Dirge (Devastation Trilogy 1)

by Lesli Richardson

“After you.”

  She smiles up at me, mirth sparkling in those gorgeous green eyes of hers. We’ve only been dating for two weeks but I am utterly convinced I am going to marry her.

  I’m also not stupid enough to tell her that. I might be an idiot, but I keep that kind of stuff to myself. Besides, if I say something like that at this stage, and she tells her overprotective roommate and best friend, Casey-Marie Blaine, I might as well forget about ever dating Ellen again.

  Ellen tries to tell me Casey doesn’t hate me, but everything the feisty blonde says and does speaks otherwise.

  I’m twenty-two, and Ellen and Casey are only twenty. They’re in their sophomore year of college while I’m in my junior year. I’ve dated before, but Ellen’s special.

  I don’t know how to explain it. It’s like she silently asks me for more in all the good ways, and I don’t have to worry about her hating me for wanting to be in charge.

  I want to take care of her. Not like keep her home barefoot and pregnant, but just…

  I don’t know.

  Guys aren’t supposed to want to spank women, or tie them up. But even though Ellen and I haven’t slept together yet, everything she hints at is naughty and dark and playful, all rolled into one. When she playfully says, “yes, Sir,” to me, I can hear the capital S as she looks up at me with those gorgeous green eyes.

  Inviting me.

  Baiting me.

  Tempting me.

  We’d have already slept together if it was up to her. Not that I don’t want to—I definitely want to—but Casey is always around when we’re at Ellen’s, and my roommate is an utter prick who will do his best to interrupt us if he thinks we’re having sex because he hasn’t been laid in over two years.

  I get the feeling Casey will cockblock me to infinity. If she’s around when I’m in the apartment, she’s there. Practically on top of us. Always making snarky comments at my expense, which she disguises as friendly teasing. So I know trying to make love to Ellen with Casey there would be a fricking disaster.

  I’m trying not to be a dick to Casey, but I don’t know how much longer I can not be a dick to her. And if I am a dick to her, I can pretty much guarantee that will end anything that’s developing between me and Ellen.

  Somehow, I have to win over Ellen’s prickly bestie.

  That means…patience.

  And a lot of masturbation.

  * * * *

  Casey and I are both pre-law, so at least we have that in common. We don’t have any classes together, but we take classes from the same instructor.

  I seize a chance to score a couple of points with Casey when I bring her copies of my notes from last year for a class she’s taking now. Ellen’s still getting ready while I’m talking to Casey.

  “Peterson is a dick,” I warn her as I hand her the thumb drive with the copies of my notes saved on it. “He’ll be pedantic for the sake of it and claim it’s to build your chops as an attorney. But the truth is, he’s just a dick who couldn’t cut it in private practice, so he likes to make students miserable for the hell of it. My friend’s older brother had him and told me that. His friend’s father is an attorney who knew the guy years ago. He said Peterson was an idiot in private practice and couldn’t hack it. That’s why he ended up teaching.”

  “Well, they say those who can, do, and those who can’t, teach.” She glances at Ellen’s closed bedroom door and smiles. “Ellen’s excluded from that, of course.”

  “Of course.” Ellen’s an education major who wants to teach special education.

  Casey’s fingers close around the thumb drive. She cocks her head as she stares at me for a long moment. Like she’s trying to decide if I’m for real. “Thanks.” Her light brown gaze narrows suspiciously. “Why do I feel like this is a bribe?”

  “Oh, it’s absolutely a bribe. I’m not going to deny it.”

  Her scowl quirks into a smirk. “You’re honest, I’ll give you that.”

  I shrug. “Besides, if I lie to you, you’ll call me out. I have no reason to lie to you.”

  She crosses her arms over her chest. “You’re stealing my bestie, aren’t you?” There’s a hint of sorrow in her tone, and maybe I’ve hit upon the truth of her prickliness toward me.

