One Lucky Hero (18 page)

Writing it off as just her emotions getting away from her, she concentrated on getting dressed. She settled on a simple sleeveless shirt and jean shorts, since her phone said it was going to be close to a hundred and five degrees. She hadn't bothered with anything but her moisturizing face lotion and a little mascara; she'd just sweat it off anyway. Besides, it wasn't as if Dean hadn't seen her without makeup.

She walked out of her bedroom just as Daisy was heading to the front door in her Safeway uniform.

“Whoa, where you off to?”

“Got called into work, and since my last day isn't technically until Wednesday, I figured I'd go in. It's just six hours, so I'll be home around five.”

“Okay. I'll probably make something easy for dinner,” Violet said.

“Good with me.” Violet followed her out the back door, since Dean was on the front porch painting. “Have you talked to Quinton yet?”

“Not yet. With packing and working and him doing . . . whatever he does, we haven't had a chance to meet up.”

“Well, really, when you tell him—”

“Make sure there are witnesses with camera phones.” Daisy waved at her as she jogged toward her car. “I got it. Don't worry.”

Violet couldn't help it. With Casey at Alpha Dog and CPS watching her, all she did was worry.

“You clean up good,” Dean teased as she came around the side of the house.

Violet laughed as she climbed up the unpainted porch steps. “Thanks. Can I help?”

“Sure, grab a brush. I was just trying to find a station on Pandora.”

Violet picked up a paintbrush as the cords of “Jeremy” by Pearl Jam blared from his phone speaker. The song content pinched at her heart, considering Jeremy stood up in class and killed himself.

Was it ironic or just sad that it had been one of her mom's favorites?

“You like nineties rock?” she asked.

“Yeah, you?” he asked.

“My mom did. You know that song ‘I'm Gonna Be (Five Hundred Miles)' by The Proclaimers? She used to march me around the house to that until I almost peed my pants laughing.”

“She sounds like she was a great mom,” he said.

“She was.”

“You will be, too.”

Violet froze midstroke. “I will be what?”

“A good mom. I mean, the way you are with your brother and sister, whatever hiccups they might have had, they are good kids. And they obviously adore you. I just mean that based on what I've seen, I think you're an amazing woman.”

Her chest constricted, the sheer thought of kids of her own bringing on a nearly catatonic panic. For several moments, she couldn't speak, and then finally she blurted out, “I don't know about that.”

She saw Dean swing her way out of the corner of her eye. “You don't?”

“Have you met my brother and sister?”

“But they're still good kids. Your sister got a scholarship. That's at least partly because of you.”

“Still, I don't think it's in the cards for me. Not when there's a chance . . . ” Her voice trailed off; she was unwilling to admit her fears aloud.

“A chance of what?” he asked.

A chance that someday I might just check out on the people who love me. Like she did.

“Nothing, it's just more family drama you don't need to know about.” She dragged the brush across the railing roughly with her back to him, until he bumped her shoulder with his.

“I understand having fears and things you don't want other people to know about. I've been told that it's unhealthy, but honestly, I look at it as self-preservation.”

Violet glanced his way in surprise. “Me, too. Probably why I've never had anyone in my life who lasted more than a few months.” Why was she telling him this? “It's hard to get close to people when you can't let them see your darkest nooks and crannies.”

“Considering what you've gone through, it's not surprising that it's hard to trust.”

Violet wasn't sure how much he knew from her file, but even with the most basic information, how could he ever think she'd be a good mother, considering the examples she had?

People who have bad childhoods can overcome it and raise great kids.

“But if you ever do need anyone to talk to, I'm here.”

“For now.” She didn't mean to sound so bitter, but this whole situation was stupid, and she was just asking for heartbreak if she let it continue.

“Honestly, I have no idea if they'll ever let me go back, but I'm getting a little tired of avoiding you and pretending that I don't want to get to know you. So, I figured why bother fighting it? Let's be friends.”

Friends, ha.

