Chasing Casey

by Jane Anthony

  Behind my kit, the world melts away. All my shit dissolves into the atmosphere as I wail away with all my might. It takes me to another place. One where I’m the master of my fate. The captain of my soul. Nothing matters. Nothing hurts. The beat takes over, and I’m untouchable.

  In my mind, the sound of Alex Lifeson’s guitar riffs and Geddy Lee’s bass line brings me home as I add the fills and rolls, going off on my own tangents and inserting my own flair to the song in my head. No one can hear it but me, but that’s fine. I’m the only one who counts, and I know it’s epic.

  My eyelids crack open, and I see her sitting on the edge of her seat, lips parted, eyes wide as she anxiously watches. This is everything. My woman, my drums, my house. All I’ve ever wanted in one place. If I was an emotional man, I might just shed a tear, but that Y chromosome keeps me from being a total pussy.

  We lock eyes as my abuse on the kit continues. She stands, fingering the hem of her Ozzy tee—my Ozzy tee—letting her tongue graze along her lower lip.

  Smash! Crash! Bang! Bang! Bang!

  My feet pound the pedals, my arms flail, and the cymbals crash all around me. Crossing her arms over her body, she lifts the hem of the shirt. Slowly. She cocks her head to the side, watching me with her fiery blue gaze as the shirt rises past her taut stomach.

  Adrenaline shoots through my overheated blood. Even the dull sting in my shoulder doesn’t calm my racing pulse. I’m amped. On fire. Both in my arms and in my pants. One turquoise eye peeks over the hem of the shirt, disappearing behind it altogether as the tee leaves her body and wisps to the floor.

  I’m still going. Sweat pours down my face. My gaze burns into her exposed flesh in front of me. Little pink nipples stand at attention in the cool room, begging my mouth to warm them. I have no idea what I’m even playing at this point; I’m just banging everything in sight until this game is over and I reap my reward.

  A dimpled smirk grows on her face. Her eyes gleam with mischief as her thumbs hook into the lacy strings of underwear around her slender hips.

  Crack!

  The snapping sound of wood echoes through the room. Chunks of the splintered drumstick fly everywhere; I look down in awe at the mangled stick in my hand and then back up at her. “You’re evil.”

  “Me?” Lashes flutter above her innocent, girl-next-door grin, dimples and all. Casey’s arms fly at her sides as she does a twirl and heads for the door.

  I jump up from the throne and scurry between the massive floor toms, trying my best not to knock everything over in my haste as Casey runs from the room. “You’d better run!”

  Her giggling echoes through the empty house, bouncing off the plain white walls, followed by the pitter-patter of bare feet on the hardwood floors. The house isn’t that big. She doesn’t get far before I’m right behind her. “Gotcha!” I hook my arm around her middle and pull her against me.

  Golden tendrils hang wildly over her face as she turns to face me. “You got me, AJ. What do you intend to do with me?”

  Her breath fans across my lips as I tuck the strands of hair behind her ear. “I’m gonna keep you. Forever and ever, cowgirl,” I whisper, walking her into my bedroom and closing the door behind us.

  CHAPTER 16

  Casey

  “GREETINGS, GUYS AND gals!” Marisa slurs as I open the door to our apartment. The sun is still in the sky, and she’s already half in the bag.

  “Ooh, you have the glow of a woman who’s just been gloriously fucked!” She tips the bottle of booze to her crimson lips, swallowing down a swig of straight whiskey. “And the limp,” she adds with a snort. The bold green shadow swept over her lids makes her eyes pop against the vibrant red bangs cut straight across them. All dressed up and nowhere to go.

  The strange man sitting next to her on our couch offers me a rotten smile as I enter. A spider tattoo creeps along his lanky neck. Every guy she comes home with looks pretty much just like this. The ladies are buxom, but the guys are foul. To each his own, I guess.

  “You wanna join?” he asks, adding the emphasis on the last word. At least, I think that’s what he asks. The thick Scottish accent and the half-empty bottle of Jack between them make him hard to understand. This guy is her spirit animal.

  “No, she doesn’t.” AJ stomps through the door and drapes a possessive arm over my shoulders.

