The buzz of her cellphone from inside the pocket of her jeans pulls Casey's attention from the growing crowd around the bar in seconds, and her hands fumble for the device in little to no time at all. In spite of the ready distraction to be found in doling out drinks and engaging in small-talk, she hadn't quite been able to keep Aiden's taunts from her mind. She had only earned a constant reminder of them each time she slipped away from the bar, to check on Evie in the office a few short steps away.
She'd been going over their options in her mind ever since Aiden left. Each new arrival to the bar brought her heart back to lodge in her throat, because it could have been him, coming back. But it never was.
After another attempt at convincing Evie to go to the police had failed—miserably, if Casey is being honest—she left her friend in the office yet again, a newfound determination to find some way to fix this the only thing truly capable of keeping her going. And while a part of her is still not entirely sure her friend will forgive her for essentially forcing a confession, Casey is still more than a little relieved that she has done something, nonetheless.
She tried to keep the text simple. Something that would not cause alarm. Just a question that might seem like the sort any daughter would ask, if she'd gone a while without checking in with her dad.
"Coming to the bar tonight?"
His response had been simple enough. Clearly her effort to avoid provoking alarm had succeeded. But in light of that answer, Casey allows herself a small frown, a sigh escaping as she considers what her own reply should be.
"Wasn't planning on it."
"Could you?"
As soon as she sends the text, she questions it. Wonders if she should reconsider, because trust has always been a large part of what makes her friendship with Evie stick, and she is clearly throwing that to the side.
All she wants is for her friend to be safe, though. For Aiden to become someone else's problem, so that Evie can stay.
She wants that with every last fiber of her being, and perhaps that is why Casey cannot entirely bring herself to regret reaching out to someone else, even when the concern in the response that causes her phone to buzz against her palm is almost painfully apparent, despite not being capable of hearing that response out loud.
"Stay put. On my way."
The relief that flows through her is nearly palpable, and she catches herself stumbling backwards a few steps until her back knocks against the edge of the bar behind her. And as Casey stows her phone back in her jeans pocket, she forces herself to take a breath. She allows herself to relax, even if only just a bit, because nervous energy is still reverberating through her until it feels as though she could simply split in two.
If nothing else, she will be able to get the weight of Aiden's threats off her chest. Maybe her dad can talk Evie into going to the police, himself, because clearly Casey has failed in that regard. She has failed in spades.
Another frown pulls at her lips, but she tries to force it aside as best she can. She tries to redirect her focus to the gathering of pilots and civilians around the bar, instead. While some of the anxiousness in the pit of her stomach has eased, it is far from gone altogether. And even if a part of her wonders if pulling her father into this is really the smartest choice, Casey cannot exactly bring herself to try to change her own mind.
She's always tried to handle her own problems. To figure things out herself. She thought she'd long since given up being the little girl who always ran to her father to make things better.
But apparently giving up on that is far easier said than done.
A holler for another beer effectively breaks Casey out of her apparent reverie, and she dons what she hopes will be a convincing smile as she reaches for the beverage in question. She forces another steadying breath because already she can tell her hand is shaking.
The recipient of the beer gives her a questioning look, but appears to think nothing of it after she manages another smile and a nod. And her determination to avoid drawing any actual attention to her current state of mind is evidently enough to fully drag her back to the present, at least for now. It works, or at least it seems to, for a while. She can even engage more fully in a conversation or two along the way…
It isn't until about thirty minutes later, when another familiar figure approaches the bar that Casey catches herself faltering once again, memory crashing in and causing her shoulders to slump before she can even try to stop it.
She hadn't wanted to drag Bradley into this, too. At least not until everything is settled. But in the mix of everything that had happened since turning up at the bar earlier that afternoon, Casey had clearly made one critical mistake. She isn't truly supposed to be working tonight. Not really.
Something Bradley has obviously realized, himself, if the slightly perplexed frown he wears is any indication to go by at all.
"Didn't think you were working tonight."
"I'm uh—I'm not," Casey admits, biting on her lower lip for a moment, because even knowing she can't exactly risk not coming clean doesn't make the idea of actually doing so any easier to face, "But there's kind of—there's a thing."
"A thing."
"With Evie."
"I guess I shouldn't be all that surprised," Bradley remarks, the laugh he might have attempted to lighten the mood failing rather quickly, given Casey's sudden frown, "What?"
"It's not that—this time, it's not like—like her usual antics, Bradley, I—"
The words trail off without any conscious effort at all, because in spite of her best efforts, Casey cannot quite speak—she cannot fully draw breath—around the sudden lump that is forming in her throat. Reality is crashing in on her again. Making her scared. Terrified, really, no matter how fiercely she might cling to bravado for survival.