It was so laughable that she'd ever be able to be friends with him, not with the way he made her feel. Not with the way she wanted him. But she couldn't let herself get attached. If she grew to need him, it was going to be impossible to let him go.

“Sure, we can be friends for now.”
Until you say good-bye.

“E
XCELLENT
, C
ASEY
!”

Dean cheered on Monday morning as Casey and Apollo completed a thirty-second down-stay. Casey was grinning ear to ear as several of the guys congratulated him, but when Dean approached him, the kid's smile slipped. Although Casey had definitely eased in with the other kids, he was still leery of the trainers. Dean had made space in Casey's schedule for time with Dr. Linda Stabler every day until his release, much to Casey's irritation, but if she could get through to him and get him to talk, Dean would let her have him all day long.

“You have done some awesome work. I'm proud of you.”

“Gee, just what I've always dreamed of.” Casey snickered, but none of the other boys joined in. In fact, they seemed to take a sudden interest in the grass, the sky, basically anywhere else but the two of them.

“All right, you're all dismissed. Good work today.” As the guys took off, Dean said loudly, “Casey, you stay. Liam, can you take Apollo and Dilbert in while I talk to Casey?”

Liam grabbed Apollo's leash and took off as fast as his long legs would carry him. The puppy kept trying to look over his shoulder at his young master while Dilbert lumbered behind.

When Dean took a few steps toward Casey, he saw the flash of fear cross Casey's face, but before he could tell the kid he just wanted to talk, that mulish expression was back in place.

With a frustrated sigh, Dean just dove in. “Look, you want to be pissed off at the world, that's on you, but I don't want to hear you ever disrespect any of the instructors here, including me. Most of the kids who come through are grateful to be here instead of juvie, but if you aren't enjoying your stay, you've got one week left that you can finish there.”

Casey's face started to tremble, and Dean noticed a definite sheen in his eyes, but the kid didn't back down. “I'll pack my stuff then.”

Casey tried to escape, but Dean was done messing around. Grabbing Casey by the shoulders gently but firmly, he held the struggling kid in place while he bent his knees until he was eye level with Casey.

“Enough. I was just bluffing, damn it. You're not packing anything, but you
are
going to stop fighting me and realize that treating everyone who cares about you like the enemy isn't helping. Don't you think I've noticed that you haven't seen your sisters? They keep showing up here to visit you, and you don't even bother to come out.”

“It's none of your fucking business!” Casey cried.

“You're my business whether you like it or not, and I want to make sure that you don't push away the only family you have—”

“I don't care! If she hadn't signed me up for fucking art classes, I'd have been fine! It's her fault!
Her fault
!”

Dean reeled back, surprised by the pure rage in Casey's molten red face and high-pitched scream. Dean wasn't even sure he knew what he was saying, but when one of Casey's fists swung out and caught Dean in the stomach, the air whooshed out.

And then it was as if Casey had eight arms swinging all at the same time.

Dean heard a shout but ignored it, wrapping his arms around Casey's thin body and pinning his arms to his side. Casey started to use his feet, but Dean dropped to the ground speaking in low, calm tones. Nonsense, really, but he'd seen Kline do it with one of the boys who had autism. The tight embrace had eventually calmed him, and Dean just hoped it would do the same thing for Casey.

Best was suddenly standing over them, bending down to intervene, and Dean shouted to be heard over Casey's yelling. “No, I've got him.”

Best backed off as Casey's voice grew softer and hoarser. “Let me go. I hate you. I hate yo-ou.” He choked on the last word, his body shaking as he began to cry, and Dean noticed that a crowd of kids had gathered at the edge of the field.

“Get them back inside,” Dean said loudly to Best.

Best took off, and Dean realized he was burning up, slick with sweat from the heat and fight, but he held on as Casey started to relax, sucking in breath after breath between sobs.

“You're okay. No one is going to hurt you. You're okay.”

Dean didn't release him for the longest time, wanting to make sure that the storm had passed. “If I let you go, are you going to turn into Rocky Balboa again?”

