Casey’s door bumped open at 6:45 a.m. She bolted upright, reaching for the weighted bar she always left on her nightstand.
“Whoa there, killer. It’s me, Emery.”
Casey could only make out her sister’s silhouette against the hall light.
“Emery, you have two seconds to explain why you woke me up before my alarm.” She was supposed to meet Teagan for church, but that wasn’t for another couple hours.
“I’m not allowed to explain. I’m only here to tell you that you need to get up now, and you need to make sure you are fully clothed when you leave this room. You’ve been warned.”
With the click of her door closing, Casey once again sat in the dark, her foggy brain working overtime to decode her sister’s message. The scent of coffee laced with syrup wafted beneath her door. And was that bacon?
She tossed her duvet to the side and ran fingers through her shoulder-length tangled hair. Grabbing her phone, she turned her alarm off. Fifteen minutes. She could have had fifteen more minutes of glorious sleep. She’d tossed and turned until two, Shawn and Al’s advice rattling in her head: Let Micah explain. Let him into what she held behind the walls.
She was more mad at Micah this morning. His gorgeous, charming smile, that last kiss, and his infuriating nicknames had all cost her sleep. That alone was grounds for banishment from her life. Come to think of it, she might just ground Emery for life, too. That is, if she could talk her mom into letting Emery stay in Dallas.
Casey tugged open her door and trudged into the living room, squinting against lamps and early morning light filtering past her paneled curtains. And then she stopped.
Six-foot-three inches of gorgeous, infuriating SEAL moved around her kitchen, laying out plates and silverware with her sister.
She did a quick check. Shorts, “Namaste in Bed” long sleeve top, crazy, mismatched knee-high socks. Toothbrush. She needed a toothbrush. Even though he wouldn’t get anywhere near her lips again. But who didn’t want to brush their teeth before they ate, you know? She tiptoed quietly backwards in her sock-covered feet, watching Micah laugh with her little sister while he dished scrambled eggs onto a plate.
Within two minutes Casey’s mouth was minty fresh, her hair freshly combed, and her socks matching. All before 7:00 a.m. Winning.
She padded into the kitchen, her socks slipping slightly on the hardwood floor. She shuffled around the tiny island and stopped when she saw the fully laden, booth-style table tucked against the window overlooking the neighboring house.
“What’s going on in here?”
“Micah made us breakfast.” Her sister blushed. Clearly, Micah had a way with the women in this family.
“Correction.” He slung a dish towel over one shoulder and offered his annoying, heart-stopping grin. “A little birdie told me you have an interesting craving for red velvet pancakes with vanilla chips in them. So naturally, that birdie helped me out with the recipe. And all the baking, too.” He motioned to a covered platter on the table. A hint of red peeked through the translucent cover.
Casey’s mouth watered. Curse him. He had cooked her favorite food, and he looked far too good in his faded jeans and navy, V-neck t-shirt. She fought the urge to comb her fingers through her hair. Again. She was not that girl.
“Is this your way of saying ‘I’m sorry’ for blowing off your commitment to the tournament fundraiser?” She crossed her arms. Her anger and the tinges of betrayal reared their ugly heads again. Good. She’d rather that than what her traitorous heart wanted at the moment—to fill a cup of coffee, lean in for a morning kiss, and laugh with him over breakfast.
Something in her panicked. She’d never wanted those things. Never imagined them possible. But with Micah, she saw what could be, and it terrified her.
He was here for three to four more weeks from what she knew. And Casey couldn’t handle picking up pieces of her heart again.
Micah took a few tentative steps her way, his boots loud on the hardwood. Casey took a step back. He stopped. “Case, I am so sorry. I should have clarified the date with you. I thought you meant the Saturday the week following Thanksgiving. I was planning to be here, to be all in. And I would have been here this past Saturday, but my family unexpectedly bought me a ticket home for Thanksgiving. I didn’t intentionally let you down, but I know I left you without a coach, and I’m so sorry. Please let me make it up to you?”
