Fuck, what my heart demanded, it wasn’t just love, it was borderline obsession. I couldn’t get enough of her. She was resilient in a wild way. Passionate in a reckless way. And she loved in a way that scared me because sometimes it became so intense, I worried we’d both detonate with the sexual energy generating between us. One thing was certain: she was mine and I was never letting her go.
The key with Casey was not to push her. She wanted to figure out her path on her own. So, I didn’t steer her. I just held her hand and went on her life journey with her. One night, while I was working at the bar, she barged through the doors like a man—or woman—on a mission. She was covered in blood, and my life flashed before my eyes. I felt automatic pain in my chest. I thought she was hurt. My hands shook as I ran to her, checking her for wounds, screaming for anyone to call 9-1-1. If this world took her from me…
Thankfully, once I about lost my fucking mind, her laughter broke through my insanity. I cupped her face and kissed her hard and long. And when I pulled back, I asked her what in the goddamn hell happened. She went to explain how she was on her way here and saw a dog get hit by a car. She demanded the bus she’d been riding to stop and jumped off and tended to the dog. She knew right away the poor pup’s leg was broken, possibly more injuries, but she went on and on, telling this detailed story, her hands in the air, so animated as she explained how she saved the dog’s life. She’d flagged down a car, and in so many words, made the man let her in, holding the pup, and rode with the dog to the emergency vet. After a few hours, she’d learned he was going to be just fine. She started to cry halfway through her story, and I continued to hold her as she finally had her moment. She finally found her path. It took that dog that day to help her realize her journey was to help animals. A silly idea as a kid was just buried under a pile of doubt and scrutiny. She wanted to go to school and dedicate every single moment of her time helping animals.
My heart kicked back into overdrive at the thought of her time being elsewhere, instead of with me at the bar, in my bed, or keeping me happy and at peace. Her laughter, the sound no musical instrument can make, sifted through my ears like a natural high. She eased my worries with a kiss and told me she was going to go back to school.
And so, she did.
She had a few college credits under her belt, but after this week, she just finished her sophomore year at the local university. She knew vet school was a long road, but she didn’t care. She pushed herself like I’ve never seen. Her dedication was so goddamn admirable, it made my chest puff just knowing she was all mine.
“Not only did you sleep the whole time, you snored like a boar in heat.” Poppy stretches her head toward the backseat of their car. I laugh, knowing hell has no fury like a woman being called out on her snoring.
She raises her feisty hand to take a whack at Poppy’s shoulder when I intervene, grabbing her built-in weapon and cushioning it into my lap. One thing that hasn’t changed is her love for violence. Her explanation is it’s her way of being expressive. How can you argue with that? Did I mention she said that when she was naked as the day she was born and riding me like a cowgirl at bull riding competition? Another story for another day.
Mick takes a right turn down the steep gravel road, and everyone becomes silent as we share in the moment of the symbolism from the last time we all were here. When the trees open like wings, spreading across the way, it’s hard not to catch your breath the moment they separate and the vast lake comes into view. The sun, just as I remembered, lays a silver cast on the water’s surface, glimmering in tranquility.
Lake Redstone.
“Man, it’s just as beautiful as I remember,” Casey whispers, her voice filled with nostalgic. We pull up to the lake house, and go figure, we’re the last ones here. Like deja vu, we see Jason and June swinging on the porch swing while Katie and Jerry unload coolers from their truck.
“How the hell did they beat us? We left almost an hour before them,” Poppy gripes, checking the GPS.
“Well, if we hadn’t spent thirty minutes at the gas station while Mick arm wrestled the attendant we would have.”
“Hey! He complimented my muscles and wanted to test my strength and agility. You don’t say no to that.”
Casey shakes her head while I silently laugh. Mick kicked that dude’s ass. No one messes with Mick “The Destroyer.”
