Change of Heart (10 page)

“I have to,” she says as she hurries passed me. If I’m not mistaken, there are tears in her eyes, too.

“Casey, please!” I call out, trying to grab hold of her before she’s out of reach. I miss.

She briefly pauses at the end of the dock. Without turning around, she says “Goodbye, Decker.”

I watch her run across the grass and into the back door of her house. She doesn’t look back once. Through the second story window, I see the soft glow of her bedroom light as it turns on, and her figure approaches the glass. She seems startled to see me still standing on the dock, even though it’s only been a minute since she left me here. While holding my eyes, she raises her hand and locks the window. Then she closes the blinds.

And just like that, she’s gone. Out of my sight.

But not for long…

***

“You sure about this?”

I look up at Sam as I close the lid of my laptop. “More sure than I’ve ever been in my life.”

“For the record, I think you’re crazy.” I’m not surprised he feels that way. Sam did have a front row seat to Casey’s “Decker Bash.”

“I don’t know what else to do,” I say, running my hands through my hair in frustration.

“How about nothing? You’ve been fine the past two years. After that first year, you got past it. Why go down that road again? The girl’s clearly got some baggage and she’s really pissed at you.”

I shoot him a glare. He’s starting to piss me off.

He rolls his eyes in response, “Whatever, dude. Your funeral.”

He’s probably right. Casey is going to kill me.

I had watched from the living room window as her car pulled away from her house this morning. Her mother had looked completely devastated. The Casey I used to know never would have left her mom like that. High school Casey would have stayed with her mom all summer after losing her dad. Shit, high school Casey would have come home more than once in three years. I don’t know what her deal is—it can’t
all
be due to me and our fucked up relationship—but I’m going to find out.

Spending time with her again after all these years…it felt like old times. Having the chance to hold her in my arms again ignited something within me. I don’t exactly know what it was—maybe love? All things with Casey are practically impossible to define. But it felt good. And now…now I just feel empty. I miss her. I held her not fifteen hours ago, and I already miss her. I thought I had my best friend back. I couldn’t have been more wrong.

For the past twenty-four hours or so, all I’ve replayed in my mind is those words she’d said at the bar. I should have done a better job of showing her how much I valued our friendship in high school. It makes me sick to know she thinks—thought—I’d been using her. It was far from it. She was my best friend, and I just wanted to be with her. I wanted every experience I ever had to be with her. Just like our first kiss and all the intimate moments that followed.

She didn’t like the popular crowd, so I thought I was doing her a favor by not inviting her out with my other friends. She was too smart for them, too good for them. They did stupid high school shit, and Casey was so high above all that. She’d thought I believed she wasn’t good enough for me? How about the truth…I wasn’t good enough for her. No one was good enough for her. It’s like that Tal Bachman song, “She’s So High.”

Maybe if I’d just made the effort to make her feel included and allowed her to decide whether or not to go out with me and my friends…maybe that would have made all the difference. But now I’ll never know because the damage has already been done. If I could write a letter to my seventeen year old self…

I’m such a fuck up. First Casey, then my shoulder, now Casey again…

But that’s about to change. What Casey Evans doesn’t know is that I’m not letting her get away easily this time. I’m going to bust my ass to right all the wrongs I did. I can’t go back in time, but I can prove to her that she means as much to me as I do to her. Or as much as I’d meant to her once…I don’t even know how she feels towards me anymore.

There’s only one way to find out…

Chapter Fifteen

Casey

Pulling into my apartment complex, I am totally, utterly, and completely exhausted. How I made it the last hundred miles will forever escape me. I basically drove straight through from Charleston to Stanford, stopping only for two hour naps here and there along the way. Granted, not the safest thing to do, especially when travelling alone, but I just needed to get the hell out of there and away from Decker. The terrible thing? I already miss him like I imagine one would miss an amputated limb. Only a few days together and it felt like we were never apart.