Her heart pattered a bit faster and she shuffled on her feet. The pancakes smelled so good. And he had a good reason, right?
What was going on? She was never this girl. He’d broken her trust. She should stay angry.
But he’d also consistently been there when he hadn’t needed to be. And Casey couldn’t help but want to give him another chance. Just this once.
“C’mon, Sis. The food is getting cold. Look,” Emery pointed to a dozen coral roses. “He even brought flowers. Please?” Emery clasped her hands and batted her eyes. Eyes that had on makeup before seven in the morning. Casey smirked. Dang, this guy was good. Emery was a nightmare to get up in the morning.
“Please?” Micah mimicked Emery.
Casey’s choked back a laugh. “Fine. On two conditions.”
“Name them.”
“One. You hand me a cup of coffee within the next sixty seconds. It needs to have almond milk and a little honey in it.”
Micah’s brows rose, and the corners of his beautiful lips turned up. “That’s specific.”
She snatched her gaze from those lips and the memory of a couple weeks ago.
“Two, you never wake me up before my alarm again. I’m talking ever.”
His grin grew. He turned to pour her coffee and made quick work of adding almond milk and honey. He sat her flowery mug in front of a waiting plate in the breakfast nook and motioned to the chair. “Your morning drug call, my lady. Am I forgiven?”
Emery giggled from across the table. Casey glared at her.
“One more thing.” She took a step toward him. “Repeat after me: I’m a jerk for not calling the best woman to walk the earth, and as long as I am in Dallas, I will not bail on a commitment I make to her again.”
She kept her eyes glued on Micah as she moved toward the open chair. But her socks betrayed her. With flailing arms, she slipped and pitched forward. Right into Micah’s waiting arms.
Emery burst into laughter. Casey felt her face heat as every bit of blood in her body rushed to her cheeks. So much for her big power move.
She tried to pull away, but Micah shifted her and pulled her closer, his hands firmly anchored on her waist. “Casey, I’m a jerk for not calling the best and most beautiful woman I have ever met, and I will never even for a second bail on a commitment I make to her again, whether I’m in Dallas or not.” His deep voice poured over her, making her traitorous legs jelly beneath her. She leaned a little more into his chest, his lips now a whisper away.
“Please forgive me?” He whispered. Despite the teasing tone, sincerity rang clear in his gaze.
“For goodness sakes, forgive the handsome man so we can eat.”
Casey jerked away from Micah at her sister’s exclamation and plopped down in her chair.
“Good grief, Casey. You are one of the most stubborn people I have ever met.” Emery rolled her eyes and dished eggs onto her plate.
“I second that.” Micah slipped into the chair next to Casey.
She ignored his stare and reached for her favorite breakfast food, loading two red pancakes on her plate. She couldn’t help the groan as she took her first bite. “Oh my gosh, that little birdie outdid herself. Remind me to thank her later.”
His chuckle reignited the flames in her cheeks. What the heck? Die down, emotions and hormones. He’s not that handsome and charming.
Oh, who was she kidding?
His breath tickled her ear. “Guess that means I’m forgiven.”
This time she forced herself to meet his challenging stare, a stare that promised to revisit this moment later. “Just this once.”
As they passed pancakes and bacon around the table, Emery’s phone vibrated, rattling the dishes.
“No phones at the table,” Casey chirped, her spirits higher than normal for in the morning. Must be the coffee. Definitely the coffee.
“Yes, Mom.” Emery rolled her eyes and turned her phone on its face, but the vibrating continued every few seconds. She cast a quick glance at Casey.
“Go ahead. Check and see who it is.” Casey muttered around a bite of red velvet goodness.
Emery flipped her phone over. As she scrolled her brown face drained of color.
“Em, who is it?”
“It’s Mom.” Emery turned the screen so Casey could see some of the texts, filled with expletives and threats. “And she’s not happy.”