  “Relax! Lee’s just kidding. Ain’t ya, baby?” Marisa coos, fingering the bullring in Lee’s nose. If this guy adds one more piece of metal to his face, he’s going to pierce himself shut.

  He mumbles something incoherent then pulls her by the ears and fuses his thin lips to hers.

  “You got some mail on the table,” she warbles around his grimy mouth. Staying at AJ’s is looking more and more like the best decision for all of us. I don’t know if I can handle another one of Missy’s get-togethers where I’m stuck in my room while she makes it impossible for me to ever want to sit on my own couch again.

  “Classy as ever, huh, Miss?” AJ says, following me into the kitchen, but Missy’s long ago stopped paying attention. The guy’s already on top of her, grinding her into the sofa cushions as we speak.

  A small pile sits on our tiny pub table. I go through the envelopes until one catches my eye. A certified letter from Texas. The fancy stamp in the corner says The Law Office of Roger Dixon. “It’s from Gran’s lawyer,” I say to no one in particular, tearing the letter open.

  “Holy Jesus H. Christ!” My hand flies to my heart as I fall back into the chair behind me. I have to read the letter again to make sure I’m not hallucinating.

  “What is it, babe?” For a second, I forgot AJ was even there. I forgot about Marisa and her beau, regardless of the moans traveling from the couch twenty feet away. Hell, I almost forgot to breathe.

  “Gran had a will.” I’m determined to force my heartbeat to slow down to a manageable pace, but it doesn’t seem to want to listen. “She left me everything . . .” As the words leave my mouth, the lights in the room appear to dim before my very eyes. If I don’t relax, I’m going to pass out right here on this stool. “Including the ranch.”

  There has to be some mistake. Mama is Gran’s direct kin, not me. Grainger Ranch has been in our family for generations. Why on God’s green earth would she leave it to me? If anyone deserves it, it’s Austin. He’s the one who’s still there after all these years, the one who was with Gran on her last days, taking care of things when her wayward girls took flight.

  My gran was full of piss and vinegar on her best day and stung like a hornet on her worst. She had a head for business better than any man I’d ever known. Me, on the other hand? All I know is how to strum a guitar and mix drinks.

  “Okay,” AJ starts. “What’s the next move then?”

  I look up from the paper into AJ’s steel gaze. He’s flipped again. My funny, sexy man is hiding behind an emotionless shield. He’s seen this scenario play out already. In his own life.

  “I don’t know. I guess I have to go to Texas.”

  Nausea hits hard when I think about going back there without Gran. My choices are limited, though. Gran trusted me, so I can’t let her down. This is my chance to make everything right.

  “It’s the right thing to do.” He nods, trying to keep his face unreadable, but his feelings show through the cracks. He takes a step forward, entering my personal space. “You gonna come back to me, cowgirl?” His knuckles graze my cheek.

  The tenderness reflected in his gaze is enough to break me. I knew this would happen. I just knew the minute I opened myself to another person fate would intervene. Karma is a cold-hearted bitch, that’s for damn sure. “I’ll try.”

  I’d love to give him a definitive yes, but I have no idea how long I’ll be gone or what’s waiting for me out there. Texas is my home. Grainger Ranch is my birthright. I just didn’t expect it this soon.

  I fold the letter and slip it back into the envelope before going to tell Marisa the news. The last thing I want to do is get in the middle of her action, b
ut I’d also like to get my stuff and get out of here before atomic punk starts shedding his clothes.

  “Miss,” I whisper, approaching the couch. “Hold up a sec.”

  Lee raises his pockmarked face with a creepy grin. “Change your mind, then?”

  “Settle down, killer.” Marisa slides out from under him and pushes herself to a sitting position. “What’s up?”

  “I’m going back to Texas for a while. I have to settle Gran’s estate.”

  Her orange-red brows shoot up to her hairline, and her bold green eyes get wide. “You’re leaving me?”

  Marisa has her puppy dog pout down to a science. We’ve been roommates for five years. Missy was the first friend I made when I moved to New York. She may be flighty, but she’s been with me through it all. She knows all my secrets, even the ones I swore I’d never tell. Leaving her breaks my heart, but I have to do what’s right. Whatever happens, we’ll always be besties.

