Chasing Innocence | ✓

32 | hopeful pleadings

I feel like a robot. My hands move on their own accord: filling beers, serving drunks, blankly staring ahead asking people what they want.

I didn't sleep very well. I'd parked my car out the front of work for the night, sleeping in the back seat. It still isn't safe for me to go home and I couldn't stay with Beckett either. So I stayed in my car, waking to the sound of Cash's knuckles wrapping loudly against my back window.

I'd given him minimal details of my situation. He'd agreed to let me sleep inside for a few nights. He'd wanted me to come home with him and his family but I'd told him I couldn't drag him into this too. I think he was glad, really. Only offering because he felt like it was the right thing to do. But I could see the relief on his face, knowing that I wasn't going to put his family in danger.

So, sleeping in the storage room it is for a few nights. Cash had brought me a blow up mattress from his house and tears had gathered in the corners of my eyes. I don't know too many bosses who are as cool as Cash. As easy-going and understanding.

Beckett places a hand on my back, and I turn to watch him. His gaze is sympathetic. As of right now, he's the only one who knows exactly what is going on. I haven't called Maia or Layla. I know it will cause unwanted concern.

I hadn't mentioned to Beckett anything to do with the murder of Matthew or that I'd aided the Patridge brother's in finding the evidence. I'd simply said that I'd had an argument with them. One that meant I needed to leave. He hadn't questioned me further. I think he is just glad I'm not staying there anymore.

"How you holding up?" he asks.

I shrug. "I'm fine, really. I just want it all to be over."

"What if— I know you said you can't stay with me, but what if I stay with you? Here?"

"Beckett," I laugh. "You want to give up the luxury of your apartment to stay in the storage room with me?"

"That's exactly what I'm saying," he grins. "At least you won't be alone."

It did worry be a little bit. At night, I'd lock up, turn off all the lights and be here in silence. It didn't help that I'd never gotten those pills off Marco to help me sleep before I left. I'd be wide awake all night.

"No," I shake my head. "I said I didn't want you dragged into this. I mean it."

Beckett frowns, pouring a beer from the tap. He passes it to a customer without looking at him. "Too bad. You can't stop me."

"Beckett," I sigh.

"If it's not safe, then I don't want you staying here alone," he snaps, grabbing my shoulder and turning me to face him. Customers begin to bark orders at us but Beckett ignores them. "I'm staying here with you."

I know that he isn't going to listen to me. I'd prolonged him enough, but there is only so much he is going to listen to before he just doesn't.

He smiles triumphantly, turning back to a customer that snaps at him for bad service. He doesn't even care.

"How great," he grins, "a sleepover with my best friend."

"Don't make it weird," I grumble. "You're making it weird."

Beckett's grin only widens as he whips me with a tea towel. I shake my head at him, turning back to serve a customer as the doors open.

I do a double take when I see who's walking in. "Beckett, cover me?" I order, stepping away from the bar before he even gets to answer.

"Casey," I call out, spotting the brown haired boy as he begins walking up to the bar. I loop my arm through his, pulling him backwards towards the exit. "You can't just keep showing up here. You're underage, for starters."

"I need to talk to you," he says.

We make it outside; the dark pool of the night sky is beginning to shine brighter than the last rays of sun. I cross my arms over my chest as I search the car park for his car.

"Brax didn't bring me," he tries to hide his smile, coughing into his hand. "Sorry."

I wave off the disappointment I suddenly feel, masking it with a frown. "Why would you be sorry for that? I don't care what your brother does. Why didn't you just call me if you needed to talk?"

Casey stares at me warily, like he doesn't believe a single word I've said. "Because I wanted to see you in person. To make sure that you're okay."

I soften, pulling him away from the building as a group of men boisterously walk inside, shouting at each other. "I'm fine," I smile sadly. "It was— I mean I was going to say it was a shock, but it's not. I should have seen it coming."

"Marco did it on his own," Casey says. "He didn't tell Xav or Brax at the time. He just went back there and— and well, you know."

"Do you think it was necessary?" I ask, breathless. It had been a small doubt of mine, whether I'd overreacted.

Matthew hadn't been a good person, but murder? Did he deserve that? I believe he didn't for the most part, but I always have doubts.

"No," Casey shakes his head. "I think— I think the evidence would have been enough. Marco has always been impulsive, though. He doesn't think about the long term, just about solving issues quickly."

"Don't excuse him then," I say, sternly. "He isn't a nice person. You know that."

"Trust me, I'm not," Casey frowns. "I've wanted him out of the house since he moved in. So has mum. The others don't seem to care as much, but I've never liked him. He's a bad influence."

I shake my head, saddened that Casey — the youngest of the bunch — somehow ended up with the best morals. He shouldn't have to deal with all this.

"Anyway," Casey clears his throat, scuffing his shoe into the concrete. "I really came here because I want you to consider coming back."

I'm shaking my head before he's even finishing, stepping away on instinct. He holds out a hand, running it through his hair.

"As much as I hate what Marco did too, you're not safe without us," Casey pleads. "I don't want you to get hurt because of us."

"I love you, Case, but—"

"Really?" he grins. "Wow, wait until I tell the others— sorry, serious conversation. Got it."

"I can't go back there," I say apologetically. "Not with what Marco did—"

"If he moves out?" he tries, pleadingly.

I think about it for a moment. "I don't know. Maybe if he moves out I'll think about it—"

"Done," he says triumphantly, extending his hand out for me to shake.

I frown, shaking it regardless. "How are you going to persuade Marco to move out?"

He starts walking backwards, his brown hair caught in the wind as he eyes light up mischievously. He points finger guns at me, grinning. "Trust me. I have my ways."