I left Charleston Saturday morning, and here I am, early Monday afternoon. Burnt out. Worn out. Exhausted. The normally seventy-two hour trip, which includes the gas, food, and lodging stops, took about fifty-five. My dad would have been proud of my time, but pissed off at the danger I put myself in. Lord help me if my mother finds out. I’ll have to call her tomorrow to officially let her know I’m home.

I feel bad about leaving her so abruptly. She’d been very upset, but believed the same lie I’d told Decker—I had to get back for finals. The truth is, my professors gave me my leave and sent me take-home finals. I am an excellent student, and they did it without question. Now I’d be completing them from California instead of South Carolina. I’d be a fool not to take advantage of this small luxury I’d been given.

I get out of my car and grab my lone bag off the backseat. I can’t wait to take a hot shower to wash the travel off of me, and then fall face-down onto my mattress. My body is sore in places I didn’t know existed. As much as I love my roommate, Kate, I really hope she isn’t home. If she is home, she’ll want to talk about the trip and about my dad. She also knows all about Decker and can read me like a book. I’m not ready to deal with any of that.

I fumble with my purse as I try to locate the key to my apartment, slowly make my way up the outdoor stairs to the third-floor. Fortunately it’s in the mid-60s and there is a light breeze, so I’m not sweating from the overexertion. If this was Charleston, I’d be dripping. I guess the fact that I seem to be moving at a pace of five steps per hour helps with that, too.

“Where the
fuck
is it?” I complain. I just had my damn keys at the car. It’s amazing how quickly something can get lost in a purse, even a tiny one like mine. “Ah-ha, gotcha sucker,” I say, smiling in victory as I spot the pink initialed keychain and yank them from the bottom of my bag with such force that I end up tossing them a few feet in front of me.

“Son of a bitch.” My shoulders slump, and I just stand there staring at the keys on the ground. I give up. I’ve had an emotional week and a long drive and I’m so damn tired and hungry that I just want to cry. Why can’t one thing go right? Something as simple as keys? Why?

“I don’t remember you having such a foul mouth. That must be a characteristic of California Casey.”

I look up at the sound of the voice I’ve known my entire life…and promptly burst into tears. Not just a few tears streaking down my face, but a drop everything I’m holding, all out sob-fest. Decker approaches me like one would a wounded animal, his hands out in front of him in a gesture of peace. It makes me cry harder, close to the point of hyperventilation.

I want to hit him.
What the hell is he doing here?
But when he pulls me into his chest and wraps his arms around me, I melt. Damn traitorous body, mind, and soul. It knows what I need even when I refuse to acknowledge it. Decker seems to know what I need, too. After a few minutes in his arms, I calm down enough that he lets me go, holding me at arm’s length.

“You okay?” he asks, leaning down a little to look in my eyes.

Lost in his beautiful green orbs, I shrug. Am I okay? Hell if I know.

“Why are you here?” I wonder, half-concerned that I’m having a hallucination or still asleep at a rest stop somewhere.

He lets go of my arms and takes a cautious step back. “I let you get away three years ago, Casey. I’m not going to let you get away again.”

“Why?” I ask him. I’ve got no fight in me at the moment—I’m that exhausted. I know I can’t really deal with his presence right now, but he’s
Decker
.

He blows out a breath, puffing his cheeks out in the process. It’s cute. It reminds me of him as a child with his round face and chubby cheeks.

“Because you’re my best friend.” I roll my eyes, and he steps forward with his hands out in a placating gesture. “But not just that, you’re everything to me. You always have been. I did a shit job of showing you that in the past, but I’m going to prove it to you now.”

Those are words that would have made me melt three years ago. They would have made me cancel all my plans for Stanford and transfer colleges. I would have stayed home and gone to community college if he had told me that back then.

But now?

Now things have changed.

Now those words hurt.

“It’s too late for that, Decker.”

“It’s not too late, Casey. It’s never too late,” he argues.

I shake my head. I can’t go down this road with him. Not again. This is why I left. This is why I stayed away. I can’t do this with him. I’m too damn tired. I’m running on empty.