Bradley's obvious concern isn't exactly helping, either, whatever frustration he may have felt at the potential drama Evie brought along with her clearly fading to be replaced by something else entirely. And Casey doesn't want any of this. She doesn't want him to worry. She doesn't want him drawn into something she should have taken care of far sooner than this.
The idea of him knowing everything is suddenly terrifying, because she knows he cares enough for Evie to not want her facing this on her own. But the idea of not telling him—having him find out later—is just as bad, and Casey hardly knows which way to turn.
"Case, what the hell is going on?"
"Can I tell you later?"
Almost immediately, Casey realizes it is the wrong question to ask, the exasperation that becomes so apparent in Bradley's features provoking a wince of her own in response. But she can't give him the answers he needs—the ones he deserves—here, while simultaneously trying to keep a handle on the bar. She can't tell him a thing, when she can still hardly figure out how to explain it herself.
She can't do anything other than stay where she is, and even if it frustrates her enough to make her want to scream, Casey resists, exhaling slowly before attempting to persuade herself to speak once again.
"Evie's in—she's in the office. I don't know what, if anything, she'll want to tell you, since she kind of swore me to secrecy, but—but you can always start there."
"And if she doesn't say anything?"
"Then we'll talk. I promise, I'll tell you everything, I just—I can't do it here."
It wouldn't exactly be a lie to say that Bradley hardly seems convinced. That he still bears at least some modicum of frustration over the entire ordeal. And Casey knows that she can't exactly blame him. He's been so patient. With her. With the idea of the baby. With—everything—ever since they were little.
She doesn't want to own up to the direction her thoughts are taking. To make it real. But there is a part of her that is already starting to wonder.
Exactly how much more of this will Bradley be willing to take before he walks away?
Shaking herself from the thought, Casey swipes at the tear that is slipping down her cheek in the hopes of clearing it before Bradley will even notice. But just like her efforts to help Evie before things got out of hand, this effort is also nothing but another one of the ways she has failed.
"Come here."
"I'm—I'm working—"
"Case. Come here."
Casey wants to refuse. She wants to, because a part of her is all but sure that if she actually allows Bradley to pull her out from behind the bar, she will fall apart. But instinct seems to have other plans, because her hand is already in his. Their fingers thread together easily, and Casey focuses on the warmth of his palm against her own while his other arm winds around her shoulders to bring her closer.
It is surprisingly easy to melt into his warmth. To try and absorb his strength, when her own is clearly not enough. And Casey is finally able to draw in a shaky breath, even with the lump still partially lodged in her throat, her free arm winding around Bradley's waist while his own tightens just a bit around her in response.
"You're safe, right? You and Ev. You're safe."
"I don't—I don't know."
"So it's serious," Bradley says, almost immediately aware of Casey's answering nod, even with her head tucked just beneath his chin, "Guess I'd better go talk to her, then."
"Just don't—if she doesn't want to tell you anything, don't—don't push," Casey pleads, pulling back even if every muscle she possesses wishes she could remain exactly where she is for far longer than she has already, "She—she's already got one foot out the door, and I can't—"
"I won't push."
"Thank you. Seriously, I—thank you."
"You don't have to thank me."
"Actually, I think I do—"
"You don't," Bradley insists, tucking a stray lock of hair behind Casey's ear as he releases her completely, despite not fully wanting to at all, "This is what we do, right? Get involved?"
A soft laugh escapes before Casey can avoid it, born of both relief that Bradley isn't resolved to run for the hills, and something else she cannot quite place. Something that tugs at her heart, because he clearly remembers their discussion in the Bronco from the night before. It isn't just something her mind cooked up. Something she conjured because she is so desperate for him to stick by her side that she is willing to allow herself to become lost in a world that could never exist.
She still can hardly bring herself to believe any of this is real, but the look on Bradley's face as he watches her, waiting for an answer tells her that it is. It is very, very real.
And that is enough to give her the strength to manage a nod, the corners of her mouth curving into what she hopes will be a somewhat convincing half-smile before she replies.
"Yeah. It's—it's what we do."
It takes a moment to persuade herself to slip back behind the bar, but somehow, Casey manages, already hoping that Bradley might be able to persuade Evie to see reason where she could not. Some of her earlier apprehension has faded, even if the relief is only going to last a moment. And she might even consider herself capable of seeing the remainder of the night through without issue, at least until a familiar voice calls out to her from just a few short steps away.
"So. You and Bradshaw, huh? Got to admit, I never saw that one coming."