“No.” The word was quiet and weak, but Dean took him at it as he released him. Sitting up, he waited until Casey joined him before he started talking.

“It is not my job to tell you how you should feel. I've never been where you are, and every time I try to think about it, it honestly makes me want to find whoever hurt you and pummel him to death.”

“Because you like my sister?” The question had a bitter edge, and Dean shook his head.

“Because you are one of my men, a part of my squad. We're brothers, and nobody fucks with my brothers. I would want to kill the son of a bitch with my bare hands just on principle. I don't know what happened, and I would never press you on it, but what he did was wrong. It had nothing to do with you or your sister. The only one who deserves any of the blame is the person who you wanted to hurt today.”

Casey didn't respond, so Dean kept talking.

“Look, I'm not going to lie, I may like your sister, but she's got nothing to do with you and me. I've got your back long after you leave Alpha Dog, because that is what we do here. We are there for each other and want to make sure that when you leave here, you have all the skills you need to make better choices. Do you get that?”

“People always want something,” Casey said.

Dean wished that Casey and his sisters hadn't learned such a lesson, but the only thing he could do was try to prove them wrong. “My only angle is to make sure you get what you need so that you succeed once you're back out there. I don't want you to end up back in here or worse, but I can't tell you what is going to make things better. You have to decide what you can live with and what is going to help you heal.”

“Thanks, Dr. Phil.”

Dean grinned, glad he hadn't broken his spirits. “Hey, I am your elder by a few years. I know stuff.”

“Can you teach me how to fight?”

Dean made a mental note to talk to Violet about it, but at this point, Casey was his primary concern. “I can teach you how to defend yourself.”

“What, like self-defense? Isn't that for girls?”

“No, everyone should know self-defense. It gives you the maximum amount of power with the least amount of force. It would actually be good for all of you to learn, but for now, I'll start with you.”

“Thanks,” Casey said.

“I do have a question, though.” Casey stiffened next to him, but Dean pressed on. “Do you really blame your sister?”

After a moment's hesitation, Casey said, “Kind of.”

“Because she forced you to take art classes?”

Casey went on the defensive. “She didn't force me to do anything.”

“But she told you that you had to go?”

“No, I wanted to take art classes, but we couldn't afford private lessons, so she found some cheap classes at the youth center.”

Dean let him mull over that for a bit. “You can put the blame wherever you want, but if you ever want to find peace, then you need to face what happened head-on.”

“I'm not ready to talk about it. I don't want to go to the cops or tell that shrink about it.”

Dean laid his hand on Casey's shoulder and gave it a gentle pat. “You don't have to talk to Mrs. Stabler if you don't want to, but I'm sure your sister would listen. When you are ready.”

Climbing to his feet, Dean held out his hand for Casey. “And if you think that you're getting away with smarting off, you're dreaming.”

“Yes, sir.”

“You're in charge of cleaning the bathroom for your unit until you're discharged next week.” Casey opened his mouth, and Dean raised an eyebrow. “You want to object?”

For whatever reason, Casey snapped his mouth closed and shook his head. “No, sir.”

“All right then, go on inside.” Casey hesitated, and Dean waited for him to speak. “Something else?”

“Yeah, um . . . A couple of the guys said they went to my house this weekend to clean up the yard and paint. Is that true?”

Dean had expected Casey to be pissed about not being able to go, but he seemed more curious.

“Yeah, I noticed that it needed some work when I was over there talking to your sister about you, so I figured we'd count it toward some of the guy's community service.”

“Thanks,” Casey said.

“Don't mention it.”

Casey hopped from one foot to the next. “And, just so you know, if my sister wants to date you, then it's okay with me.”

“I appreciate your blessing,” Dean said.

“Won't mean much if you don't do it right.”

“Do what?”

“Violet doesn't get involved with guys. And the few I've found out about didn't last very long.”

Dean folded his arms over his chest, amused. “Are you giving me dating advice?”

“I'm telling you how to not fuck up with my sister. I want her to be happy, and she seems to like you.” Casey's pale face darkened in warning. “But if you hurt her, I'll destroy you.”