“I’m sorry, Decker. It’s the way it has to be.” I pick up my purse and backpack from where I dropped them on the floor, then step around Decker to pick up my keys.

“Casey, we can talk about this,” he says firmly.

I put on my best “I mean business” look, which only works to a certain degree when I have the remnants of an ugly cry left on my face, and turn to face him. “There’s nothing left to talk about. Go home, Decker.” There’s no emotion in my voice, my physical and mental exhaustion have seen to that.

He glares right back at me, but doesn’t back down. I finally turn from him and walk over to my apartment door, sticking the key in the lock. As I turn the knob and push open the door, he speaks.

“This isn’t over. I’m not going anywhere, Casey.”

I close my eyes and sigh as I lean my forehead against the apartment door. I know he’s not going give up. Decker Abrams never gives up.

***

It’s been six hours since I left Decker standing outside the apartment. After practically slamming the door in his face, I did what I had planned to do. I took a long, hot shower, snacked on some cold veggies and dip Kate had in the fridge, and face-planted onto my bed. I slept for a solid five hours, waking up only when I heard the front door shut.

“Case?” Kate’s sweet voice calls out. I hear her footsteps on the hardwood floor as she approaches my bedroom.

Kate is great. We were paired with each other in the dorms freshman year and have been inseparable ever since. She’s my best friend in California, my only friend really. We each have acquaintances, most of them mutual, but we’re both pretty much homebodies and dedicated to our studies, so we don’t go out much. She’s sort of estranged from her family—her parents are rich snobs, always jet setting somewhere—so she doesn’t go home for breaks either. Coincidentally, she’s also from South Carolina—Columbia—so we’ve got that in common. It’s like we were meant to find each other here. Two Carolina Girls in the Golden State.

My bedroom door pops open and Kate pokes her head in, her dirty blonde hair in ringlets all around her face.

“You cut your hair?” is the first thing that comes out of my mouth. Before I left, her hair was as long as mine—mid-back. I was only gone for a little more than a week, though realistically I know it takes less than an hour to get a haircut.

“Yeah,” she says, stepping into my room. “You like?” she raises her hand to her hair in a self-conscious gesture.

I sit up and cock my head to the side, fully taking in the new style. “I love it. It really suits you,” I tell her and mean it. She looks really good. The cut really emphasizes her natural curls and the way it frames her face enhances her high cheekbones.

She smiles, “Thanks.” She drops her hand and sits at the end of my bed. “So what are you doing home? Your last text said you were going to stay in South Carolina for a while.”

I flop back down on my back, close my eyes, and groan in frustration.

“That good, huh?” she giggles. Kate is a quiet person, very shy. She doesn’t laugh out loud, only giggles these sweet little giggles that sound like bells.

I say one word: “Decker.” Kate knows all about my history with Decker. She held my hand as I cried one particularly emotional day freshman year, and the whole story came out. That was a day I’d like to forget, and unfortunately one that I’ll most likely remember forever.

“Which reminds me,” she starts. “Are you responsible for that hunk of man candy snoozing outside the apartment door? Or do I need to call security?”

My eyes open wide and I sit straight up. I’m not sure if I’m more surprised that Decker is sleeping in the breezeway, or that Kate just called him “man candy.” So out of character. Kate never refers to men that way. She never refers to men period. In the beginning I wondered if it was because she was interested in women, but that turned out to be false, and a completely embarrassing conversation for both of us.

Focus Casey! Decker is outside the apartment!

I jump out of bed and run to the front door, Kate right on my heels. I swing open the front door and look down. Sure enough, there he is, sleeping like a baby, using his duffel bag as a pillow.

“Decker!” I whisper-shout, nudging him with my foot. “Get up!”

I catch Kate’s wide-eyed look out of the corner of my eye as Decker rouses from his slumber. He looks completely disoriented, like he has no idea where he is, and keeps using his fists to rub his eyes. He finally spots me and his face breaks out in his beautiful, heart-stopping smile.

“Hey, Case. What time is it?” His voice is thick with sleep and sexy as hell. I hate him.