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permanentlyexhaustedpigeon88 · 6 months ago

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Freefall * Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw/OC (part 3)

Summary: Casey had always been a free spirit, living in the moment, never staying still for long. More than once, her loved ones told her she could stand to think more with her head, and less with her heart. But old habits die hard, and the choices Casey makes in the heat of the moment are about to change her life forever, whether she's ready for it or not.

Warnings: unplanned pregnancy, allusion to smut, original character, angst, sex outside of wedlock, friends to lovers, did I mention angst?

Taglist: @kmc1989, @phoward89, @bellaireland1981

Part One Part Two

"Saw you catching up with Rooster, earlier," Penny begins, aware of how her daughter's expression seems to falter for a moment, before she settles upon offering a slightly raised brow, "Everything okay?"

"Why wouldn't it be?"

"Maybe because Hangman was a big part of it for a while?"

"You know him?" Casey questions, taking note of her mother's answering nod, and frowning almost immediately after, "Is he always—"

"Like that? I'd say that's a pretty safe bet."

"And yet it almost sounds like you like him."

"Maybe he reminds me of somebody else I know," Penny shrugs, moving to sit on the opposite end of the sofa, a steaming mug of tea held between both hands. Her gaze remains fixed upon her daughter as Casey manages a sip of her own beverage, and sinks further into the sofa cushions as though seeking refuge.

She'd been unusually quiet ever since their return home after closing up the bar, only answering cursory questions with a few words apiece. And inasmuch as Penny had wanted to press her for details on what, exactly, had caused such an uncharacteristic reticence, she resisted, knowing full well that pressing for answers now will likely only serve to push Casey away.

"I really hope you aren't talking about me—"

"What if I am?"

"I may have to call you out for exaggerating."

"Is it exaggerating if it's true?"

"I really don't see how it can be true," Casey counters, amusement resting behind the words even in spite of the small twist of apprehension that seizes her in response to her mother's claim, "I'm nowhere near as cocky, for one—"

"Maybe I'm not talking exclusively about cockiness."

"Okay—what are you talking about, then?"

"I think I'm talking about what that cockiness might be attempting to cover up."

Unable to entirely mask the flinch that comes in response to her mother's words, Casey tries to ignore the implications. She tries to pretend she is unaware of Penny's intent gaze, practically drilling holes into her skull. In truth, this is exactly the sort of thing she had wished to avoid, especially so soon after she returned home, but then given her mother's uncanny ability to read her moods, she is probably a fool to have expected anything less.

The sensation of her mother's hand moving to rest atop her own very nearly causes her to jump, but somehow, Casey manages to resist. And when she finally persuades herself to meet her mother's gaze head-on, she faces nothing but genuine concern.

The precise opposite of what she had hoped to find.

"Did something happen between you two?" Penny asks, searching Casey's features for any indication of an answer that she clearly is not entirely willing to give. Although busy behind the bar for most of the evening, she hadn't missed the slight hint of awkward tension between her daughter and the man who had always been something more than just a best friend to her since she was born. She had seen how Casey's smile had never quite seemed to reach her eyes.

It was unusual behavior, to say the least, compared to the countless other times she's observed the two of them together. But if Penny knows anything about her daughter, it is that she will not be likely to come clean about anything troubling her until she has absolutely no other choice.

Something that only becomes all too apparent in her ensuing reply.

"No. No, it—we're fine."

"Uh-huh."

"Really, Mom. We're—we're good," Casey insists, removing her hand from her mother's as carefully as she can, so that she can use it to tuck a stray lock of hair behind her ear, instead, "I'd tell you if we weren't."

"Would you?"

"I would."

Casey would be a fool to pretend she cannot sense her mother's doubt. A fool to act as though her attempt at a lie was anywhere even remotely close to convincing, but that is precisely what she does, regardless of the inherent knowledge that she is failing before she ever truly begins.

For a moment, she almost expects her mother to call her on that very fact, but somehow, Penny seems to resist. A knowing look crosses over her features, but nothing else gives her away, and Casey allows herself to relax, albeit tentatively, in response.

With some difficulty, she brushes off the nagging sensation of guilt that threatens to pull her under as a result of her secrecy, and forces a smile to her lips not long after. Something her mother seems to anticipate, if the slightly raised brow is any sort of indication at all.

"You two have any plans to hang out while he's in town?"