Micah didn’t know who to comfort or who to protect—Casey or Emery. Probably both. Casey paled, her tanned face now matching her sister’s. Definitely both. The more time he spent around Casey, the more the warrior, the protector inside rose to the surface.
“Case, what’s going on?”
“What?” She shook her head, her beautiful brown eyes focusing on him and growing into saucers. “Oh shoot. It’s nothing. I can handle it. I got it.”
“Case.” He rested a hand on her knee. “You and Emery don’t look so great. What’s going on? How can I help?”
“Help?” She squeaked and cleared her throat. “I don’t think you can help. Our mom is just upset about something.”
“About . . .”
“It’s noth . . .”
“Al hooked Casey up with a lawyer to talk about getting custody of me so I don’t have to live with mom anymore, and mom found out and now’s she mad and Casey will probably get a call and get cussed out in a couple minutes.”
“Em!” Casey yelled.
Micah whistled low. “Okay. That’s a lot.”
Casey ignored him and turned to her sister. “Why and how?”
Emery grimaced. “I’m sorry.” Her hands flew around her head like a swarm of mosquitoes. “You know I ramble when I get nervous, and mom makes me nervous when she gets mad, which is half the time, and I overhead you talking to the lawyer on the phone asking questions, and I think it’s great because your house is so much calmer than home and you don’t get mad at me like mom, and I’ll miss my friends but I like my new ones here and . . .”
“Em, rambling.” Casey smothered a strained laugh. Micah wasn’t so successful. He shoved another pancake bite in his mouth.
“Well at least you don’t ever have to worry about her keeping a secret,” Micah offered Casey a smile.
She chuckled and then groaned, rubbing her hands over her face. “Ugh, there is that.”
Emery only nodded, her cheeks now boasting a slight pink shade.
“So what are you going to do? How can I help?” Micah squeezed Casey’s knee, taking it as a good sign that she hadn’t jerked away. Either that or she was too preoccupied, but he preferred to think positively.
“Know anything about custody? I was just asking questions. I wasn’t ready to do anything. But this might ruin everything.” Her brow quirked. Micah thought it was the cutest look.
“Well I don’t know a ton. Your mom is probably just surprised and lashing out. I’m sure she will calm down.”
Casey and Emery both laughed. “Mom doesn’t really calm down. She just escalates more,” Emery chimed in.
Casey’s phone rang on the table between them.
Micah tossed his head back in a laugh. “You have the purple emoji devil head next to your mom’s name? I’m sensing some things you need to pray through.”
The phone kept ringing.
“Baby steps, Genius. Baby steps.”
“Genius, huh?”
She leaned in closer, picking his finger up and dropping his hand from her knee. “Don’t make me call you the opposite.”
“Feisty.”
“Guys, hello! Not the time to flirt. Are we answering Mom or not?”
Micah knew the ringing would come to an end within seconds. Without pausing to consider the consequences, he grabbed the phone and lunged away from the table.
“Casey’s phone, Micah speaking.”
Silence. On the phone and from the women sitting at the table with their mouths hanging open.
“Hello?”
“I’m sorry, who is this?”
“My name is Micah, ma’am.”
“Don’t call me ma’am. I’m not old. My name is Mona. And don’t listen to anything my daughters tell you about me. They are ungrateful little liars, and . . .”
“I’m going to have to stop you there. I happen to think both your daughters are pretty great.”
Casey was out of her chair and on her toes reaching for the phone. Micah wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her to his other side, keeping the phone just out of reach from her short arms.
“Well apparently, they have you fooled. Now I want to talk to my daughter. Now, Mathias.”
“It’s Micah. Your daughters aren’t available, ma’am.” She rattled a string of curse words in his ear. He wouldn’t have handed over the phone if someone paid him. This lady was out of line.
Casey fumed and stretched, but Micah pinned her to his side. He held the phone away and turned his focus to Casey. “Do you mind? I’m trying to help you out.”