Though not quite foolish enough to believe no one would have seen her with Bradley just now, Casey would be lying if she tried to pretend she hadn't hoped most of the bar's patrons would pay them little to no attention at all. But judging by the familiar flash of white teeth behind a smirk, and the amusement glinting in blue-green eyes as she finally looks up at the man who spoke head-on, she knows.
Jake Seresin isn't exactly the sort who is going to let what he has just witnessed go.
Great.
…
When the sound of the office door opening registers in Evie's mind, she hardly spares it a passing thought, assuming it is just another one of Casey's attempts to provide reassurance, and nothing more. She does not turn from her spot slumped in the chair behind the desk. She doesn't even attempt to say a word.
In truth, she knows she does not deserve any of this. She doesn't deserve Casey's kindness, or stubborn protective streak that is only going to get her hurt or worse.
Evie knows that she should never have come here. She knows she needs to leave. And yet she cannot persuade her frozen limbs to move.
Or at least she can't until the sound of a voice that is definitely not Casey's has her jolting out of the chair in next to no time at all.
"Ev—hey. Hey, easy, it's just me."
"Jesus, Bradley, scare a girl half to death!"
"I don't think it's me that has you scared."
"So she told you," Evie murmurs, her entire body seeming to go rigid even if she already suspected this was coming. She truly never expected Casey to keep everything from Bradley. Especially now, with the baby.
The baby.
Yet another reason why she has no business staying in California at all.
"If I can just get a ride from someone to the airport, I'll be gone in—"
"Tell me when I said you should leave," Bradley counters, effectively moving to block Evie's path to the office door, and ignoring the slight huff of frustration she gives him in response, "And for the record? Case didn't tell me a thing."
"She—she didn't?"
"Nope."
"Why?"
"Maybe because she thought you would take it better if you had a chance to tell me yourself."
"I feel like if I do, you'll definitely wish that I—that I hadn't," Evie warns, a frown pulling at her mouth, because even as she says the words, she can sense the resolve to keep things to herself falling apart. Her hands are shaking again, and she feels as though she can barely breathe.
Just like when Aiden had been standing a mere few feet away, it feels as though the walls Evie has tried to build around her life are slowly crumbling down. And she cannot help but wonder how many of her friends will end up buried beneath the rubble when they finally fall.
"I can't—I can't put this on you. It's bad enough I've already done that to Casey."
"Maybe you should let me be the judge of what I can and can't take."
"You can't let her get involved in this. At least not any more than what I've already told her. She's pregnant, Bradley, you—you can't."
"Her friend is in trouble, Ev. Kinda think that means she's already involved."
Even if she wanted to, Evie would never have been able to stop herself from slumping back in the chair beside the desk in response to those words. She wouldn't have been capable of resisting the shuddering breath she sucks in through her throat, even as it constricts to choke her.
She shouldn't be here. She should never have come back. Her entire body is starting to shake, and each breath comes more difficult than the last.
Black spots are starting to blur her vision, and one of her hands is clutching at her chest, trying in vain to slow her racing heart. Everything is suddenly too much, and not enough all at the very same time.
It isn't until she feels the steady weight of Bradley's hand resting on her back, just between her shoulder blades while the other moves to squeeze her shoulder that she remembers she is no longer on her own in the office at all. And even though Evie can feel her cheeks burning with embarrassment, she cannot quite persuade herself to pull away.
"Hey, relax, Ev. Just breathe. I've got you."
Evie tries to cling to the words. She tries to focus on what she can feel. Bradley's hands. The fabric of her shirt against her skin. The seat beneath her, and the slight pressure of her feet resting against the floor. Sounds of muted conversations reach her from the closed office door, and she thinks she can smell the hints of something deep-fried as well.
Reassurance comes slowly. Piece by piece, but still, it comes. Because if she can pick up on smells, she must be breathing. And if she is breathing, there can't be any real source of constriction around her throat after all.
It's all in her head. She's fine. Aiden would be a fool to come back to the bar now, with so many potential witnesses, and Evie knows he really never has been that…
He gave her two days to get him the money. Two days. She still has time. Not much, but time, nonetheless.
The realization allows her to suck in one final breath before straightening slightly, and she is aware of how Bradley's hands still linger against her back and shoulder. Forcing herself to look him in the eye, it doesn't truly surprise her that he appears more than a little concerned. And she realizes, then, that refusing to tell him anything would be a poor repayment for everything he's already done for her since she's known him.
"You're sure you want to know? Because I'm—I'm pretty sure if I could actually give Casey a shot at forgetting all of it she'd jump for it."
"I'm sure. Depending on the insanity of it all, I may just make you buy me a drink for the trouble, though."
