Page 11 of Hiding from Hope
I shake myself and pretend his previous statement was in my head and didn’t actually happen as I stumble on something that might be a laugh, commencing the thumbnail biting like a child. “I’m sure it will.”
Sensing that this little bit of openness, this tiny slither of friendship I seem to have been able to pull from him is as much as I’m getting tonight, I grab my bag and walk to the opposite side of the coffee counter. “I guess I’ll be on my way. Feel like making me that Turkish delight special to go?”
“What’s the M?” He ignores my question and I follow his gaze to the lettering on my purse. The C.M.B. my parents had personalized on the last gift they brought back from their travels. “Oh, Moira. My middle name.” I look back up to his eyes, and they are assessing, his lips pulled slightly to the side as he huffs a breath, almost like it was a laugh?
“Something funny?” I smile at him, enjoying this soft, relaxed version of the grouch.
“Just… it makes sense.” He looks back to me, his slight smile still firmly in place. I tilt my head as he continues, “The star of the sea. Guiding lost sailors home. It’s just fitting for you.” I have no idea what he means or what he is saying, but I smile and nod. “You have Scottish family?” he asks suddenly, and I have to think before I answer.
“Ah, yeah, I think so. Distant on Mom’s side. I think Moira was like a great grandmother or something. How do you know all that?”
He looks around the shop as though the answer is obvious before he answers. “I read. A lot.” He places the Turkish Delight deliciousness on the counter in front of me. “Your strange concoction. To go.” He pushes it forward at the same time that I grab it and I brush his fingers gently, a zap of energy again coursing over my skin. I quickly pull my hand and the drink away and take several steps back toward the door, making a mental note to do something about my body’s constant reaction to this guy. “Thanks, JJ. For tonight, and for this. You do deserve kindness, you know. Maybe you’d get more if you gave some yourself.” I sigh, biting my bottom lip to stop a laugh from tumbling out at his expression. He looks both constipated and amused all at once, and it’s refreshing. To finally see a range of emotions on someone who I haven’t seen express anything other than anger in the last few years.
I don’t wait for his response before I turn and leave the shop, rapidly breathing in the fresh air and heading toward my pre-ordered Uber.
Jessie
I stand in front of apartment 23A and remain solidly in place, without having even knocked. I raise my fist, then drop it. Taking a breath and running a hand down my face in exasperation. Whether it’s because Rosie’s acceptance means I win a point with Addison or because I have no idea if Casey is here or at the studio, and because I can’t work out why the fuck I hope she is here. But then I also don’t want an audience to me actively swallowing my pride and apologizing to a woman for being mean to her friend. This all seems very… childish. You are a grownup. I chastise myself, and on a quick gust of confidence, I knock rapidly on the door.
It swings open, Rosie answers and the moment her eyes lock on mine, her smile drops and she just says, “Nope,” before slamming it closed again.
I fight the urge to grunt, and I try again. “C’mon Rosie. I’m a grown ass man, don’t make me beg.”
The door swings open again, and her usual scowl is in place. Not the one she gives innocent men she sets her sights on. This one is saved specifically for me. And probably anyone else that she thoroughly loathes.
“What?” she spits as she crosses her arms and leans on the door frame.
I lift the book, which I suddenly realize I haven’t wrapped. “Truce?” Great apology, Jessie.
Her eyes lighten for a split second as she sees the book, before she corrects her facial features and looks back up to my face. She raises an eyebrow, which I take as a win. She is probably counting down from five before she slams the door again. I have to make this good. I take a deep breath, swallow my manhood, and give the best apology I can muster with my arm still outstretched, holding the book. “I’m sorry for making Addison cry. For hurting her when she was already hurt, and for not being there for her when she needed me.” She blinks expectantly and tilts her head like she hasn’t heard enough. I scratch in frustration at my beard before I force out the rest. “I’m a horrible and worthless dick-bag, and I deserve to burn in the pits of hell because Addison is amazing and I’m the worst.” I recite the words Casey texted me. The words she said would work as a last resort if the book didn’t win me any leverage. I hadn’t asked, but she said she had last-minute nerves for me and was really just hoping I had a win.
I was just lost on the tiny, inconsequential fact that Casey had been thinking about me. Cared about my feelings and wanted to help. Whatever the hell that meant.
After a few tense seconds, Rosie’s entire face changes. She plasters a big, toothy smile on her face, leans forward, and snatches the book from my hands.
“Oh my god. Jessie? It’s so nice to see you. It’s been a while!” She announces it like she is genuinely pleased to see me and didn’t just listen to that apology. She turns to head back inside, leaving the door open in what I assume is an invite. I hadn’t planned to stay, but I’m on dangerous footing, so I follow her in. Before I can get any other words out, my chest tightens slightly as I find Casey in the kitchen and Addison on the couch with Noah.
“Ahh…” Great, I had an audience.
“Good job, Jay,” Casey whispers, with her back turned to everyone else, and my entire soul feels like it warms inside me. I quickly shake off her praise and the way it makes me want to do more things that Casey likes. Makes me want to get more of those smiles.
“Lovely selection, Jessie. How’d you pick?” Rosie questions as she joins Addy and Noah on the couch. Noah raises an eyebrow, his expression knowing as he enjoys watching me squirm. I don’t know why he looks so smug; Rosie scares the shit out of him, more than she does me.
I shrug at Rosie, and she narrows her eyes. God, this woman. “The dirtier the better, am I right?” I sigh. She throws her head back in a howling laugh and Addison just shakes her head, burrowing into Noah’s side.
“Food’s up!” Casey calls from the dining table, unnecessarily. Sure, the apartment is larger than mine, but we are all still technically in the same room.
“Oh, I didn’t mean to intrude. I’ll catch you guys later.” I turn and head for the door.
“Don’t be ridiculous! Stay, there is plenty!” Casey swats me on the arm as she makes her way back to the kitchen.
It brings me back to the moment in the café on Saturday, when she left her hand in the middle of my chest, burning a path straight through me as she told me I was the most deserving of kindness. It was all at once shocking and unbelievable. That she firstly thought I was worth someone’s effort in kindness or forethought, and secondly that her simply saying so made me want to throw her on the counter, rip her clothes from her body, and do dirty, exciting, and unspeakable things. I had to mentally slap myself out of it. She is best friends with my sister. She is the epitome of love, happiness, and kindness. This woman who has me so fucking confused and frustrated. The one person who I have no right feeling confused or frustrated about, no right marring with all my baggage.
“You’re going to want to stay. Casey made her chicken pesto, and it is honestly the greatest thing ever.” Addison groans as she pulls herself into the chair. Noah and Rosie quickly sit down, leaving the only empty seat next to Casey. I pull a tight smile in her direction and take a seat, instantly unsure if this is a good idea. The dinner and the proximity.
She sits down but waits. I don’t know what for, but I guess maybe I should wait, too? Maybe she prays?
I watch as everyone digs in, returning my eyes to Casey, and I realize she is waiting for them. To compliment her food, to enjoy it. She bites nervously on her thumbnail, something she seems to do a lot, a small line appearing between her perfect auburn eyebrows. She is genuinely afraid they won’t like her cooking. The bubbly, happy, and confident woman goes and surprises the fuck out of me by suddenly being shy, anxious, and uncertain of herself. I almost want to grab her shoulders and shake her. Ask her how she could possibly be concerned, how there couldn’t be a soul on this planet that wouldn’t immediately fall in love with Casey Baker.