Okay, so it’s a little nickname we came up with one night when we were drinking and playing cards. The girls had gone to go do what girls do and left us unsupervised. Jason had brought over a bottle of Malort, which is the devil’s booze, and the dares started. Before we knew it, we were hyped up on gasoline and giving each other nicknames. It would have ended all good and dandy if the dares didn’t become obnoxious and we hadn’t ended up at the local tattoo shop tattooing each other’s nicknames on ourselves. I definitely got the shit end of the dare on that one because Mick “The Destroyer” is a long tattoo. Unlike Mick, who only has Jim’s Bitch written on his left ass cheek.
When Mick parks, we all climb out and make our way over to the rest of the crew. After a round of hugs and hellos, I excuse myself to have a chat with Jerry while Casey and the rest grab our things.
“S’up, my man,” I say, slapping Jerry on the shoulder.
“Nadda. Everything is all good. You wanna see it?”
I whip my head around, making sure Casey isn’t anywhere in sight. “No, I don’t want the girls to catch wind. June’s like a hawk. She’ll sense something and start giving me that smile. The ‘I know’ smile.”
Jerry laughs, knowing exactly what the hell I’m talking about. She’s been eyeing us the last few months while Jerry and I get into our secretive conversations. “All right. Plans are in place. I’ll hold on to it until later. When I hear you suggest the canoe trip, I’ll sneak away and stick it inside the boat.”
“Thanks, man. Don’t know what I’d do without a friend like you.” And that’s the damn truth. Jerry, just like me, is huge into collecting antique vinyl records. There’s money in it, not to mention priceless glory. Working in financial banking, he helped me move around some funds, invest in some small projects, and auction off some of my records. With the money coming in, the bar was flourishing, and the band was kicking fucking ass. Since Casey fell into my life, the writing hasn’t stopped. So much so, Jerry hooked us up with a buddy who was a small-time recording agent. Our first album hits actual stores at the end of the summer.
But the most exciting part is the money I just spent, with Jerry and Katie’s help, picking out a ring.
I’m going to propose this weekend.
At the place where it all started. Lake Redstone gave me life. Something I never knew existed. A love so deep, there’s no true way to define it. I watch Casey and wonder how someone like me got so damn lucky. I don’t deserve her. But I’m going to cherish her ’til I take my last fucking breath…if she says yes.
And if she doesn’t? Then I hope she likes being tied up for the remainder of her life, ’cause I ain’t ever letting her go.
Casey
“Same room assignments,” Katie appears behind me as I wrestle my bag out of the jammed packed trunk. “Which means you two better keep it to a minimal this year. Between your moaning and Jerry’s snoring, I’ll be lucky to get a full five minutes of sleep during this trip.”
My bag finally comes free, and I stumble backwards into Katie. “Jesus, did Mick really need to bring his portable stripper pole? A little much, don’t ya think?” I grumble, regaining my stance and reaching for the bag I dropped.
“Oh, you know Mick, gotta beat out last year’s competition. Saw the text chain between the guys. Pretty sure the loser’s gonna have someone’s name on their other ass cheek.” I cringe at the mention. “Speaking of, is Poppy talking to Jim yet?”
By talking, does she mean two-word sentences and “you’re lucky I don’t kill you with my bare hands” stares? “They’re getting there,” I laugh and go in for a hug.
Lake Redstone was
the birthplace of true romance. The kind where you glance at your soulmate, and even in silence, the words flow between you. The cuteness of finishing each other’s sentences and all the sappy stuff like sharing meals, feelings, and movie dates.
No, I’m not talking about Jim and me.
It was love at first sight with Jim and Mick. Since the first handshake, they have been inseparable. A true bromance in the making. And let me tell you how annoying it’s been. The inside jokes, the secret handshakes, the date nights, that don’t include Poppy and I. What two men go to the movies to see a freakin’ chick flick without their wife/girlfriend? They reminded us of two kids in their man-made fort drawing plans to rule the world together. Okay, maybe not the world. More so the world of pickleball as of the last six months.
After the debacle with the Malort and tattoos, Poppy grounded Mick. And by grounded, I mean, no drinking and no Jim. She lasted three whole days, bless her heart, until she couldn’t take the moaning and groaning of how love-sick her husband was before she lifted the Jim-ban. But she stuck with the drinking. To say the least, she was not very happy to have my boyfriend’s name on her husband’s butt cheek.