  “Just for a while. I’ll send you some money as soon as I can to cover my half of the rent.”

  “You sure this is just about the ranch?”

  “What else would it be about?”

  Marisa’s thickly lined cat eyes roll toward the kitchen before settling back on me. “Uhh, Austin?”

  A feeling of dread comes over me just hearing his name out loud. The thought of coming face to face with Austin again makes the bile rise in my throat. I turn my head, hoping AJ’s not within earshot, and turn back when I see him on the phone facing the corner. “I doubt I’ll see him. Gran’s been gone a few weeks now. I’m sure he packed up shop and split.” My wishful thinking is just that. Wishful. I know he’ll be there. He’d never leave the horses unattended, and he’d never let the ranch fall to hell. It’s too important to him.

  The oldest of eight kids, Austin comes from a huge family. His father’s a preacher, and his mother’s a homemaker. They barely had enough money to scrape by. It’s how Austin ended up on our ranch to begin with. It started with him just wanting to bring some money to his family and ended with him becoming a part of ours. Half the time, I’d find him sleeping in the stables instead of going home. I finally begged Gran to make up a space for him in the house. She traded part of his salary for room and board, and from then on, he was ours twenty-four hours a day. A live-in ranch hand at our disposal.

  “How much does AJ know about him?”

  “Enough.”

  My history with Austin is about as ancient as scripture and as dead as the Latin it’s written in. AJ knows I was engaged. He doesn’t need the whole nasty story.

  “You’re gonna break the little drummer boy’s heart, aren’t you?”

  “Of course not! There is nothin’ between Austin and me anymore. That ship sailed a long time ago.”

  Am I trying to convince her or myself? Hearing his voice was like a trigger. Something in my chest blossomed the minute that slow drawl seeped into my ear. It seeped into my heart. I’m sure it’s just homesickness, but leaving him has been a decision I’ve regretted since day one. I can’t deny that.

  I glance back at AJ, who’s still on the phone. A small smile grows on his lips when he catches my eye. We haven’t known each other long, but there’s something about him I can’t quite shake. He, too, has found his way into my heart. However, I can’t have them both.

  ***

  Bright pink splashes streak the sky as the sun begins to set over Jill and Jameson’s house. The new life that’s been thrust upon me weighs heavily on my shoulders as I hop down from the truck. The crooked set of AJ’s hat is a sign of his equaled discontent. That letter was a bomb that blew up in our faces, eliminating everyone’s joy.

  I force a smile on my face as the front door opens wide. “Hi!” Jillian singsongs. “Thank you so much, guys! We really appreciate this.”

  AJ takes the baby from his sister’s arms as we enter. She adjusts the fallen strap on her little black dress and continues rattling off information. “Jameson already fed Zakk and put him in his jammies, so all you guys really have to do is hang out with him then put him to bed . . .”

  Jameson comes down the stairs, dapper in a button-down shirt and jeans.

  Date night. How adorable?

  “You have my number and Jameson’s number. I made up some bottles and left out some snacks just in case. Oh, and don’t forget—he can’t sleep without his monkey. And leave the nightlight on so I can check on him when I get home—”

  “All right, Jill!” AJ snaps. “Go out already. I’ll take care of the kid.”

  Jameson snorts and leads his wife toward the door. “First night away. She’s freaking out a little,” he whispers.

  “You know I can hear you,” Jill adds.

  Jameson rolls his eyes with a grin. “Thanks, guys. Have fun.”

  “You too,” I reply, as they walk outside.

  The door clicks closed, and AJ just looks at me. Behind his eyes, a layer of melancholy settles over his normally smoldering gaze. Bubbles of spit form in the corners of Zakk’s mouth. He screeches and kicks his feet, trying to get down. I follow AJ into the family room and sit, while he drops to the floor, setting Zakk down in front of him.

  “I’m sorry your last night in New Jersey is spent like this,” he murmurs.

  I sit down next to him and take his hand in mine. “It doesn’t matter. If I’m with you, I’m happy.”

