Night shifts black

“I’m Callie Roland, twenty-three, born and raised in Shelteron, Pe

I finally dare to look again, and his eyes have softened. He takes the stool beside me and holds out his hand.

“Casey Barrett, twenty-five, born and raised in Houston, Texas.”

“Houston?” I repeat in surprise, remembering Luke’s recent journey.

He nods and gives me a sad smile. “Elena Barrett Craven was my sister.”

 

∞∞∞

 

My heart stops. I stare at Casey in shock, not sure what else to do. It can’t be…but it almost has to be at the same time.

“I’m sorry to just dump that on you. I thought you should know. Maybe that matters, maybe it doesn’t,” he says quietly.

“Of course it matters!” I cry, still shaken from the news.

He looks away. “More pieces of the puzzle, huh?”

“More insight into you,” I correct, taking his hand. He glances at me, and I see that it was my turn to surprise him. “I’m so sorry, Casey,” I continue, my heart breaking as I recast everything I’d understood about the situation into a new light. “And yet you stood by him? Cared for him?”

Casey stares at the floor. “We were both hurting. Maybe I thought we were standing by each other in the begi

I hug him then. I can’t help it. I don’t know how else to explain how he never ceases to amaze me.

“You’re a special person, Casey Barrett,” I whisper.

He laughs against my hair. “You’ve only known me a few days. I’ll get on your nerves soon enough.”

I squeeze tighter, finding that unlikely.

He pulls back and searches my face. I want him to kiss me again, but don’t dare to hope lightening will strike a third time. A brief struggle flickers behind his eyes before he finally smiles and sits back.

“So does that mean I’ve won enough points to continue our Dead Head marathon?”

I groan. “Do we have to? Right before bed?”

He shrugs and gives me that look I’ll never be able to resist.

“Fine,” I concede with a sigh. “But I maintain the Power of the Mute Button.”

“Deal. But no fast-forwarding.”

I grunt. “Deal.”

 

∞∞∞

 

I can’t sleep that night. Our Dead Head binge turns out to be the least of my problems as I stare at the ceiling of the guest room. Casey took the couch, and part of me wants to wake him up just so someone else can share in my misery. But I realize that would make me an awful human being, so I manage to stay rooted under my sheets. Still, I don’t know how much longer I can lie here with my riotous mind.

While thoughts of Luke pound against my skull like always, it’s surprisingly Casey’s face that keeps me awake tonight. I can’t stop thinking about his revelation, about the number of conversations he’d had that he could have made about himself, and didn’t. Here I’d been counting on him as my support, Luke’s rock, and he’d had as much reason as any of us to need an anchor. He calls himself Luke’s brother and I’d been assuming that was figurative.

I think back to all his warnings about me falling for Luke. No wonder he was so sensitive to that likelihood. And here I’d been a

I have to fight the urge to go to him now, to wake him up with a confusing explosion of words and feelings that will make no sense to him since he hasn’t been in my head for the last three hours. And that’s when I realize I have no choice. I have to do something before I self-destruct. There’s only one way I know how to capture what I’m feeling. One thing that helps me turn the chaos in my head into something livable.

I climb out of bed and grab my laptop.

 

“How was I supposed to know your smile was only a distraction?

How am I supposed to feel, stuck in veiled conversation?

Because you never let me in, now I have to watch you drowning.

Quiet suffering speak!

 

I’ll stay here, don’t look down.

There’s nothing waiting for you on the ground.

You’re stronger than you’re feeling now.

I’ll stay here.

I’ll stay.

 

How was I supposed to know you wore silence like some worn out fashion?

How are you supposed to heal, so afraid of our reaction?

Because you have to let me in, please stop all of this pretending.

Oh quiet suffering speak!

 

Quiet suffering, I hear it. Deafening.

Quiet suffering, I feel it. Pounding.

Stop these games, you don’t need it. They’re maddening.

Quiet suffering, I don’t believe it. I’m waiting.

 

I’ll stay here, don’t look down.

There’s nothing waiting for you on the ground.

You’re stronger than you’re feeling now.

I’ll stay.”