  Shaking my head, I glance toward Ellen’s closed bedroom door and drop my voice. “I promise you, Casey, I’ll never come between you two. Even if you and I end up hating each other. My step-dad is a total asshole and tries to control Mom’s friends. My brothers and I swore we’d never be like that.”

  She reappraises me, her tone softening a smidge. “Why’d your parents get divorced?”

  “Widowed,” I say, and she winces.

  “Sorry.”

  “Dad died when I was sixteen. Car accident. We’re hoping she divorces this dick, but for now we’re trying to not get cut out of her life by him.”

  Casey slowly nods. “Sucky parental units are sucky.”

  “Amen.” I extend my hand to her. “I don’t know if Ellen and I will be together for another week or for life. But I want you and I to be friends. Please?”

  I can see her considering it. She finally shakes with me. “Deal.” Without releasing my hand she leans in close and drops her voice. “Keep in mind I’ve killed before. I won’t hesitate to do it again, if I think she’s in danger.”

  I think she’s kidding, bravado that comes off sounding genuine, but I stay serious. “Duly noted.”

  It wasn’t until decades later I learned how serious she was.

  * * * *

  Once Ellen’s ready to go, I move to open the front door for her and hold it, motioning for her to go first. Dad raised us right.

  One of the things that pisses all three of us boys off is that our step-father will barge on ahead without waiting for Mom. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him hold a door for her, either.

  I glance back to see Casey still studying me with that narrowed gaze and head-cock.

  She hates me, but she’s good at not showing it in front of Ellen, I’ll give her all due credit for that. She’ll make a damned good attorney. She’s got the poker face for it.

  I really do want to be friends with her. I don’t want Ellen to feel uncomfortable when we’re around Casey.

  Then again, I don’t know everything about Ellen’s past, or Casey’s. Maybe there’s something there that gives Casey due cause for acting as protective as she does.

  It’s information I’ll have to carefully tease out into the open at some point.

  Right now, we’re only two weeks into this. There’s plenty of time for those kinds of deep discussions to happen.

  Tonight, I’m taking Ellen to a restaurant in South Knoxville I found out about from my roommate. Even though I’m in my third year here, I still don’t know my way around very well once I get off-campus or away from my apartment.

  I’m from outside of Nashville, but our dad was from Knoxville and earned his law degree at UTK. That’s where I wanted to go, and where my younger brother, Chase, who’s twenty, is also attending. He lives in a dorm, preferring to be there around all his friends. I work part-time on campus in the library to earn extra money.

  Mom set aside Dad’s life insurance policy, and the insurance from the settlement from the accident, for us to all go to college, and we’ll be damned if we’ll waste it. Our youngest brother, Tyson, who’s nineteen, ended up with a partial scholarship to Vanderbilt over in Nashville. Neither of us blame him for wanting to go there.

  Besides, he’s close to Mom in Nashville, and can get home several days a week to see her.

  Ellen’s family is from Memphis, but she earned a full-ride scholarship to UTK, lucky for me. She’s an education major and wants to teach special needs kids. She’s the youngest of four sisters, but she was an oopsie baby, as she likes to call herself. Her next oldest sister is eight years older than her, and she’s already graduated, works, got married, and has two kids. Her mom is sixty-two, and her dad is sixty-four. From what I gather, they’re both very con
servative and set in their ways, as are her sisters.

  Being the baby sister, though, she’s managed to escape that, somehow. She’s as liberal as I am, even though we’re both registered Republicans.

  Fortunately, Ellen, and Casey, seem to share my political views.

  I know very little about Casey, except that she is an expert at stretching her meager funds as far as possible, and she’s attending UTK on a scholarship.

  I open and hold the car door for Ellen and wonder if Casey is watching us from the apartment’s living room window.

  She can watch all she wants—I am who I am, and I don’t owe her anything.

  “Did she warm up to you any tonight?” Ellen playfully asks once we’re on our way.

  “I don’t know,” I say. “She didn’t growl. That’s good, right?”