"We're—yeah. I mean, nothing specific, until he figures out his own schedule, but—"

"But you're working on it."

"We are," Casey confirms, sinking back against the sofa cushions as soon as she senses her mother's desire to press for more information appears to have abated, even if only for a moment, "Something tells me he'll need to let off some steam."

"Because of your dad?"

"That's one of the reasons—"

"And Hangman is probably the other?"

"Hangman is definitely the other."

"Well, that should be interesting," Penny muses, sparing just long enough to manage a sip of her tea before going on, "Especially since he seemed rather interested in you."

"But I'm not interested in him."

"Does Rooster know that?"

"I don't—I don't really see why it would matter to him, either way," Casey admits, frowning as soon as she realizes her mother's expression indicates all too clearly that she is, once again, reading far too much into her relationship with Bradley, her current secret notwithstanding, "We're friends, Mom. Always have been, always will be."

"Some of the best relationships I know started out that way, you know."

"Not this one. You're doing that whole wishful thinking thing, again."

"Or maybe I'm just calling things as I see them."

Sighing, Casey chooses not to offer her mother a reply, at least not outright, her knowledge of Penny's long-standing desire to see her and Bradley as more than simply childhood friends bringing a flush to her cheeks whether she wants it to be there, or not. But for that particular reminder, she'd almost found herself tempted to blurt out the truth. To tell her mother exactly why she was so off-kilter with Bradley at the bar, and what had brought her back home.

As soon as she becomes aware of it, though, Casey finds herself clamming up once again, her fingers tightening around the mug of tea she holds in her own hands while she replies.

"Like I said. Wishful thinking."

Aware of her mother's clear disappointment, Casey does what she can to ignore it, her focus for the time-being rather fixed on the tea she holds between both hands. It is all that seems to be keeping her together, at the moment, though even that is a tall order as she once again finds herself held captive beneath her mother's attentive gaze.

She spends another moment or two wondering if Penny will continue pressing her presumed advantage. If she will continue to insist there is something more between her daughter, and the son of one of their family's oldest friends, but she does not. At least not for now.

Instead, Penny seems to take stock of her own beverage, another sip passing her lips and allowing her to drop her head back against the sofa with a satisfied sigh, before shifting the nature of their conversation in another direction entirely.

"I take it you and your dad will have something planned, too?"

"Dinner on Friday. He said if you wanted to come, too—"

"I think I'll let the two of you catch up first, before we try for any 'group dates'," Penny cuts in, this time offering her daughter a smile, and finding herself more than a little pleased to notice Casey returns the gesture with little to no hesitation at all, "I know what the two of you are like when you've been away from each other for long."

"You say that almost like it's a bad thing."

"It's a unique thing."

"Oh come on, we're not that bad," Casey protests, laughing a little as soon as she takes note of her mother's incredulous expression, and hurries to go on in defense of both her own, and her father's character as well, "Well, we aren't!"

"Keep telling yourself that, Casey. Maybe one of these days, it'll stick."

"Well, you're the one that puts up with us—"

"And you will leave out what that says about my sanity if you know what's good for you."

Another laugh escapes in response to her mother's quip, and Casey catches herself dodging the retaliatory swipe of Penny's foot at her shin with relative ease not long after, the relief she feels at the familiarity of the banter that rises up between them momentarily overriding any and all apprehension she might feel for what is to come. For a moment, she dares to believe that maybe, she can do this. That she can exist in Miramar with her family—with Bradley—and figure everything out in due time.

However foolish it may be, she clings to that belief as firmly as she can, needing it to be true far more than she honestly cares to admit. And even if her mother still suspects something is amiss, she manages to say absolutely nothing more on the subject at all…

And even if Casey knows she has hardly heard the last of it, she would be a liar to pretend she is not thrilled for the momentary reprieve, whether she truly feels she is deserving of such a thing or not.

…

The following morning, when Casey wakes, she very nearly takes a startled tumble out of her bed, the unexpected presence of another form perched upon its edge wringing a strangled yelp from her throat. Having always had something of a penchant for sleeping like the dead, she hadn't heard the bedroom door open, and hadn't felt the dip in the mattress when her step sister decided to sit down and wait for her to wake.

Amelia, of course, likely anticipated this, given the satisfied grin that pulls at both corners of her mouth. A reality she only proves in spades as soon as she opens her mouth to speak.