Unable to resist the amused snort that escapes in response to the rather obvious attempt at teasing, Evie spends a moment running a hand across her face, her emotions a rather unlikely mix between lingering apprehension, and outright relief. She still hates the idea of dragging friends into her troubles. She hates the idea of anyone getting hurt because of her.
But in spite of all that, it is far more of a relief than she feels she truly deserves to have anyone that even wants to know what bothers her. Like for once, she doesn't have to feel so alone, after losing her brother. After both of them had buried their parents just a few years before.
If nothing else, telling Bradley may ease some of the stress that Casey must be feeling over this entire thing. It might give her friend one less thing to worry about. One less secret to keep on someone else's behalf.
And if Evie can do anything to even begin to pay the apparent new couple back for their kindness—their willingness to take her as she is, mess and all—she is more than a little determined to do exactly that.
…
"If I didn't know any better, Jake, I'd say you almost sound disappointed."
The remark does about what Casey expects it to, and she suppresses a sigh as Jake simply leans against the bar, rather than taking the beer she'd just given him and moving away. She'd wanted him to. She'd wanted that with every last fiber of her being, because she isn't entirely certain she can engage in what appears to be becoming their usual back and forth banter, given current circumstances.
All things considered, however, Jake truly doesn't seem to care. Or maybe he just doesn't notice her distraction. Either way, even if Casey attempts to focus on taking care of everyone else still seated around the bar, her newfound companion does not appear to be letting up.
"Nah. Just curious."
"Curious."
"Guess I kinda thought you'd go for someone a little less—tame."
"What, like you?" Casey quips, one eyebrow lifting towards her hairline, "You're not really my type, Hangman. Sorry."
"But Rooster is."
"I guess you'd know, wouldn't you?"
It would be a lie to pretend the flicker of shock that makes its way across Jake's features is not somewhat satisfying, regardless of how childish acknowledging the sensation may be. And perhaps that is what allows Casey to match his own posture leaning against the bar, a thin smile pulling at the corners of her mouth whether she wants it to or not.
"You do your research, right? Before you taunt someone about something that's none of your business?"
Comprehension dawns in the pilot's expression, and Casey does what she can to tamp down another surge of that childish satisfaction as best she can, because she knows it will only serve to undermine what she is trying to convey. In truth, she isn't exactly sure her attempt will work. She can't say whether Jake will actually think about the consequences of what he'd done the other day, or if he will simply brush it off and do it all over again the next time he wants to get beneath Bradley's skin.
Casey can still remember another taunt from the pilot about her fighting Bradley's battles for him, from the first night she'd been back. And she hardly wants it to seem like that is what she is doing, now.
Still, there is something about the entire situation that makes it all but impossible for her to remain silent, particularly when she catches on to the barely concealed scoff that is so apparent behind Jake's next words.
"He told you."
"That's what happens when you grow up with someone, Jake. You tend to tell each other things."
"You knew his dad, then," Jake concludes, straightening just a bit, and watching as Casey's mouth settles into a thin line, and she turns to swipe an abandoned glass from the opposite end of the bar before she replies.
"No, actually. He died before I was born."
"So why does what I did have you so determined to step in?"
"Maybe because I don't enjoy it when two people I care about have something like that used against them."
"And what if I told you I was just trying to push Rooster into being a better pilot?"
"Then I would say you should find a different way to do it," Casey retorts, forcing herself to take a breath, because in spite of her best efforts to avoid it, the frustration she felt ever since Bradley told her about what had happened with the pilot now standing opposite her is clearly starting to show, "You have to earn the right to talk about Goose. And you haven't done that yet."
"Have you?"
Casey wants to say yes. She wants to, but the word sticks in her throat, as though determined to taunt her for daring to say anything about the matter at all. Her fingers tighten around the rag she'd just swiped to wipe down a recently vacated spot at the bar, and for a moment, it is as though she cannot even move.
She knows her silence can only be confirming Jake's victory, but it seems she can do little to change it, her teeth digging into her lower lip for a moment, before she realizes that the spot she had been intending to clean is now occupied yet again.
"There a problem here?"
"Just talking."
"Casey?"
"He's right. We're just—just talking," Casey assures, whatever speechlessness had plagued her fading almost as soon as she gets the chance to look her father in the eye, "Want a beer?"
"Maybe I want to know what you were talking about."
Casey looks to Jake, then, and it does not take her long to realize he clearly seems to believe she will be only too likely to provide a full accounting of what they had just been discussing. He does well to conceal the apprehension such a thing might provide, but she can sense it there, all the same.
Truthfully she has no intention of doing that. She's handled it, at least as best she can, and as such there isn't really any need to discuss it further. But that doesn't mean she can't make him sweat, even if only for a moment.