  I love Ellen’s giggle. It’s light and airy and a balm for my soul that’s felt so damn dark ever since Dad’s death.

  Even darker since Mom married that goddamned Jefferson two years ago.

  “She loves me,” Ellen says. I don’t understand her wistful tone, but I don’t question her about it. “She really doesn’t have any family,” she adds. “I’m kind of it.”

  I immediately feel like a shit. “Sorry,” I say, meaning it. “You never told me that.”

  “Please don’t tell her I said that, though. She’ll probably tell you herself, eventually. She’s got a lot of stuff in her past. Not good stuff, either.” Ellen glances out the passenger window for a moment. A pensive air surrounds her, so I don’t interrupt.

  After a moment, she turns back to me. “I appreciate you bringing her those notes. I know she’ll be really thankful. Just remember when you think she’s being grouchy, everything she says and does regarding me comes from a place of genuine love. She literally doesn’t have anyone but me—her parents are dead and she has no family.”

  We haven’t really had heavy discussions yet. I mean, I told her that my dad died, and that I hate my step-father, but I didn’t want to come off as some grumpy, whiny guy or anything. But learning that about Casey helps me temper some of my aggravation.

  “I’ll tell you what I told her tonight—even if Casey and I grow to hate each other, I’ll never come between you as friends. I’m a big boy. I can deal with someone not liking me. Especially if it’s someone who makes you happy.”

  She looks up at me with those big, sweet green eyes of hers. “I don’t know. I thought you said me not liking Monty Python might be a deal-breaker.” Then she smiles again.

  “I said no one’s perfect, sweetie.”

  “Casey likes Monty Python.”

  “Hmm. Does she, now?”

  Ellen shrugs. “I didn’t tell you that, though.” She reaches over and lays her hand on my thigh.

  I cover it with mine as I smile. “I didn’t hear a dang thing.”

  Chapter Three

  Now

  At forty-four, Casey-Marie Blaine is only two years younger than me. We went to college together and I met her when I started dating her best friend and roommate, Ellen Louise Turner.

  Case has been there for me every time I’ve turned around, even though in the beginning things were kind of rocky between us. After she graduated from law school and passed the bar, at my behest she came to work with me at the same law firm I’d joined, which was run by a man who’d been friends with Dad since college.

  By that time we were already inseparable as friends, and doubly so as coworkers. It became a running joke in the law firm to sic the two of us on opposing counsel if they wanted to end things quickly. Around the office, people called us work spouses, even before I ran in my first election. That was because Ellen started joking with us about it and took great joy in spreading that title herself.

  The funny thing is, I was the nice guy. Literally. Case was the one who was bloodthirsty and vicious. She had to teach me that cut-throat mentality because it didn’t come naturally to me back then.

  Unfortunately, over the past two years, it’s become second nature to me.

  Case is also the one who convinced me I should run for public office when our district’s state Senator decided not to run for another term. Ellen had suggested it, but I really didn’t think I had it in me. Then Case jumped on board, agreeing with her.

  I agreed, with a condition of my own. The deal was Casey had to be there by my side for all of it, running my campaigns and being my chief of staff. I damn well knew I couldn’t do it without her, and wouldn’t even want to try. She had no desire to run for office herself.

  Honestly? I wouldn’t have run for office if Casey hadn’t been enthusiastically all-in from the start.

  There’s never been anything inappropriate between me and Casey, either. We’re friends. Family.

  Especially now.

  The kids and I are the only “family” Case has left. She’s their adopted aunt and they grew up referring to her as their aunt. People who didn’t know any better assumes Casey was Ellen’s sister. We both bought our houses at the same time twelve years ago. Hers sits four down from mine. We live in a small, exclusive gated community of twenty mini-manors. There’s only one entrance, and an eight-foot concrete wall surrounds the entire perimeter of the development. I know all my neighbors, including two judges, four attorneys, two doctors, and a writer. We have lots of privacy with long driveways, tall fences and walls, a thick screen of trees and bushes. The location—so far—means I’ve been able to hold on to a modicum of personal privacy.