“I don’t want your help.” She strained for the phone. Yelling continued to stutter through the speaker. Casey still fought for the phone. “She won’t change, and this isn’t your problem.”
“Wrong, Case.” Micah set the phone on the island, wrapped his arms around Casey, and pulled her flush to his chest. She stopped squirming, shock and frustration dancing through the flecks of caramel in her dark chocolate eyes. “I care about you so it is my problem. Plus, she ruined a completely good breakfast moment.”
The shrieking reached a new pitch.
Casey gripped Micah’s shirt, staring at the phone just to the side. “Micah, give me the phone. Please. This isn’t your fight.”
Keeping his gaze leveled with hers, he put the phone back to his ear. Using a voice better suited for his team in the middle of an operation, Micah stopped Mona’s tirade. “I’m sorry, Mona, but Casey and Emery are unavailable right now. When you calm down and are able to talk to your daughters without mistreating them, you are welcome to call back. Have a good morning.” With one quick move, he hung up.
For the second time that morning, Casey’s mouth hung open. She stopped fighting, her body still wound tight in his arms.
With one finger, he tipped her chin up, closing her mouth. She swallowed, remained still. “What did you just do?” she whispered.
Micah slipped her phone back into her hand and turned her back to the table. “I might have just delayed the inevitable, but right now, in this moment when she is most angry, you don’t need to talk to her. You don’t have to talk to her.” He guided her to her chair and placed her coffee mug in her hand, grinning at how docile she remained. He liked surprising her, even in the midst of unfortunate circumstances.
“Micah, this is a mess.” Casey put her head in her hands. Emery slipped next to her sister, curling into her side and wrapping her arms around Casey’s neck.
“It’s a mess you don’t need to handle alone.”
“Ellie’s Place exists to be a home away from home for kids.” New mentor orientation had begun. Teagan had led the first part of the presentation, laying out the duties, responsibilities, and expectations. But Casey had the best part of the presentation.
She shared the heart. She shoved away all thoughts of her mom and yesterday’s call and focused on instilling a vision near and dear to her own heart. She prayed it fell on listening ears.
“We don’t want our mentors to hang out with the kids, check our volunteer box, and go home. We want to see real change.” She settled in to her favorite part of the presentation. In front of her sat nearly twenty young adults, parents, and grandparents from around Dallas. “Think back to a time in your life when you felt stuck, trapped by circumstances, emotions, or even people.” Casey thought back to life with her mother and the endless cycle of verbal and emotional abuse by the men allowed in the house. “Most of you were blessed enough to have resources available to break free. Most of our kids do not. But they want to. And we show them how.”
Just like Al and Ellie had shown Casey how to let go of pieces of her past when she stumbled her way to Dallas.
“You get to encourage them, challenge them, walk next to them. You get to show them that you are in their corner. It’s why we vet you so seriously. We aren’t just mentoring and helping with homework. We are mentoring and changing character, lives, the way they see and feel about themselves.”
She clicked to the next slide showing the photo from the community event the year before that had brought the community together.
“We are about transformation of this community with the goal of seeing a new generation succeed and break free from the status quo. There are a ton of kids out there who need to know they can make a difference, that they have talent and brains—they need to know they can accomplish big things. They need to know they are not alone, that you aren’t coming down here to show up and leave. We want you to integrate into their lives. Meet their family and teachers. Know their schedule. Help them dream. Help them plan.”
Casey paced in front of the group, making eye contact with each person. Tears pricked her own eyes. Once upon a time, someone had done this for her, and it had changed everything. “Let’s show them they have a future. Let’s give them something to hope for, shoot for. Welcome to Ellie’s Place.” The volunteers cheered, and Casey joined in their revelry.
In the back, holding a cup of coffee with a look Casey had seen in far too many romance movies, stood Micah Richards, whistling and cheering with the rest. She remembered the grin on his face as he handed her coffee yesterday morning in her kitchen, almost like he enjoyed being there. Like he belonged.
