trying to tell you what to do—"
"You're not—you aren't telling me what to do."
"It kind of feels like I am."
"You're not," Casey assures, giving her friend's shoulders a squeeze, and causing her cheek to squash up against Evie's sleep-tousled hair, "We're gonna figure this out."
"We?"
"You and I. And if all else fails we can—"
"No."
"Ev—"
"No one else can know. I can't—it's bad enough that I already told you," Evie insists, shame and guilt threatening to choke her as she forces herself to pull away from Casey's arms in order to look her friend in the eye, "No one else, Casey. Please."
It would be a lie for Casey to pretend she likes this. That the idea of allowing her friend to persist in keeping her secrets is anything other than insane. But the idea of Evie disappearing on her if she doesn't go along with this, at least for the time-being, is nothing short of terrifying. And that is what has her clenching her jaw for a moment, before forcing herself to manage a singular nod, the idea that she is definitely risking making the blonde's problems even worse—even more dangerous, by keeping her silence—settling into her gut like a stone.
"I can go. If it's easier, I can just—go."
"Don't you dare even think about it."
The shakiness behind the words effectively strips them of any sort of force at all, but even so, Evie is taken aback by them, all the same. And she is not blind to how Casey is still obviously stunned by everything that has come to light. How could she not be?
But in spite of all of that, the familiar determination that is so inherently Casey is there in spades. It is a determination that Evie has seen countless other times before.
A part of her is almost more uncertain in the wake of that look, because she knows exactly what her friend is like when she throws herself off of the deep end to help someone else. But Evie is also fully aware of how, if it even starts to look like Casey is getting in too deep, she already has a plan in place to keep her friend as far removed from the situation as possible.
And as much as it may terrify her, Evie is already prepared to use that plan if it means she won't lose yet another person that she has come to love.
"Alright. I—I told you what was going on with me," She begins, noticing the sudden furrow between Casey's eyebrows, the abrupt change in topic clearly confusing, to say the least, "And you promised you'd do the same once I did. Spill."
"Jesus, Ev. Give a girl a minute to adjust!"
"Nope. Think of it as me keeping you on your toes."
"Maybe we've had enough of the heavy for the day," Casey suggests, more than a little apprehensive over the thought of divulging her own secret now, because a part of her already knows that Evie will see it as a good enough reason to pull away. To face whatever it is Aiden may or may not throw at her on her own.
"Did you steal illegally earned money from your boyfriend, too?"
The joke falls flat in next to no time at all, because both women recognize it for what it is. A rather feeble attempt to redirect the somber mood of the bedroom they inhabit, if for no other reason than to extend the amount of time they have to simply pretend everything is as it was. That both of them have not had the very fabric of their individual worlds yanked out from beneath them.
Something that Casey is more than willing to allow, at least for the time-being, because until she has more time to wrap her mind around everything, she honestly has no idea what the hell she is supposed to do.
"I don't have a boyfriend, Evie."
"Hmm. Well I'm sure I could think of a few men willing to fill the role. Or they could—fill other things."
"Okay. You're done now!" Casey exclaims, a flush warming her cheeks as she swats at her friend's arm in retaliation, the act provoking a sudden laugh from the blonde that Casey is honestly more than a little relieved to hear, even in spite of everything she knows, "Let's talk about—anything other than my romantic prospects, yeah?"
Evie's brow furrows, because she is picking up on just the slightest hint of something Casey is not, apparently, even close to being willing to say related to that particular topic. And although she doesn't entirely want to just let that discovery remain unspoken, Evie is also well aware of how she has absolutely no right to act as though Casey owes her any sort of explanation at all.
Which is why she opts for the next best thing she can think of, the snort her friend gives in response to yet another gear-change in their conversation far more satisfying than Evie cares to admit.
"How likely do you think Penny would be to give me a job at the bar?"
…
"Wow. You look like crap," Amelia remarks, momentarily abandoning her homework in favor of getting a better look at the early arrival that is moving to sit a few seats away from her at the bar, "Rough day?"
"Something like that."
"Seriously? That's all I'm gonna get?"