  I don’t live in the Tennessee Residence because, at first, they were still in the process of trying to move my predecessor’s stuff out in anticipation of moving in the guy who thought he was the new governor, and who technically was our new governor, for less than a week.

  Fortunately, public outcry to install me as governor, once I was discovered alive and rescued, immediately overrode any chance of that guy trying to fight to stay in office. The State Assembly recalled his appointment and awarded it to me.

  I also told the State Assembly that, considering the circumstances, I’d prefer to stay in my own home. I still had Aussie at home, and after everything that happened I wasn’t going to uproot her from home her senior year of high school. I’m not that far from the capitol building, anyway. Casey and Declan ran numbers and immediately released them, proving it would, in fact, save the state money with me living in my own home.

  That was all the press needed to declare me a man of the people.

  Whatever.

  We currently use the Tennessee Residence—the official governor’s mansion—as a museum and for special events, like state dinners and whatnot. Since I’m not living there, I authorized them to rent it out for applicable occasions, which brings in money. So not only am I saving the state money, we’re making money off me not living there. And I’m not asking that the state pay any expenses for my home, either, other than picking up the salaries for the EPU officers assigned to my detail.

  Which are fewer in number because my house isn’t open to the public.

  I’m sure that will piss off the governors who come after me, that they’ll have to find a way to justify living there—and if they don’t already have homes in or around Nashville, or if their homes are a logistical nightmare, I can see they’d have a valid argument for living there.

  It saves our state money by needing less security at the Tennessee Residence, but it gives my head of security hives. I need my privacy and, unless the situation warrants, I don’t have full-time security officers stationed outside my house.

  It was something that I frequently butted heads with them about when I was the Speaker, too. I wanted my kids able to be kids, and Ellen or I drove them to school.

  But it wouldn’t have felt right to me, living there alone once Aussie left for school. My kids are all away at college now, and I wanted to remain where my memories of Ellen surround me.

  One concession I made with my new job is that I paid—out of my own pocket—for a new, upgraded, state-of-the-art
security system for my house, including outside motion-detector lights and cameras, and several panic-button stations throughout my home. There are always extra officers from the Executive Protection Unit stationed at the development’s front gate for immediate response when I’m home at nights and on the weekends, and people can’t randomly drive in and out of our community.

  All visitors have to be declared and cleared first, all mail or deliveries coming to me gets screened, and even a simple pizza or Uber Eats delivery going to one of my neighbors gets an officer shadowing them while they’re inside the development. When I order anything like that, it gets delivered to an officer at the front gate, and they bring it to the house for me.

  There have been a few times I’ve needed an officer stationed at the end of my driveway, but that was early on, right after my return. Fortunately, the news cycle quickly spun on, relegating the tragic widower governor to the back page and allowing me to dispense with that level of security.

  Now that the media attention on me from the rescue has long since died down, my neighbors probably love me. We literally have the safest neighborhood in all of Nashville.

  Case is tough, strong. After my rescue, she was the one who immediately stepped in and took over for me and helped me keep moving forward when I didn’t think I had the strength to go on.

  Ironic, right? I survive a goddamned plane crash and being shipwrecked for three weeks, and when I finally return home to my kids, that’s what nearly does me in?

  But it was. The crushing agony knowing I was now…alone.

  That I’d left home nearly two months earlier as a happily married man with so many plans for our future, and returned home a crushed widower.

  I don’t understand how Case always has the perfect words—or sometimes knows when not to speak—but she’s kept me going.

  I still can’t do this without her, and I wouldn’t even try.

  Yes, I’ve absolutely told her that, too. And she promised not to leave me. It makes me feel glad in a guilty sort of way that she doesn’t have a steady boyfriend in her life. She never has dated the same guy for long.