So, the no drinking and doing dumb stuff rule in place, they found something else to keep them busy. Pickleball. Mick did his research, and through his agent, got in touch with the owners of the lake house. They, in return, got Mick and Jim a spot on a small time pickleball tournament. Six months later, they’re still going at it. They currently rank at a 4.5/5.5 in the USAPA rating rubric and are well on their way to landing their own spot on the US Open tournament.
“Well, that’s good,” Katie says, grabbing for my bag while I fish for Jim’s backpack. “’Cause Jim still looks a little scared of her.” We both peer over at Jim, who’s standing next to Mick, resembling a scared kitten while Poppy lectures them about something.
“I’d be too if I tattooed my boyfriend’s name on my ass and had his wife go all cop gangsta on me.”
And boy did she.
Nothing like having the best girls’ night ever to come home to your husband incoherent and dancing around the house buck naked. Not that that’s out of the ordinary but discovering his fancy new tattoo was.
After Poppy’s reaction, Jim was out of his mind nervous to show me his.
“Just show me.” I tap my foot on Poppy’s kitchen tile, anticipating what the hell I’m in for. “It can’t be worse than Mick’s.” I wait for him to agree. He doesn’t. “Oh, you’re kidding me, it’s worse than Mick’s?”
Jason spits out his drink laughing, earning a good smack from June. “Show me or I’m gonna take Poppy’s gun and do more than wave it at you.”
“Jesus, woman, fine.” He throws his hands up in surrender. “But keep the beating to a minimum. This wasn’t my idea.”
“So, it was your idea?” Poppy snaps at Mick.
Jason doesn’t quit. Tears of laughter stream down his face. June huffs, turning to her husband. “May I dare ask what’s on your ass?”
“Babe, I’m not stupid like these two.”
“Hey! You said it looked dope!”
Poppy smacks Mick. June smacks Jason. Katie visually murders her husband. “Don’t look at me. This was just between those love birds.” Jerry’s hands go up in surrender.
We all glare back at Jim and Mick.
I take a menacing step toward him. “Show me or else—”
“Jesus, you scare me.” He turns around, and with one quick swoop, shoves his shorts and briefs down, giving us all a nice moon view.
On his left cheek is Mick “The Destroyer.”
I gasp. Poppy whacks Mick. June chokes on a laugh. Jerry smacks Jim on his freshly tattooed cheek.
“SON OF A…”
How can two grown men be so immature? I tried to stay mad at Jim. Silent treatment and all. But it was hard when he would stand on the other side of my locked bedroom door serenading me with “I’m sorry” songs. That voice. It did things to me.
“Oh come on, it has been six months.”
“Yeah, and three hundred laser removal appointments. Not sure why she’s still so angry.” My comment drips with sarcasm.
“I’m gonna put my money on his hesitation to get it removed being the big factor. News flash, he wanted your boyfriend’s name on his ass. I’d be a little ticked too.” Katie wiggles her brows.
“What are we talking about?” June inquires, walking up and snuggling into me for a bestie hug.
“How Mick’s still pouting because he couldn’t keep Jim’s name tattooed on his ass.”
June shrugs. “Really? I thought it was because Mick suggested counseling for the three of them to move past the incident and not make Mick break up with him?”
That was a great phone call.
Poppy called, in her “you’re never gonna believe this shit” voice, and explained how her husband, so worried she’d make him break up with Jim, suggested they attend couple’s counseling. By couples, he meant him, her, and Jim! I had a solid five-minute laugh attack on the phone before I had to ask if she was pulling my chain. She wasn’t. The funniest part was she almost considered it because she was so tired of Mick pouting. But I understood where she was coming from. It was impossible to deny the small amount of jealousy over their relationship. The dressing alike. Jam sessions, where Mick pretended to be in Jim’s band. They’d cut each other’s steak if no one would stop ’em. They were cute, yet so ridiculous. After Poppy got her long rant off her chest, we both got a good laugh out of it. Even more so, unlike Mick, Jim kept his tattoo. I didn’t care. Was it awkward that I saw my best friend’s husband’s name every time Jim walked away from me naked? A wee bit.