"You want more?"
"Well obviously. Or else I wouldn't have asked."
Unable to resist something that might have been at least halfway close to being a genuine laugh, Bradley mulls over the possibility of getting a head-start on his tab for the evening in spite of how the bar isn't technically open. It isn't exactly like Penny would mind. But something tells him doing that would give Amelia all the proof she wanted to continue pressing the case, and as much as he may enjoy the younger girl's company, Bradley isn't exactly sure he can handle that level of persistence. At least not today.
"Casey around?"
"Out with Evie."
"Right."
"I think they're coming in later, though. Mom mentioned something about Evie needing a job."
"Just what the world needs. Evie as a bartender."
"I think she'll be a fun one," Amelia shrugs, fiddling with the pencil held between her fingers for a moment, before her eyes narrow, and she shifts on the stool to face her newfound companion more directly, "Why are you looking for Casey?"
"Why do you wanna know?"
"Just curious, I guess."
"Something tells me it might be more than that."
"So you're telling me if you had a sister, and some guy came into a bar looking for her—looking like he's had a day—you wouldn't be curious?"
"I'm 'some guy' now," Bradley sighs, unable to resist the slight twitch of a resigned smile pulling at one corner of his mouth, even in spite of his admittedly poor mood, "Good to know."
"Oh shut up, you know what I mean."
Another twitch at the corner of his mouth catches Bradley off-guard, and he begins to wonder if maybe coming to the Hard Deck hadn't been such a terrible idea after all. Spending an entire day distracted—off his game—had worn him down far more than he truly cares to admit. And even though he can't exactly call spending time with Casey's half-sister a feasible way of getting his mind off of things, he'll sure as hell take it over being alone, at least for right now.
"You're seriously not gonna give me anything else?"
"Persistent, aren't you?"
"Where do you think I get that from?" Amelia quips, lifting an eyebrow as she sends her companion an obviously satisfied grin, "C'mon. You know you want to tell me."
"Pretty sure I don't, actually," Bradley disagrees, the words lacking any real frustration behind them, whether he truly wants to get into any of the myriad of things that are plaguing him at the moment, or not. He is reasonably sure that Amelia doesn't know a thing about what Casey told him, because he thinks he knows the younger girl well enough to realize that if she did, it would've been one of the first things out of her mouth the second she saw him.
It wasn't, though. And Bradley isn't about to spill that particular secret because as far as it pertains to Amelia, it isn't his to tell.
But that leaves what happened on base, and he really doesn't want to touch that either. Not yet. Maybe not ever. Facing ridicule for his more cautious behavior isn't entirely anything new, especially where pilots like Jake Seresin are concerned. And if it had just stopped at that, maybe he could've let it go. Maybe he could've ignored it, because it isn't exactly a secret that he's got bigger things to worry about right now.
It wasn't until Seresin mentioned his dad, clearly aware of the exact sort of wound he was poking at, that everything had really gone to hell.
Having Maverick there had just been the icing on the damned cake.
"Wow. You're really determined to make this difficult, aren't you?" Amelia says then, the comment effectively knocking Bradley out of his own internal musings, though it does very little to remove the lingering anger he can feel practically burning a hole in his gut. Jake's words are still echoing through his head. They provide an almost infuriating contrast with his discussion with Casey, the night before.
"There's no time to be thinking about the past."
Somehow, with Mav around, thinking about the past is all Bradley can seem to do.
"I can't be the only one that knows Maverick flew with his old man."
Lashing out at Seresin may have been a sure-fire way to get his ass kicked off the mission, but in that particular moment—hell, even in this one, to a lesser degree—Bradley isn't exactly sure that he cares. Everything seems to have started falling apart all at once.
He's never been more painfully aware of how he is mere inches away from losing the last bit of family he has left.
So what if his career goes down the tubes, too?
A grimace escapes at the thought, because he doesn't mean that. Not really. Not when a life in the Navy is probably all he has. All he will ever have. But before he can travel too far down that road, the realization that Amelia is hopping down from her bar stool pulls him back to the present, her expression mildly bemused as she gathers her textbooks into her arms and leans against the edge of the bar.
