Chasing Casey

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Dedication: Profashionall for the amazing cover! Thank you!

Recap:

Shaking my head, my thoughts whirling in my mind restlessly, I wandered towards my house. As I entered, I continued to rub my finger over my pulsing lips.

"What the hell was that?" My mother asked, her voice venomous. "Please don't tell me I just saw what I think I did."

I blinked at her, as she stood there, her hands on her hips.

Well, shit.

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"How could you be so stupid?"

"Define stupid in this situation."

"You've been down this road before, Sadie," my mother said in a low, eerily calm voice. "It almost destroyed you. Don't do this again."

"Why, you think Isaac is going to kill himself to?" I pressed, my upper lip curling as my hands balled into fists at my side. "Do you think I drive people to want to do that?"

"Of course not-"

"Then why the hell would you make it out that if I decide to be with Isaac, his fate will be sealed like his brother's?"

"I'm just saying-"

"You're my mother. You should support me and ask me questions and protect me. Not make me feel even worse about the decision I've made."

"Just let me-"

"Save it," I snapped, holding my hand up in a stop signal. "I've heard enough."

Turning on my heel, I stomped towards the front door and slammed it hard behind me. I threw myself into Casey's car and peeled from my driveway as fast as I could. My hands were shaking as I gripped the steering wheel.

I drove through town and angled my car so that it was facing the river. I let out a slight sob as I leant forward, the last 24 hours catching up to me.

Owen.

Marissa.

Isaac.

My mother.

It was all too much.

Closing my eyes, I pressed my forehead firmly against the steering wheel and thought back to a time where it was so much simpler.

"What do you want to be when you grow up?"

"When I grow up?" I snickered, watching Casey's hand play with my fingers.

"Yeah," he said, rolling his eyes. "You know what I mean."

"Umm... I would love to be a singer."

"I love you, but you can't sing for shit," he stated honestly. "Let's be realistic here."

"Hey!"

"The truth hurts," he shrugged.

"I like to write." I stated simply. "I think becoming a published author would be cool."

"I like your stories," he murmured, his thumb caressing my palm, making jolts of electricity spike through my veins. "Especially when I'm in them."

"You're always in them," I laughed.

"Of course. I make an awesome protagonist."

"Look at you, using smart words," I said to him, sticking my tongue out.