Give Me Grace(41)

“No sex on the couch!” he repeated and picked up the phone to ring whoever the hell it was he rang when this shit happened. “Thanks, Casey!” he called out as I returned to my desk.

“Don’t thank me yet,” I replied dryly, picking up my own phone to make a call. “You’re gonna be the one to tell Coby.”

After several rings, the call went to voicemail. “Hi, this is Dean. Leave a message.”

After the beep, I replied, “Dean, this is Casey. We need to talk.” After hanging up, I read the new message from Grace that was waiting on my phone.

You should stop messaging me.

You’re right, I tapped out. I should ring you instead.





It was late Wednesday night when Casey rang. Two long days of band rehearsals had wiped me out. After going to bed early, I was twisted in a pile of blankets and sleeping like the dead when Lily Allen’s “Fuck You” screeched loudly through the quiet duplex. Dragged reluctantly into consciousness, I scrambled for the phone off the bedside table and answered with a bleary, “’Lo?”

“Slim,” came Casey’s own sleep-rough voice. “Did I wake you?”

Brushing a tangled lock of hair from my face, I took the phone away from my ear to inspect the time. “Casey?” My own voice sounded just as rough when I spoke his name. “It’s midnight so yeah, you woke me. Is something wrong?”

“No, but I spoke to Helen over at the airport today. I wanted to tell you.” I heard the sound of rustling sheets as I struggled to wake up and failed. Closing my eyes, I started drifting off while I waited. “You there?”

“Mmm hmm,” I mumbled, the phone starting to slide from my ear.

“Jesus.”

“What?” I breathed. Rolling to my side, I put my phone on the bed so I could lie on it and keep both hands free. Then I grabbed a pillow and closed my eyes again, hugging it close.

“You’re sexy when you’re half asleep, Slim.”

“I’m not,” I mumbled, barely even able to process what he was saying.

“Can’t take a compliment?”

Even though he couldn’t see me, I rolled my eyes. I’d never tried that manoeuvre with my eyes closed before. It actually made my eyeballs ache a little bit. Letting go of my pillow, I picked up my phone, snapped a quick photo and sent it to him. “There. Submitting exhibit A into evidence.”

There was a pause before I heard his soft chuckle.

“It’s supposed to show you how unsexy I am when I’m half asleep, Casey. It’s not supposed to be funny,” I mumbled.

There was brief pause before my phone beeped an incoming message. Looking at the bright light of my screen made my eyes ache all over again. I opened the message to a photo of Casey that made my heart thump. Despite the cracked screen, I could still see his face. He was lying on a pillow so he must have been in bed too. He looked tired. His hair was mussed, eyes red, and his jaw covered in scruff. I wanted to bury my face in the spot where his neck met his bare shoulder and just breathe him in.

I put the phone back to my ear and whispered softly, “Casey.”

“Grace,” he whispered back.

I performed the ‘lying on my phone and hugging my pillow’ manoeuvre again and closed my eyes. Only now all I could see was Casey’s face and how worn-out he looked, and for some reason that made me want to hug him instead of being pissed off at him like I should. “So what did Helen say?”

“She said the old lady sitting beside you on the flight gave them the information. Apparently she flies to Sydney regularly to visit her daughter and every other month she makes a delusional complaint. They tend not to take her too seriously.”

“Oh.”

“Oh?”

“All that drama over nothing.” Though I knew why she might think me suspicious when I remembered the vitamins in my handbag. I’d accidently smashed the bottle and put the pills in a plastic packet. She must have seen them when my handbag was knocked on the floor and everything fell out. Still, making the leap to drug carrier was a stretch. “That little old lady has a lot to answer for,” I told Casey.

“Agreed. I think she’s probably watched Miami Vice one too many times,” Casey replied. His voice was still low and gruff. I started drifting off at the hypnotic sound. “You there?”

“Mmm,” I mumbled.

“I was thinking … Maybe we should start again.”

“Again?”

“Yeah, again.”

How many do-overs could you have before it got ridiculous? It was already feeling ridiculous, and maybe a tiny bit adorable. Perhaps Casey was right though. Starting again was probably a good idea. I could hold that to him when he eventually saw his shredded backseat. I could claim we’d started over therefore everything that happened before that point in time didn’t exist. “’Kay,” I agreed, impressed by such logical thinking on my part while still half asleep.