Part 30 (2/2)
Chapter Forty.
One month later...
”See, now that was a good, solid, healthy meal,” Dad informs Mom as he opens the door to our new house and waits for her to pa.s.s through it.
We closed on our new home yesterday and tonight is most definitely a night of celebration.
”You're ridiculous,” Mom huffs. ”It wasn't anything to brag about, Gerald. It was steak! Anyone can cook a steak!” she exclaims, putting her purse on the couch and turning back to my dad who's not trying to hide his grin. ”Oh, just you never mind.”
Em's divorce is moving along as fast as it can. f.u.c.kstick Greg still hasn't contested anything so far. After running into him while with my mom, Em is certain he won't cause trouble. He's keeping his s.h.i.+t locked tight around town, too, not spreading rumors or lies about his adulterous affair which led Em straight to me.
The fallout from the burning of Creed was minimal in comparison to what I had feared it was going to be.
Reluctantly following my lawyer's plan of action, I admitted to the role I played in Hangar's death. This was the only piece of all of this I wasn't sure was going to play in my favor. For the most part, however, it turned out okay.
Even though toward the end I had a feeling he wasn't so bad, it seems as though the entire time at Creed, I had a friend on the inside. And it was a friend of the law enforcement variety. I didn't know this at the time of the crime, so the judge still cited I took a man's life, but it was under threat from Viktor. Luckily, with this agent in witness, the circ.u.mstances surrounding the crime, and Hangar's long list of past offenses against women taken into consideration, it was explained that all who investigated were in agreement.
Had I not done what I did at the time, I could've been the one left not breathing.
”Oh, my G.o.d, Max,” Mom breathes as she enters the living room with Em standing beside her. They're locked at the arms. ”I love it!”
”We still have a lot to unpack,” Em explains to us all. ”But the new paint and carpet have already made a big difference, I think.”
”It has,” Mom confirms. ”It's lovely.”
The three-bedroom house we finally chose is only a block away from Mom and Dad. Since they've had a chance to meet and already fall in love with Casey, it's good we're closer to them.
I imagine Casey spending more and more time with my parents in the future. Especially my dad, who's been keeping her busy in his garage showing her how to use his vast variety of tools.
”Casey hasn't seen her room finished yet,” Em whispers to Dad, who now stands on the other side of her and Mom near the stairs leading up to it. ”We can't wait to show her. It's not completely done, but it's close enough we don't want to wait.”
Emma's parents were understandably saddened by the loss of their daughter, Dee Dee. However, they were fully aware of the life she'd been leading and they knew of Casey's existence, but not the way she was being forced to survive in it. They've met Casey and I'm not opposed to their future involvement in her life, but not until she's settled and tells us she's ready.
Casey, standing behind me, pulls on my s.h.i.+rt and burrows her way under my arm once I give her the s.p.a.ce. Her wide eyes look to mine hearing Em talk about her new room. I wink and her face reddens before going back to watch the others gawking around the area.
”What's up, monkey?” I ask quietly as to not embarra.s.s her.
She shakes her head briefly then looks to my parents taking in the improvements we've already made on the house.
”They're a little nuts, aren't they?”
She doesn't answer, but smiles.
Casey's been seeing a therapist three times a week. This started the day after we got her away from Creed. It's been stressful and intense, but even as painful as the sessions have been, we've come to understand they're exactly what she needs.
For a few days, while I was getting myself together and we were going through the motions of verifying what would or wouldn't happen to me, she had stayed with Emma at my parents' house. They all expressed she had been rather quiet, even in front of Em. But when I finally saw her, she was so quiet I had concerns that she was reverting back into herself. However, as she started talking to the therapist more frequently, and eventually asked that Em and I join her in a session, she's progressively gotten better. Adjusting to her life with us will take time. And now that we're finally truly together, we have all the time in the world.
Looking down, I ask, ”Do you want to see your room?”
My fear is she'll hate it. As we decorated it, Em rea.s.sured me it was perfect for her, but I'm not so certain. I have no clue what a newly twelve-year-old girl enjoys and to be honest, I'm not so certain Casey would know herself.
Casey nods before looking up at me. ”I'm supposed to find my pictures for Doctor Stacy. She wants to see them.”
When it was approved and filed with the court that Em was to take sole custody of Casey, we were elated to give her the news. We knew this is what we wanted, but to ensure it was what Casey wanted as well, we waited and told her in a place where we knew she had grown comfortable.
Emma, Casey and I were sitting in Dr. Stacy's office. We discussed what being a part of a healthy family meant and what a future with one could look like.
Casey's eyes were wide in wonder as I sat next to her, waiting with bated breath to be able to promise her a life just like the one the doctor was describing.
Once I had the words out, that her place was with us, it was barely a second before Casey stood quickly and positioned herself in front of me. She threw her arms around my neck and happy tears fell down her face. She cried for what felt like an hour, hardly taking a breath between the rush of emotions as Doctor Stacy sat smiling behind her desk.
I was concerned for her, and rightfully so. Casey had been told her whole life that her father left because he didn't want her. She said she never dared to imagine having a man in her life who could serve the same purpose. We were specific in a.s.suring her that even though she wasn't of my own blood, she was still very important to me. After hearing all of this, it was obvious she was relieved to have a place she knew she could always call home.
Placing my hand on top of her head, just as I've always done before, I squeeze gently. ”Okay, let's do this, monkey. Your new room awaits.”
”I need my camera!” Mom cuts in.
Dad snorts and pulls my mom to his side as Emma walks toward me and Casey. ”Give 'em a minute, woman,” Dad demands. ”Let Casey have a look, then we'll take your ridiculous pictures.”
”Not ridiculous. You're ridiculous,” Mom spits back. Conceding, though, Mom sighs with feigned defeat then whispers to Casey, ”We'll wait here, honey.”
Once we've rounded the stairs, Casey finds the door to her bedroom closed. The last time she had been here, the room was riddled with plaster, paint, and trash. She picked out her wall colors, pink and purple, and trusted us to use them wisely. I could tell she'd been excited the last two weeks, but only by her short smiles when it was discussed. She never outwardly exuded any excitement.
”Open it,” I tell her, using my hand on her back to push her forward.
She takes the few steps to stand in front of the door. When her hand holds the k.n.o.b, Casey grins back at Em and me standing at the top of the stairs, patiently waiting.
As soon as the door opens, the sun spills brightly into the dim hallway. Casey's face mirrors that of an angel as the rays. .h.i.t her fully smiling face. Without looking back, Casey takes two steps into her room. Em and I follow closely behind.
Her new s.p.a.ce can only be described as one set up for an artist. Emma decided that since Casey is most comfortable with a pencil in her hand and sketching, she'd most likely continue to feel that way if she persisted to use that talent as an outlet.
Other than her bed and dresser, Casey's room is filled with paper, pencils, easels, drafting tables, and a lot of light. So much light that I hope she never feels the effects of her old room again.
”What do you think?” Em whispers as we take a step inside. Casey's back is to us, so it's hard to gauge her true reaction.
Casey doesn't turn around to answer. Instead, she heads straight toward her desk, the two portraits she drew for Doctor Stacy resting on its surface.
One of Anna.
One of Cilas.
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