If there's one thing to be said about Violet, she definitely brings out the protective instinct in people.

“Understood. What do you suggest first? Out of curiosity, of course.”

Casey looked up thoughtfully, obviously taking his role as love guru seriously. “My sister hates horror movies, so don't take her to one at a theater. You're pretty safe with a chick flick or anything with Channing Tatum.”

Strike the movies.

“Got it. She already mentioned her aversion to zombies.”

“Oh, and she hates sushi and seafood.”

“I'm not a fan of it either, so that works out well.”

“You might want to grab a paper and pen and take notes,” Casey said solemnly. “My sister is pretty particular.”

“I tell you what. Does she like pizza?” Dean asked.

“Who doesn't?”

“Well, I'll start out by bringing her a pizza, and you make a list for me. Can't screw up too bad with pepperoni and cheese deep-dish, right?”

“Violet likes pineapple and Canadian bacon on thin crust.”

“Check. And thanks for the tip.”

“Sure thing,” Casey said.

As Casey took off jogging across the lawn, Dean realized that he'd given Casey the same advice Martinez had given him. That he needed to deal with his issues and ask for help. How could he, a grown-ass man, ask a young kid to do what he couldn't?

There was a reason for that, it seemed. He was a damn hypocrite.

V
IOLET LEFT
A
LPHA
Dog, gripping the steering wheel as if she wanted to tear it apart. Today she'd been determined to get in and force Casey to talk to her, but Sergeant Kline had stopped her in the lobby and told her Casey was having a bad day. That it would probably be a good idea to let him be for a day or so.

Of course she'd had questions, but when she'd asked to talk to Dean, he'd been out of the office, and Kline hadn't offered any other explanation. Combine that with the flat tire she'd gotten on the way home, and she was in a piss-poor mood.

Violet turned down her street and pulled into the driveway. The only thing that was going to make her feel better was a hot shower and warm chocolate chip cookies.

She was trying to remember if she still had baking soda when she noticed a man in a charcoal gray suit sitting on the steps of the porch.

Who wears a heavy suit jacket in ninety-degree weather?

As he stood up, though, his frame stirred a familiarity in Violet that made her palms sweat buckets.

“Oh, God.”

It was her dad. He was back, standing in their front yard after three years without a word.

Climbing out of her car, she tried to keep calm, studying the changes in him. He had cut his hair short and put on weight. He looked healthy and clean-cut, like a guy with an office job who drove back and forth to work in rush-hour traffic.

And so different from the man he'd been for them.

Blinding rage and the sting of betrayal boiled to the surface, making her question harsher than she intended. “What are you doing here?”

If he was surprised by her anger, he didn't show it. “Hello, Violet. It's good to see you,” he said, ignoring her question.

“What are you doing here?”

He hesitated and seemed to be struggling to find the words. Her pulse hammered, and her blood pounded in her ears, drowning out all other sound. How the heck had he come to be here? How did he have the balls to just drop by?

Finally, he found his voice. “Well, I was actually hoping we could talk.”

“About what?”

“Well, for starters, how have you been?”

Hysterical laughter bubbled up Violet's throat, nearly choking her. “Really? That's why you're here? To play some kind of catch-up game with me?”

“It's not a game, Violet—”

“No, it's not. You want to know how I am? I'm fine. I'm puzzled as to what in the holy hell you're doing, but I am great.”

“Speaking of great, the house looks wonderful. You've really done a great job improving the place.”

“A friend of mine did it. Not me. I wasn't going to put all of my hard-earned money into it just so you could show up and sell it out from under us.”

“This isn't going the way I thought. Could we maybe just take a seat and talk? I won't ask to come in, but we could sit on the porch steps.”

Violet didn't want to talk or sit or shoot the shit. In fact, if she stood out here much longer with him, staring into his clean-shaven face and clear dark eyes, she might just take a swing at him. How dare he show up here stone-cold sober. Was he actually here trying to prove something?