As Teagan ushered the volunteers out of the classroom for a tour of the center, Micah strode up to the front of the room. Twice in one day. She didn’t know what to do with him.
“Coffee, m’lady.” He offered the paper cup with a slight bow.
“Medieval Times called. They want their nickname back.” Casey rolled her eyes but accepted the offering. He’d had her up before the alarm. It was only fair that he brought gifts.
“I’ll just tell them I’ve put it to good use.” He took a step into her personal bubble, and she immediately blocked with a hand, pushing back on his chest.
“Oh no you don’t. That one is not sticking. Back to the drawing board, mister.”
His warm chuckle made her cheeks flush in response. Or maybe it was steam from the coffee. She took a quick sip. Yep. Definitely the coffee.
“That was pretty great, you know?” He nodded to where the volunteers had sat moments before.
“That is one of my favorite things about this place—painting the vision for what could be for these kids. My job is earning their trust. Getting them to talk to me. Sharing their confusion, pain, anger, tears. We’ve literally seen kids of every color walk through these doors, and the same thing remains true—they want and need someone to fight for them, to love them, to tell them they can do big things. That kind of encouragement spans ethnicity, socioeconomic standards, religious backgrounds, and more. Al and Ellie,” she motioned to the room around them, “they made all that possible.”
He stepped into her bubble again, this time skimming his fingers down her arms before tangling his fingers with hers. His dark eyes held admiration and something else she couldn’t pinpoint. Pride? Longing? Either way, he chipped further into her wall. “You, Casey Stewart, make all this possible. Your walls don’t exist for these kids. You see the hurt and step into the fight.” Another step closer. One hand slipped up and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear before slowly grazing her cheek. Her breath stalled.
His lips were an inch away, his fingers stroking her face with tenderness that punched holes through every foundation inside her. “Why won’t you let anyone step into the fight for you?” he whispered.
“Case?”
Casey sprang away from Micah, bumping into a desk and stumbling over a chair before finally righting herself. His smirk told her enough. He knew he’d cracked another wall. And he was willing to let her retreat. For now.
“Case?”
“Yeah, Teag.”
Teagan rounded the doorway and handed Casey her phone. “TJ just called. The police are at his house. He’s asking if you can come.”
Casey grabbed her phone and bolted from the room with Micah hot on her heels.
“Casey, Bianca is in your office.” Emery stepped in front of her. Casey grabbed onto Emery’s shoulders to avoid plowing her over.
“You almost hit the floor, little sis. I have to go. TJ needs me.”
“But Bianca said she really needs to talk to you. She’s crying, too. I told her you can help fix whatever it is. Can you go talk to her, please?”
Micah gripped her waist. His touch grounding her. “You take care of Bianca. I’ll go to TJ.”
Casey whirled around to study his face, her hand finding his and squeezing. “Are you sure? TJ’s had it rough. If the police are at his house, then I may need to go.”
“Casey, I’m sure. I know TJ. I coach TJ. And I can’t talk to Bianca. Only you can. You can’t do everything, Super Girl. How about tagging me in for this one?”
That smirk was back, which snapped Casey out of the cloud hanging over her. She couldn’t be in two places at once. So far, she didn’t have a body double, but she really needed to look into inventing that tool.
“Alright, you can be my sidekick this once. I’m not sure you are up to the task, but hey, we all have to start somewhere.”
Micah took a step back, pulling his keys from his pocket. “Is that how you tell your mentors to encourage the kids? I think we may need to work on your affirmation skills there, Doc.”
He was almost at the door.
“Casey, she’s waiting.” Emery tugged at her arm.
With a final look to Micah, she offered a small smile and a small prayer that he could handle this. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”
“Honey, I don’t think you could keep up with my pace. I’m slowing down to meet yours.”
Before she could protest, he was out the door.