Page 38 of Casper
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
LUNA
My body still buzzed with adrenaline when we got into the Uber to go home. Rebel and Storm had grabbed a car back to their place. The rest of us were going to the house Casper shared with Codie and Stray. My fingers shook as I buckled my seatbelt in place. That was a hell of an experience.
I knew that getting involved with Casper meant being exposed to his lifestyle. I’d heard more than enough from Storm and Codie to know that even though the guys worked hard to keep their business separate from their personal lives, anything could happen.
I’d told myself I was fine with that. After watching him kill someone on Halloween, I thought I could handle anything. Having those men surround us, grabbing Storm, Codie, and me, it left me pretty shaken up.
By the time we reached the house, I started to calm down. My breaths slower and more even. My racing heart back to a normal pace. Thankfully, we were all safe. Nobody had been injured aside from a scrape on my hand when I hit the ground. The guys had bloody knuckles but were otherwise high on the rush. Feeling no pain.
We entered the house, stepping into the living room. The room had a comfortable vibe. A beige couch that appeared well-loved sat in front of a coffee table across from a television mounted on the wall. A few house plants occupied a shelf near the window that looked out onto the street. Codie dropped her purse on a small table near the door before kicking off her shoes.
“I could use a drink. Anyone else?” She motioned for me to join her, leading the way through the living room into the kitchen beyond.
“A drink might help take the edge off,” I agreed. “The night definitely took an unexpected turn.”
Codie flicked on the kitchen light, rounding the island to the pantry. She grabbed a bottle of vodka from the top shelf before taking two glasses out of a cupboard. “Most people don’t fuck with the guys. They know better.”
I slid onto a stool at the kitchen island, anxiously tapping my fingernails on the counter while she poured us a drink. Vodka with a generous splash of cranberry juice from the fridge.
“If those fucknuts know what’s good for them, they’ll get out of town,” Stray said as he and Casper entered the kitchen. “Next time I see them, I’m not holding back.”
My gaze went to Casper’s knuckles. They looked a lot worse in the bright kitchen light. Cut open and bloody. I caught his hand in one of mine, frowning at his wounds. “This doesn’t look good. We should clean you up. Do you have any ice?”
“In the freezer. Clean cloths are under the sink.” Codie glanced at Stray’s hands, finding them similarly damaged. “Jesus, that looks rough. Does it hurt?”
He gave the wounds a passing glance and shrugged. “Not really. It’s fine. It’s nothing.”
Despite his remark, he still allowed her to gently clean the cuts with a warm cloth before wrapping a towel filled with icearound his hand. Stray’s expression shifted from one of apathy to absolute wonder as he watched her.
As I carefully wiped the blood from Casper’s knuckles, I glanced up to find him wearing a similar expression. Something passed between us. Something that didn’t need words or signs. He wanted so badly to keep me safe, and he’d done what he had to do to make that happen. Maybe I couldn’t protect Casper the same way, but I found myself wanting to take care of him. To bring him comfort.
A small smile lit up his face. He placed a hand over mine, giving it a gentle squeeze.
Stray interrupted the moment by flicking Casper in the arm. “Where’s the weed, dude? I know you’ve got to have a fat joint on you. Light that shit up.”
With a roll of his eyes, Casper reached into a pocket, producing a perfectly rolled thick joint. Instead of handing it off to Stray, he offered it to me first. I accepted it with a nod of thanks. I could use all the chill I could get right now.
The four of us sat around the island drinking and smoking, trying to unwind from the unexpected events earlier. I was content to sit there while Stray and Casper dominated the conversation with ridiculous insults back and forth. Teasing one another the way only best friends do. It brought a sense of normalcy and calm. I liked watching Casper interact with his friends. The people who knew him best. He didn’t hold back, quick to punch Stray in the shoulder and flip him off when he said something snarky or took a joke too far.
It was pushing three in the morning when Stray snatched Codie up off her stool, flinging her over his shoulder. “Well, it’s been real guys, but I’m taking my strawberry to bed now. We’ll try not to make too much noise, but you might want to turn on the TV or something. Who am I kidding? We are going to makea lot of noise.” With a devious chuckle, he carried her from the room.
Casper quickly cleaned up the counter, sticking the dirty dishes into the dishwasher. Turning back to me, he signed, “Do you want to stay over? Or would you like to go home?”
I was proud of myself for understanding. I’d been cramming sign language lessons into every spare moment, and they were paying off.
“I’d love to stay if that’s okay with you. Please don’t carry me out of the room like a caveman.” I squealed when Casper pretended to do just that. He carried me as far as the doorway before setting me back onto my feet.
Taking my hand, he led me through the living room to the basement stairs. We descended into a finished basement that immediately smelled like cologne and male musk. We entered into a small sitting room with a couch, TV, and a workout area in the corner. He pulled me along down the hallway, passed a closed door and a bathroom, into a bedroom at the end of the hall.
“Is that Dominik’s room?” I nodded to the closed door.
“Yeah. I don’t think he’s home right now. We should have the floor to ourselves.” Casper’s hands flew quickly at first. When my brows knit together as I struggled to keep up, he repeated everything with slow motions.
Casper’s room smelled just like him. A spicy, sweet cinnamon vanilla scent. A double bed took up the center of the room, the headboard against the far wall. Across from the bed, a dresser held a small television. His desk in the corner was littered with various items. Empty glasses, a laptop, miscellaneous pieces of clothing.
“Sorry,” he signed. “I wasn’t expecting you. I should’ve cleaned up.”