"Looks like therapy time's up for you. My ride's here."
"Probably better for you that it is."
"Speak for yourself. I was looking forward to hearing a good story," Amelia confesses, pushing away from the bar after tapping a message out on her phone to let her ride know she would be out in just another minute, "Tell Casey I'll see her at home?"
"If I see her."
Amelia offers him a skeptical look before departing, and Bradley decides to do the same not long after, suddenly no longer in the mood for even the prospect of beer that the bar certainly had on offer. Barely managing a nod for Jimmy as the older man maneuvers his way out of the back room with a rattling case of liquor in hand, he plants his feet on the floorboards and begins the trek toward the door…
Bradley hardly pays any attention to his surroundings at all as he heads out into the parking lot, and towards the familiarity of the Bronco parked nearby, completely missing the car pulling into the lot as he unlocks the door. He is painfully aware that it is only a matter of time before the lot starts to fill up. Before endless reminders of how completely the day had gone wrong become unavoidable.
He is so focused on that thought alone that starting the Bronco is practically done on auto-pilot. And it takes all the effort he can muster to make it out of the lot with his full attention on the road, the pit of anger and dread that had been his constant companions that day only growing more insistent the longer he tries to keep them at bay.
Apparently, in spite of his desire to avoid it, spending too much time alone with his thoughts is exactly how the remainder of the day is going to go.
…
"How's she doing?"
"Not bad, actually," Casey replies, turning to glance through the office door at where Evie is standing behind the bar, handing a pair of beers to an older pilot and his female companion, "She might actually be better than me."
"Oh I don't know if I'd say that."
"I think they call that nepotism, Mom."
"Maybe I'm just trying not to make you feel bad," Penny teases, laughing softly at her daughter's answering roll of the eyes, and reaching out to snag her arm as soon as Casey makes a move to stand and head back to the bar, herself, "How are you feeling?"
"I'm fine."
"Uh-huh. Try again."
"Really. I'm fine," Casey repeats, the words not altogether a lie, seeing as the nausea that seems determined to dog her every move is, at least for the moment, not an issue at all, "I shouldn't leave Evie hanging, though."
"You're not. You're talking to your mother."
"A mother who worries too much."
"I think that's kind of my job," Penny states, leaning forward to place both elbows on the desk that is resting between her, and her daughter, and almost immediately noticing the way in which Casey's teeth are starting to dig into her lower lip, "And it's a job I'm pretty damn good at."
"I can't disagree with you there."
"So what's going on? Apart from what I already know, I mean."
"I—there—there's nothing."
"Really?"
"Yeah," Casey confirms, already sensing her mother's disbelief, and hoping that she will be able to evade it at least a little by what she says next, "I just—when Ev and I got here, Bradley was leaving."
"Ah. There it is."
"There it is?"
"I may or may not have had a text from your dad mentioning something happening during training today," Penny informs, almost immediately wincing at the way in which Casey's expression changes from curious to open alarm, and hurrying to elaborate before she can decide to assume the worst, "Everyone's fine. It was a temper thing, more than anything else."
"What happened?"
"I think that may be something you want to let Bradley tell you, himself, hon."
It would be a lie for Casey to pretend she is pleased by the answer, but that does not mean she is incapable of understanding it. And if things weren't so messy between her and Bradley right now, she'd already be absolutely sure that he would tell her about whatever had happened, when he was ready.
But they are. They are messy, and Casey cannot help but wonder if things will ever be the same between them again.
"You know, I think I can keep an eye on Evie if you want to go talk to him."
"I'm not so sure he wants to talk to me, Mom. And I can't—I can't just throw Evie to the wolves."
"Wolves?" Penny questions, following the line of her daughter's gaze as she looks back out into the bar, "I think she can handle anything those guys throw at her."
Casey wants to protest that claim, but she knows if she does, there will be almost no way for her to avoid at least some disclosure of what brought her friend to North Island in the first place. And she can't do that. At least not yet.
