I laughed and hit the buzzer to let them up. Scratching idly at the stubble on my jaw, I thought about having a shower and a shave as I flicked open the locks and walked into the kitchen.
I was in the kitchen getting drinks by the time they came through the front door. Pale hair pinned up, Quinn was wearing some kind of navy thing that sparkled. She smiled.
“Casey!”
“Damn, I missed you,” I told her, kissing her on the cheek as Travis followed her into the kitchen, “but you didn’t have to dress up for me. I like you in anything, or nothing at all if you prefer.”
Travis grabbed the glass of wine I’d just poured, slapped me up the back of the head, and handed the drink to his wife, who was busy laughing at my exaggerated wink.
If I wasn’t so damn tired, I’d put him in a headlock and get his dressy clothes all dirty. I gave Quinn my best puppy dog eyes instead. “You’re not going to let him beat me up, are you?”
“Of course she will,” Travis interjected. “In the order of men in her life, I outrank you by a mile.”
“Oh yeah?” My eyebrows went up as I looked from Travis to Quinn. “Where am I on this list?”
“Dude. You’re so low on the list, you’re not even on the list.” He took the two beers I’d uncapped with him into the living room and handed one to Coby. “And really … butt plugs?” He sank into the perfectly worn groove of my recliner and smirked.
Ignoring him, I put the wine bottle back in the fridge and said to Quinn, “If you ever get tired of Mr Vanilla, you know where to— Oh hey!” My eyes caught the little cherub peeking out from behind Quinn. Mussed blond curls and brown eyes so wide it made you hurt just to look at him. Sam, the three year old foster kid I rescued almost two weeks ago, watched his mother overdose and die, and now he couldn’t speak from the resulting trauma. What made the entire situation so fucked-up was that people like Travis and Quinn couldn’t have kids. She was so badly beaten as a pregnant teen, she’d not only lost her baby, she’d lost the ability to have more. The bright side was that they were given the opportunity to be foster parents. To me, that alone made the world a better place. If they managed to adopt him, Sam would grow up with a future.
Crouching down to eye level, I gave him my best grin. “You came all the way over here just to see me, bud?” My eyes shifted to the big piece of paper clutched so tightly in his hands it was a wrinkled mess. “And what’s this?”
“Well, that’s the thing,” Quinn began. I glanced up at her nervous tone. “We have dinner reservations at Mr Chow’s, and really, we’d forgotten about them with … everything going on.” She eyed Sam pointedly. “And obviously we weren’t going to go because we don’t want to leave Sam with just anyone, or leave him at all really, but then …” Quinn took hold of Sam’s hand and gave it a squeeze. “Show him your drawing, Sam.”
My heart swelled a little at the tentative trust in Sam’s eyes when he looked at me. He offered up the crumpled bit of paper.
Taking it from him with care, I smoothed the edges out and held it up. My name was etched all over it in a chaotic scramble of colours. Nothing else. Just … Casey. My eyes burned and I swallowed the sudden lump in my throat. “Dude,” I said affectionately. “You did this for me?”
Sam nodded wordlessly.
“There’s more of those at home,” Quinn whispered.
I met Quinn’s eyes briefly and saw the sheen of tears. Clearing my throat, I said to Sam, “Well this is going on my fridge. Front and centre. You know why?”
He shook his head.
“Because when everyone sees my name all over the fridge, they’ll know all the food in there belongs to me. That means no one else can eat it.” Sam’s eyes were solemn, as though what I’d told him was the most important thing in the world. “But,” I added, “I’m pretty sure I saw some ice cream in there that had your name on it. Want some?”
Sam nodded again, and this time I was rewarded with the corners of his lips turning up slightly. Just that slightest reaction made me want to fist pump the air.
“But you have to do something for me first, bud, okay?” A frown started to overtake his face. “Give me a hug? I need one of those because it’s been a long, tiring day,” I told him with a meaningful glance at Travis. It was a wasted effort because football just came on the television. Kicked back in my recliner with a beer, Travis looked in no apparent rush to be going anywhere.
Sam walked straight into my open arms. I stood up, bringing him with me, and he burrowed into my chest. After helping put the picture on the fridge, we got the ice cream. Holding onto him with one arm, I used the other to get a spoon from the drawer.