Tash laughed again. “Good point.”
“He’s got the entire team with him,” he said.
“Not the entire team,” she pointed out. “This is the first time you haven’t been there, too. It’s freaking me out a little.”
“At last you acknowledge my true superhero status,” he said, hoping to lighten things a little.
But she didn’t roll her eyes and scoff as he’d expected. “You love him almost as much as I do. I feel so much better when you’re with him,” she whispered.
Rio pulled her in for a hug, marveling at how far they’d come from the days, not that long ago, when all they’d seemed to do was clash.
“I’m not the only one who loves him,” Rio reminded her as he gently released her. “He’ll be home soon.”
Tasha nodded. “Let me know how it goes with Casey. And thanks for not knocking on the door.”
Chapter Seventeen
Late Friday Evening
Jon still hadn’t called or texted.
Casey paced from the living room to the kitchen in her bungalow, looking for... something and not finding it anywhere. Whatever she was looking for wasn’t on her phone, either, even though she briefly opened her social media accounts. Nope. That for sure wasn’t going to help at all.
She closed all of her apps and settled on a glass of wine, knowing that it, too, fell into the not-gonna-help-and-will-probably-make-things-worse category of coping mechanisms. But choosing the bottle of Pinot Gris from her fridge—and selecting a glass—it was a no-stem day for sure—gave her something to do with her hands if not her overactive brain.
Dave hadn’t answered his phone either when she’d called him—apparently he really was out of the country. How stupidly bullshit was it, that she’d actually wondered if she’d been lied to about that, too?
She’d also left a message with Ella, who was still up in Seattle with her dad—who was doing well and getting stronger every day, thank goodness for some good news. She’d wanted to tell her longtime security person about the weirdness of the car that had nearly hit her, see what Ella thought Casey should do. It still seemed absurd that that had been anything other than an alcohol-induced, asshole-inspired accident, but just because Casey was furious with Luc didn’t mean she was stupid.
Rio. Fuck. His name was Rio.
She was never going to get used to thinking of him as anything but Luc. And really what she had to do was just stop thinking of him. Hard-core, full-on, cold-turkey—just shut that shit off.
Luc wasn’t real, but Rio wasn’t gay...
Yeah, thanks brain for delivering that useless nugget of info—along with a very clear memory of this man she’d thought was her friend wearing only his boxers in her hotel room.
In the past when she’d added people to her pathetically long Welp, that catastrophe happened but at least it ended quickly, thank heavens list, she’d at least managed to have sex a few times before the tragic truth reared its ugly head. This time, she’d only had a PG-rated sleepover. With the best-looking man she’d ever known—and as a working actor in Hollywood, she’d met a lot of extremely good-looking men.
Maybe if she’d slept with him, her heart wouldn’t feel so battered and torn.
Yeah right.
At least she’d be significantly less frustrated.
Her phone rang as she was pouring herself another glass, and she jumped to grab it, but it was a number she didn’t recognize. She answered anyway, thinking it might’ve been Ella calling from the hospital, or maybe Jon calling from whatever level of hell he was currently inhabiting. “Hello?”
“Hi, Casey?” It was a woman’s voice, but it wasn’t Ella.
“Yes?”
“Sorry to be calling so late, but, um, my name’s Tasha and I’m a friend of, uh, Dave Patterson’s...?”
“Is he all right?” Casey asked. Her concern was kneejerk and even as the words came out of her mouth, she knew this was probably less about Dave and more about Luc. Rio. Damn it.
Still, when Tasha said, “Yeah, he’s fine. I mean, they’re still not back, but I’m sure he’s fine. My husband, Thomas... He’s an officer with the team—a hospital corpsman. He’s out there, too, so...”
“I’m sorry,” Casey said. “That must be hard.”