Still, she is more than a little reluctant to just leave her friend in the wind, regardless of how well she knows that the longer she postpones a real, honest discussion with Bradley, the more likely she will be to ruin things between them for good. And that is what prompts her to try to scramble for some sort of happy medium, even if she already knows that the technique rarely ever works at all.
"I'll give her backup, at least until the rush dies down."
"Casey—"
"Just until it dies down," Casey presses, already moving to stand, one of her hands moving to brush against her stomach almost without any conscious awareness at all, "Then I'll see if he has time to talk, okay?"
Nodding, Penny refrains from saying anything else, already half-sure that if she does, it will only serve to persuade Casey to do the precise opposite because of her own fear. And she understands that, perhaps more clearly than her daughter will ever know. When she first learned she was pregnant, she had been terrified. Afraid of raising a child on her own, and equally unsure of saddling Pete with the responsibility as well.
It hadn't always been easy, but together, the two of them made it work, despite no longer being together. And as much as Penny would like to hope that Bradley and Casey could manage the same, if needed, she wouldn't be being honest if she pretends not to hope for their story to end with something more.
Casey may not be ready to admit it, but she obviously has a connection with Bradley that goes far deeper than just friendship. A connection that seems to run both ways. And yet if her daughter doesn't recognize that the fear of exploring the possibility behind it is precisely what is holding her back, none of that may matter, in the end.
The man Penny had watched grow up alongside her daughter is definitely not the sort to wait around forever, regardless of what his fellow pilots may say about his hesitancy. And based on what she'd heard from Pete, if Casey is not careful, she may not be the only thing pushing Bradley away for good.
…
"Here you go. Sorry about that first one," Evie apologizes, forcing herself to look the man she is addressing in the eye, despite the fact that just one look at his far too attractive features has every instinct she possesses all but clamoring for her to run for the hills. He is almost impossibly tall, with blond, perfectly styled hair. Muscles for days. Sharp blue eyes that glitter just so, when he's trying to pretend to be coy, and a smile that can cut like a knife…
Evie has certainly seen his type before. She's been tangled up with his type before. And regardless of how the way he leans against the bar has some small, forbidden part of her fluttering with interest, she reminds herself that she made a promise to never go there again.
She has no business going there. Not when Aiden had given her every reason to fear for her life, and certainly not when she is trying to learn from the mistake of being foolish enough to believe that anyone who looks that good—who practically oozes gentlemanly charm—couldn't possibly do her any harm.
The hard truth of the matter is, sometimes, the prettier the packaging is, the more dangerous the contents tend to be. Something her own mother had told her time and time again before she died when Evie was only thirteen. But regardless of that advice, Evie had proven rather slow to pick it up.
Saying that realization provides her with no short supply of embarrassment and shame would be a lie.
Even with her distraction, however, Evie is still very much aware of how the man still leaning against the bar never once stops watching her, and it isn't unsettling as much as it is—confusing. Because his sudden appearance and request for a beer had been what caused her to drop the glass bottle she'd already been reaching for, anticipating his need for the drink he had been imbibing in all night.
Evie tries to tell herself she hadn't been watching him, occasionally, while she accustomed herself to serving the other patrons around the bar, but she knows that is technically a lie. And in spite of how she tries to will herself to say something that will be a gentle reminder for him to be on his way, she cannot quite seem to find the words.
Not with those eyes still on her, and that smile making her feel like she is some idiot school girl about to go weak in the knees.
"Can I—can I get you anything else?"
"Maybe just a little bit more of that pretty smile."
"If I didn't know any better, I'd say you practiced that line."
"Would it really be that bad if I did?" The man probes, leaning just a little bit closer to the pretty blonde behind the bar, and forcing himself to ignore the flare of satisfaction that comes in response to the light flush that fans out across her cheeks before she replies.
"Maybe I'm already—already with someone."
"This someone already here?"
"I didn't—I didn't say that."
"Want to know what I think?"
"I get the feeling I'm going to find out either way," Evie murmurs, unable to entirely avoid a smile even in spite of her best efforts to avoid it, her attention turning to mixing a cocktail for a middle-aged redhead seated behind her in hopes that the grin will remain unnoticed.