"Glad to know some things haven't changed—"

"And what is that supposed to mean?" Casey questions, her amusement quickly overriding her shock as she takes in Amelia's eager smile. Instinct propels her forward, and into her sister's waiting embrace, and she takes comfort in the gesture, regardless of how foolish it may make her feel to be the one seeking such a thing, rather than providing it. And even if Amelia wants to question the sudden surge of affection, all that she does is answer her sister's inquiry, instead.

"It just means you're as predictable as you've always been."

"Why do I get the feeling that's something of an insult?"

"Maybe because you're a little bit paranoid?" Amelia suggests, dodging away from Casey's half-heartedly aimed swat at her shoulder, though the escape does not prevent her from responding in kind, "I mean that affectionately—"

"Of course you do."

"I do!"

"Will you still call me paranoid—affectionately—if I ask why the hell you're not at school right now?"

"First period's free. Turns out I already have most of the credits I need to graduate."

"Right. I'd forgotten you're kind of a nerd," Casey teases, Amelia's answering roll of the eyes far more reassuring in its familiarity than she cares to admit, "You ready for that?"

"As ready as I'll ever be," Amelia states, her expression turning somewhat introspective while her teeth begin to chew at her lower lip. In seconds, she seems to shrink in on herself, and Casey hates that she almost automatically knows the reason why, a sigh escaping before she scoots forward to sit close enough to her step sister for her arm to brush against her side. Before she asks the one question she really wishes she did not have to ask.

"Have you talked to your dad at all?"

"Do you want the real answer to that, or the lie I tell myself when I need to feel better?"

"Mills—"

"I'm used to it. Really, Case. And besides, I've got—I've got Pete."

"Yeah, you do."

"Mom said he's back?"

"He is," Casey affirms, aware of how Amelia seems to instinctively lean against her side, and shifting so that she can wind her arm around the younger girl's shoulders in response, "They've got him teaching."

"Pete? Teaching?"

"I know. But apparently it was this or being grounded for good, so—"

"So he took it," Amelia surmises, her sister's answering expression far more of a confirmation than any verbal reply would ever be, "That'll be—interesting."

"Tell me about it," Casey agrees, the knowledge of her father's reluctance to go anywhere near a position that will keep boots on the ground provoking a faint grin, "He loves telling the story of the first time he was in a teaching position."

"The one that only lasted a few months?"

"That would be the one."

"Well, hopefully this one lasts a little longer."

Frowning at the thought of exactly what might stand to happen if her father doesn't manage to succeed in this new assignment, Casey spends a moment considering exactly what he would do. What it would mean for a man who'd devoted the majority of his life to a career that apparently had come very close to throwing him out.

She knows better than most that her father had built almost his entire identity around the Navy. That he'd never really considered anything else when it came to a career. It had been the one thing that kept him going through so much, both good and bad. And if he ended up losing it in the end, Casey honestly cannot say what he will do as a result.

"Mom said—she said that Rooster's back, too," Amelia says, then, clearly sensing the direction of Casey's thoughts, and seeking to pull her out of them as best she can, "You two have your big reunion, yet?"

"Um—sort of?"

"Just sort of?"

"I ran into him at the bar last night. Didn't really have time for anything else."

"No time at all?"

"He was a little busy, Mills," Casey informs, hoping that her response will not spark any suspicion on Amelia's part to exactly how odd things had been between her and Bradley the night before, "I'm sure we'll think of something, though."

"Think he's gonna be okay working with your dad?"

"Honestly? I don't—I don't really know."

The answer escapes before Casey can stop it, a wince passing over her features as soon as she recognizes Amelia's answering expression of concern, but there is little she can do to pull it back, now. Not when her sister is eyeing her as though she is starting to pick up on every last thing that she is attempting to keep hidden.

In next to no time at all, everything she has been trying so diligently to keep together appears to be unraveling, bit by bit. And half in an effort to delay the inevitable, Casey scrambles to find a way of shifting the conversation away from its current course before Amelia can ask anything more of her at all.

"Want me to take you to school?"

For a moment, Amelia almost appears inclined to protest. Casey can see it so very clearly in the determined set of her jaw, and the familiar glint of curiosity in her eyes. But instead of doing that, something seems to settle her resolve to simply letting the matter go, at least for now, and Casey takes some manner of relief from the fact that at least for the moment, she appears to have earned a reprieve.

Whether she deserves such a thing or not, is another matter entirely.

…

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