But he took it a step further and did something even more unexpected. He tattooed “Beautiful Disaster” on his chest. Over his heart. It was in that moment my life felt real. My heart full. My entire world brighter.
The biggest lie I ever told was not about having a fake boyfriend.
It was that I didn’t need a man to feel whole. Before Jim, I was only living half a life. And now? I’m so complete, Jim filling each part of me with love, happiness, tenderness, and so much laughter.
He’s my everything. He’s patient with me, and kind. He trusts in me when I don’t even trust in myself. And most importantly, he allows me to be me. There’s no questioning the insanity inside my crazy brain.
I expected him to bail a million times. Find that Dear John letter, or a post-it saying it’s not working out and I could keep his toothbrush. But he never did. And in times when my insecurities were at an all-time high, he’d ease my worries by doing something as silly as leaving more clothes at my place. Making me his “in case of emergency” contact at his dentist. When he got the tattoo, I cried like a baby. It was so permanent. What happened if I did something that really pushed him over the edge?
His response was always the same. “It wouldn’t be true love if it wasn’t a little crazy sometimes.”
And gosh darn it, I was. I, Casey Kasem, was madly in love with this man. He stole my breath every time. He was full of passion, drive, talent—so much talent—in all areas, let me tell ya. We fought, but we loved harder. He took me for who I was and loved me all the way down to my core. He peeled back my layers one by one until he saw every imperfect part of me. And it only gave him more strength to love back.
I may have been living wild and free, but before Jim, it was just wild. The day he replied to my ad, he truly freed me from all the doubt, self-sabotage, and personal guilt I fought with to find myself. In the end, he found me first. And with his love and guidance, the past year, like a single musical note turning into a beautiful tune, I’ve orchestrated the perfect version of who I am.
“Why are you three staring at me?” Poppy breaks into my self-reflection, walking up to us.
“We wanted an update on your threesome.” Katie chuckles, and ducks when I slap her. “What? I asked what you all were thinking.”
Poppy swats at a mosquito. “Oh, we’re all fine. I
told Jim I wasn’t mad anymore. That he could stop coming over and mowing my lawn. He’s scaring off all the cute college kids home for break needing a few extra bucks.” That earns a hefty chuckle from me.
“Anywho, I’m just worried once they get their surprise, they’re going to run off and do something stupid, like get promise rings.”
“Do they have any idea?” I ask, shocked myself Poppy made this happen.
“Not a clue. So, no videos when my husband cries, okay?”
We all share in a good laugh when the sound of a vehicle catches everyone’s attention. My eyes shift up the steep drive as a white SUV pulls down the road. Poppy peeks at her watch. “Right on time.” We all stand still, the guys joining us, while the car parks and two people get out.
“Holy shit, Larry?” Mick takes two hefty steps and throws his hand out, shaking Larry Rodger’s hand.
“In the flesh, Mick. Great to see ya again. It’s been too long.” Mick’s smile is gigantic, while Jim looks nervous as heck. Mick turns, calling for Jim to join him. “Jim, you still scared of me?”
Jim walks forward, shaking Larry’s hand. “Nah, just nervous on how to act around a US Open all-time pickleball champ. I didn’t mean to defeat you in that last game—”
Larry throws his head back, a gust of laughter so loud, it echoes across the lake. “Son, you beat me fair and square. You should be proud. It’s why we’re here actually.”
Mick and Jim’s expression morph into confusion, just as Sherry turns the corner of the large vehicle. We met the owners of the lake house shortly after the guys’ first tournament. The duo was making such a quick name for themselves, Larry and Sherry challenged them to a pickleball game. What no one expected was for Mick and Jim to win.
“Oh yeah? We didn’t get the dates wrong, did we? I swore we confirmed the rental for this weekend.”
Lake Redstone Page 21