"I think any man that leaves someone like you to fend for herself isn't someone you wanna be involved with at all."
"Someone like me. And uh—I'm guessing you figure you can step in where this other man is lacking."
"You said it, sweetheart, not me."
"I think I'll—I think I'll pass."
"See I'm not so sure you really mean that," The man perseveres, watching as the woman turns back to him after handing the redhead her drink—some fruity abomination with too much syrup and not enough booze—her eyes flicking up to meet his own before dropping down to her hands as she reaches for a rag to clean up a bit of spilled vodka nearby, "I think you like me."
"I'm pretty sure that I don't."
Even as Evie says the words, she knows that they do not entirely ring true, and she kicks herself mentally for being so stupid. So foolish. She has absolutely no business engaging in—whatever this is—while her life crumbles to pieces right before her eyes. And she certainly shouldn't be taking the risk of getting one more person caught in the potential crossfire of Aiden's wrath, whether she knows that person or not.
Another glance at the man in question doesn't seem to help stiffen her resolve, though. In fact it only seems to fracture it, and Evie seizes on the opportunity provided by one of the man's friends appearing at his side to avert her gaze, aware of the growing flush spreading across her cheeks all the while.
"Seresin, what the hell! We're waiting on you, man!"
"Been a little busy, Javy. Be right there."
"Tryin' to get yourself a girl already, huh?"
Evie's gaze snaps up before she can stop it in response to the words, her eyes blown wide as she looks between the two men, the rag in her hands dangling, momentarily forgotten. It takes every last facet of strength she has to resist the urge to take a step or two back beneath the weight of their observation, but by some miracle she holds firm, pride kicking in to keep her from appearing like some scared little idiot frightened of her own shadow.
A voice at the back of her mind practically sneers at her that that is all she is. All she will ever be. But Evie forces herself to ignore it, shaking herself back to the present in time to realize that whatever the newcomer wanted to learn through assessing her has already been found.
"C'mon, man. I don't think you're really her type."
Unable to tear her gaze away from the first of the two men—the ridiculously handsome blond that had been so determined to win her over—as they prepare to depart, Evie does not miss the final grin he sends her way. Even as much as she tries to tell herself to forget him, she already knows, somehow, that she won't.
And if the man's final words are any sort of indication at all, he clearly seems to believe the same.
"Guess I'll be seeing you around, darlin'."
Naturally, Evie appears to be just enough of a ridiculous fool for that reality to be something she actually wants.
…
Wow, you guys. Just…wow. This chapter had me on the struggle bus for so, so very long. UGH! First, I couldn't get the interaction with Casey and Evie at the beginning the way I wanted. Then Bradley was giving me trouble. Then Hangman. And so on, and so on. But I did what I could to keep persisting anyway, because I already feel terrible that I've made you wait this long for an update. So I really, really hope the end result isn't all that awful? If it is, as per usual, I am happy to take this down and re-evaluate. But otherwise, I hope that there are at least some parts for you to enjoy?
To clarify a little with Evie's troubles as they stand right now, I'm trying (key word, trying, lol) to show that she and Casey are remarkably similar in some ways. Namely, in how they tend to prefer avoiding their feelings/more troubling instances of reality more often than not, even if doing so lands them in more trouble than if they'd just faced things head-on. I'm hoping that as the story goes on, it will become clear that they're both obviously tough in their own way, while simultaneously still being flawed. So it is my sincerest hope that said flaws don't seem to…ridiculous or unbelievable along the way? I must admit I'm having a bit too much fun planning out all of the drama in my mind, but with that said, if anything does seem overdone I am happy to revise it! All you need to do is say the word!
As always, my heartfelt thanks go out to each and every one of you that has taken the time to read, follow, favorite and review this story thus far (and special thanks to SirenWolf28, Hales, Roostette, and ChiTown4ever for leaving such lovely feedback the last time around!) I am just so remarkably grateful for your time and support, and I really hope you continue to enjoy the story as it progresses!
Until next time, loves…
MOMM