His eyes glimmer like they did when Dad bought him a car for his sixteenth birthday. Proud. Excited. Happy. Shocked. When he looks at her, he regards her as though she’s a gift he’s been waiting decades to open.
I don’t like the glimmer.
I don’t like the look.
I especially don’t like the way she stares back at him.
As if he saved her—which in a way, he did.
As though he holds everything she could ever want in the palm of his hand.
He holds everything I want in the palm of his hand. Casey’s tiny one is locked in his grip as they walk around the arcade playing games. I’ve never seen her look so beautiful. The lights from the machines shine shades of pinks and blues and greens on her snowy blond hair. Like she’s a blinking Christmas tree. Nobody at the arcade pays her any attention. They walk by as though she doesn’t matter.
To us Kline brothers, she’s all that matters.
I wish I were like Tyler. I wish I could openly grab her hand and parade her around, showing everyone who she belongs to. Instead, I have to skulk in the corner with my hoodie pulled over my head and my noise cancelling headphones on my head. I can still hear the sounds of the games and the teenagers laughing, but it’s muted in a way that doesn’t make me shut down.
With Casey, I can’t afford to shut down.
Every moment with her is a morsel that I desperately crave to devour.
Even watching her from afar as she has the time of her life is enough. Tonight, when she’s sleeping in her bed, I’ll go see her. I’ve tried to leave her alone because she’s made it clear she doesn’t want me, but I can’t hold back any longer.
I’m edgy and irritated and frantic.
I just need to breathelicktastetouchsmellfeel her.
Someone brushes against me and I shudder. I don’t fucking like it when they touch me. There’s only one person I want to touch every part of me. One person I want to wrap my naked body around. One person I want to taste and adore.
Fuck, I hate how I am.
Sometimes, I’ll scour the Internet for hours. I’m dying for answers. Therapies. Anything to help me be better for her. Casey needs affection and adoration and laughter.
I can give her nothing.
My chest aches inside at that notion.
Nothing.
Nothing.
Nothing.
If I could somehow make her see how I feel about her in a way that means something. A daring action. A romantic declaration. Something that shows I need her and refuse to ever let her go.
My hands curl into fists. I want to yank my phone out and tell her how perfect she is. I’m trembling to do just that. And yet, my body is working against me now. The sounds and smells and people everywhere are overwhelming the fuck out of me. I need to go home, crawl under my weighted blanket, pet my cute-as-hell cats, and then I’ll text her to let her know.
Then.
Then.
Then.
But what about now?
My eyes lift and I seek her out. She’s at the pinball machine banging on the side buttons. Tyler is leaned up against the machine and laughing. It’s a memory I want to lock inside my head forever. When you never want to forget, you lock it away. You keep it until the end. Tyler and Dad never thought I remembered Mom.
Her smell—sweet like a field of flowers in the summer.
Her laugh—throaty and loud.
Her touch—comforting.
Mom has been gone for so long, but she’s not gone because in one moment, I can conjure up the exact lines on her face. The precise shade of green in her eyes. How her silky brown hair seemed to catch light and sparkle with red strands.
She’s not gone.
She’s here.
Just like Dad.
Just like Tyler will be.
Casey too.
All mine, safe inside my head where I can be the person I want to be. I can laugh and hug and joke and cry. A family. A family without trials or pain. No cancers or death or abandonment.
Happy.
Happy.
Happy.
Someone else bumps against me and I jerk away from them. My body is thrumming with energy—the negative kind.
Buzzzzzzzz.
Buzzzzzzzz.
Buzzzzzzzz.
The feeling is maddening. I like the static that Casey brings. Soft, white noise. Soothing. The chaos brewing inside of me gnaws at my inner self. Reminds him that this body is a cruel warden. A punisher of my spirit.
Buzzzzzzzz.
Buzzzzzzzz.
“You’re standing in the way, asshole,” some young guy mutters. Everyone around him laughs.
“NO!” I bark out. My stupid goddamned go-to word. It makes me want to rip my hair out every time it slips from my lips. Sometimes it’s the only word I can get out.
“What the fuck did you say?” he demands.
“NO!”
Buzzzzzzz.
Buzzzzzzz.
CaseyCaseyCaseyCasey.
I crave to look at her—to calm the storm inside me—but all I can do is focus on my shoes. Cat hair. Lots and lots of cat hair all over my black Chucks. As I notice strands of gray or white or black, I wonder which cat each hair belongs to. What a game it would be to sit them all around me on my bed, plucking each follicle from my shoe and matching it up to the appropriate animal.
Buzzzzzzz.
“He’s a fucking retard!”
I flinch at the derogatory word. It’s not the first time I’ve been called that and something tells me it won’t be the last. I want to ram my fist through his nose, but I can’t stop staring at the hairs on my shoes.
“What the hell did you just call him?” The voice is shrill. Protective. Furious. Mine.
“I called him a fucking retard, ugly bitch.”
A screech pierces its way through my noise cancelling headphones and burrows its way into the center of my brain. For a moment, the buzzing stops as the white noise settles around me. I’m able to seek her out with my eyes and focus on her gorgeous face.
Not ugly.
Not ugly at all.
She’s the most perfect thing I’ve ever seen.
Hair so smooth, I crave to pet it like I do Misty and Rainy and Foggy.
Lips so supple, I urge to run my tongue over and over and over the bottom one until I’ve blistered her from the repetitious touch.
Blue eyes so bright, she’s sure to burn holes in every motherfucker in this arcade.
I’m still staring at her as though I’m a deer just waiting to get slammed by a truck because I can’t fucking look away. She charges the teenager who is much bigger than she is without any fear in her eyes. Pulls back her arm and then cracks the guy right on his nose.
Pop!
Everything happens in slow motion. Tyler arrives and grabs her by the back of her shirt, pulling her away. The guy staggers away, his hands on his face as blood seeps from his nose. A few people laughing and saying, “You just got your ass kicked by a girl!”
Tyler almost has Casey pulled out the door when the asshole snarls—albeit in a nasally way.
“I’m going to kick the shit out of that whore.”
“NO!” I roar, rage controlling my movements now.
His eyes fly to mine and he must sense something in me because he gapes at me. My shoulders tremble with fury and my fisted hands come up in front of me. It’s a promise. I’ll lay him out flat if he even thinks about touching her. Rage numbs the buzzing and demands control.
“Torin,” Tyler hollers. “Let’s go, brother.”
I jolt into action and stalk past the idiot who just got his ass handed to him by a girl.
My girl.
Defending my honor.
I’m never letting her go.