Night shifts black

We don’t move for a long time. Casey holding Luke, me serving as a witness to this latest miracle, all of us thinking about the ghost chair locked in the office down the hall. I want to destroy it. Crush it into the unrecognizable pile of garbage it is, but it’s not my demon to kill.

“She called me, too, that night,” Casey says quietly.

We both stare at him in shock.

He nods and draws in a ragged breath. “Obviously, I didn’t know what she was pla

“Casey…” Luke says, but Casey pulls away and wipes his eyes.

“I blamed myself for a long time, too, but now I know that blaming only helps if it has the power to change us. To make us better.” Casey meets Luke’s gaze, almost pleading with him, yet gentle at the same time. “Elena’s death made us better, Luke. And now we have a chance to make it matter. To make her matter!”

Luke clenches his jaw, and I can tell Casey’s words struck hard. He stares at the far wall, his mind clearly taking off in many directions at once.

“She matters, Case,” he whispers, looking up at him again. “So much.”

Casey nods. “I know she does. I know.” He squeezes Luke’s arm, and glances at me. I smile through my tears, so full of compassion and love I can’t even speak. He seems to understand anyway as his eyes soften and he returns a weak smile of his own.

We’re silent again. All of us, but it’s different this time. It’s softer, more comforting. We’re exhausted from what just happened, and I finally force myself up from the couch. I don’t know why, but suddenly, I can only think of one thing. One ending to this incredible, horrible, impossible night.

“I’m going to make some tea,” I a

I’m met with two shocked stares that quickly transform into perfect grins.

“Tea sounds great,” Luke sighs.

∞∞∞

Luke takes his tea to his room, and I place a second steaming cup in front of Casey who’s perched at the island.

“I can’t believe you’re getting two jaded rockers to trade in their whisky for Earl Grey.”

“Lady Grey,” I correct.

“Lady Grey?”

“Lady Grey. It’s milder.”

He gives me a skeptical look. “You’re making me drink a tea called ‘Lady Grey’? You realize this could ruin my career, right?”

“And you will love it,” I assure him, rounding the counter to his side.

“Oh, will I?”

I nod with a sly grin and force his stool around to face me.

“Oh yeah.”

I slide my hands around his waist, forgetting all about the tea. “Besides, you still owe me a research study,” I tease, gripping his shirt and pulling him off the chair.

“Huh?”

“You know, an empirical investigation of whether I like you better with or without clothing?”

His expression turns mischievous as it clicks. “Hmm…that’s right. Well, you know me. I’m all about science,” he returns.

“Good. I was counting on that,” I reply, moving my grasp to the waist of his jeans.

I pull him against me, forcing our bodies together, loving every desperate ache of the mounting tension. His eyes intensify, tracing me, searching me. When his addictive grin breaks, every cell in my body erupts. I wonder if that smile will always make me this crazy.

I can feel the violent thump of his pulse, the hard pressure of his muscles, his hips, braced against mine. I want him so much I can’t concentrate on anything else.

 “So, which is it? On or off?” he whispers, torturing me with a long, hungry kiss that leaves me gasping.

“Off. Definitely off,” I breathe, pulling him toward the couch.