Childish or not, the opportunity seems simply too good to resist.
"Your exploits."
"My what?" Pete asks, the astonished look he wears provoking a not so subtle twitch at the corner of Casey's mouth as she hands him a beer anyway, while Jake, on the other hand, looks as though he is actively trying to find a way to simply disappear, "What does—what does that even mean?"
"You sure you wanna know?"
"Judging by the look on your face right now, not really, no."
"Well, there you have it. The man doesn't want to know," Jake cuts in, the obviously strained smile he gives causing Casey to try to suppress an amused snort in response, "Case closed."
"He asked if I was one of them."
"One of—"
"One of your exploits," Casey clarifies, simultaneously aware of the now-horrified expression that crosses Jake's features, as well as the way in which her father is nearly choking on an ill-timed sip of his beer, "I was just trying to set him straight when you turned up."
"And uh—did you?"
"Did I what?"
"Did you set him straight?"
"I don't know, Jake. Did I?"
Although her father may not recognize the implied double meaning behind the question, Casey has little to no doubt that Jake does, the way his eyes narrow as he watches her for a moment prompting her to send him a saccharine smile. Again, she wonders if she is going too far. If her actions seem unreasonable to almost everyone except for herself. But just as she is preparing to let the unfortunate pilot off the hook, he replies, all former traces of discomfort carefully hidden away behind a nod and a slightly less strained smile.
"Absolutely."
Taking that as his cue to leave, Casey can do nothing but watch as Jake weaves his way back through the crowd, aiming for the pool tables, and a small gathering of his own companions instead. Her brow furrows, because whatever humor she had felt at his expense is not lasting very long at all.
In truth, she hardly knows if her attempt at getting him to see exactly how wrong he'd been for using Goose against her father—against Bradley—had even worked, or not. But before she can spend too much time contemplating that, Casey becomes aware of Evie sidling behind the bar to stand at her side, while her mother passes behind her father to head for the office at the exact same time.
"I can take over if you need to leave," The blonde suggests, something in her eyes giving Casey every reason to believe that, whatever she had discussed with Bradley in the office, it must have helped, "I'm good, Casey. I promise."
"Ev, I need to—"
"I know you do. And it's—it's okay."
"You're sure?" Casey persists, automatically reaching for her friend's hand, and finding herself startled by the strength behind the squeeze Evie gives in return along with her answering nod.
"Positive. But I think the two of us probably owe Bradley at least a beer each."
"Do I even want to know why?"
"Let's just say he's—ridiculously persuasive, and I owe him for it," Evie shrugs, aware of Casey's lingering confusion, though judging by the concerned expression Pete is giving her, now isn't entirely the time to discuss it, "Go. Really, Casey, I'm—I'm good."
Although a part of her is still more than a little unsure of the idea of leaving Evie behind the bar alone, Casey manages a nod, already aware of how her father is abandoning his seat in favor of heading towards the office, himself. The familiar tingle of dread at what she is about to disclose ignites in her mind again, but she forces herself to push it aside as best she can.
She'd chosen this. Wanted this. It had been the only thing she could think of that might not cause her to risk losing track of her friend for good.
Casey reminds herself of those realities as she slips out from behind the bar. As she runs her hand against Bradley's shoulder as he takes a seat there, himself, because he is clearly intent upon staying nearby to keep an eye on Evie while she cannot.
As she draws closer to the office, she forces herself to draw one last, steadying breath before stepping inside, and closing the door behind her. And even if the concern in the expressions of both her parents tugs at her heart, Casey catches herself hoping for one singular thing above all else.
That this will not be yet another decision she makes that she will come to regret.
…
Hello there, everyone! And welcome to another new chapter! I must admit, this one kind of turned a bit filler-ey on me, despite that not being my full intention at the start. And I'd kind of hoped to bring Maggie back home to her parents here, as well. But somehow, it felt a little repetitive to have Casey (and Evie) telling the same story about Aiden to Roo/Mav and Penny that we've already heard, just as I felt bringing Maggie in at the end might seem a little jarring given the rest of the chapter's contents, thus far. So hopefully the way I went instead doesn't seem too boring as a result? I promise, we'll get into Mav and Penny's thoughts next time around, and Maggie will be back home with Ice and Jo as well! I'm just trying to keep this as organized as I can, what with all of the side-plots and drama, so hopefully that is working and everything still makes sense!
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 so far! And special thanks to FirstToKnow and SirenWolf28 for leaving such kind words of feedback the last time around! I truly do appreciate the support, and I hope, filler or not, that everyone enjoys this chapter every bit as much as the last!
Until next time, dolls!
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