  Cartoon cats count to ten on the television set, but the silence in the room is deafening. It’s our last night together, so we need to make this count. The moment is heavy as we sit in silence, both of us fixated on Zakk. “Look,” AJ starts. “Why don’t you grab a bottle while I order us a pizza or something? We’ll put Zakk to bed and just chill.”

  “You’re hungry again?” This time, my smile is genuine.

  “I have to keep up my energy. Satisfying you is hard work!” he jokes, returning my grin with one of his own.

  I push to my feet and go to the kitchen. A cold blast of air bursts from the fridge when I open it in search of a prepared bottle. Everything in here has a specific place. Clear bins labeled with care, organized down to the very last strawberry. Mini jars of what look like baby food are stacked in neat rows next to a line of bottles on the side. I grab the first one and pull off the attached sticky note, reading Jillian’s big loopy handwriting.

  Run bottle under hot water for about five minutes until warm. Do not microwave!

  Taking a quick survey of the kitchen, I notice sticky notes in several places. Small neon squares with instructions in the same messy script, while others are love notes in neat tiny print. I didn’t notice them the last time I was here, but now that I see them, they make me smile.

  I warm the bottle as instructed and bring it back to the family room where Zakk waits on AJ’s lap. “Your sister likes things a certain way, huh?”

  AJ chuckles. “That she does. Here, take Zakk. I’m going to order the food.” He stands, resting the baby on my lap.

  The minute he sees the bottle, Zakk opens his mouth then sucks down the milk with the fervor of a starving man. “Slow down, lil’ guy. You’ll get a belly ache.” His jaw clamps tight as I give the bottle a light tug.

  The bottle is almost empty by the time AJ is finished with his call. “He’s drinking that bottle way too fast . . .” he starts, but before he has time to finish, milk erupts from Zakk’s mouth in a volcanic stream, covering us both in warm, opaque fluid.

  “Gross!” I whine.

  AJ just laughs. “Go get cleaned up. I’ll take care of Zakk.”

  Covered in a mix of vomit and spit, I jog to the kitchen while AJ takes the baby upstairs. My shirt is soaked—there’s no saving it. I pull the milk-stained garment off my body and wipe the remaining mess off my skin with a paper towel. The sound of running water flows from upstairs. I follow it, hoping to borrow AJ’s tee, but his gentle voice slows my pace.

  “That wasn’t nice, Shredder. Look at you. All covered in milk.”

  I peek through the crack between the door and the frame
as AJ sets Zakk in the tub. He washes him with care, using a tender voice I’ve never heard before. The minute he thinks no one’s watching he drops the tough-guy routine. But I’m watching. And my heart melts when he pulls Zakk from the tub and wraps him in a towel, cradling him against his burly chest.

  Zakk cuddles into him, and AJ drops a kiss to his towel covered head. “Tired, huh, kid? Let’s get some new jammies and get you to bed,” he coos again.

  I back up and move toward the stairs as swiftly as I can before he catches me watching. The reality of it makes my head spin. AJ wants a family. He’s not just looking for a girlfriend; he’s looking for a future. There’s only one problem . . . I’m not sure I’m cut out for that.

  Austin always talked about children. He wanted a big family, but the word “kids” falling off his lips was enough to make my skin crawl. I have no positive parental role models—I can’t even keep a Chia Pet alive. How am I supposed to raise a litter of babies?

  Yet seeing AJ with Zakk filled my inside with warmth. He would be an excellent father. The kind of dad who throws the ball around and helps with homework. The kind of dad any kid would be lucky to have.

  Curiosity grabs hold again, and I sneak up the stairs. Zakk is dressed in clean pajamas, and his head rests on AJ’s shoulder as his uncle rocks from foot to foot, quietly humming a soft lullaby. The moment steals the breath from my lungs. There are many facets to AJ Morello. He’s rough and tumble, full of jokes and attitude, passionate and lewd. They’re all things I love about him, but the side he keeps hidden away might be my favorite one of all: the sentimental side. The kind and softhearted piece he buries away. The part that turns him from a guy to a man. The real AJ.

  CHAPTER 17

  AJ

  DAY BREAKS OVER the horizon as I load Casey’s bags in the truck. The sky is purple, and the streets are silent. I love this time of morning. When the Earth’s still sleeping and no one is around to disturb the scenery.