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Casey

In all his years, Casey had never felt so miserable.

He had one job. Babysit Hammy. By extension, treat him to a good time. Not only had he failed epically as an uncle, he′d also failed as a big brother. Cassie, his beloved sister, had entrusted him with her heart and soul; her boy. And Casey had lost him, like a leaf to the wind. At Santa Monica Pier, at that, where if your backpack wasn′t slung in front of you, it was no longer your property. Only a blithering idiot, he mentally berated himself, would leave a child alone.

A blithering idiot he was. ″Any luck?″ he probed, frightened eyes flitting across the crowd. He clung to Tanner incessantly, and far in the back of his mind, he guessed that he′d weirded him out. He slackened his hold on Tanner′s bicep, but felt a rush of terror surge through him as his gripped loosened on the strong man.

Tanner was built lean, jaw set resolutely upon broad shoulders. He had that delicate cameo look, and Casey was almost certain that he intentionally did all that he could to downplay his rugged handsomeness. The green, crisscross patterned flannel and the hair that looked as if he′d cut it himself merely hinted at that. He looked uncomfortable in his own skin.

Under lighter circumstances, Casey might′ve admired his rumpled, dark hair and the speckle of freckles that spread from his nose. He would′ve fought to tear his eyes off those lips. In the light of glaring displays, his eyes seemed to reflect the caerulean and orange hues, glinting irises canopied by the kind of lashes boys didn′t care about, and girls would kill for; eyes like imploding stars. Eyes, for that matter, whose gazed were trained on Casey.

He looked away. ″Em′s on her way,″ said Tanner. He added, ″Farissa isn′t answering my calls.″

Dread curled in the pit of Casey′s stomach. Four in a mass of thousands, searching for a single boy, were insurmountable odds. Not to mention, the odds that implied Hammy hadn′t merely wandered off. He could′ve been abducted, or worse, but Casey refused to consider what ″worse″ could be. Hope is like the sun, Tanner had said.

″Tanny!″ The voice had come from behind them. They whirled around. For a brief moment, Casey was reminded of the girl that had sat beside Hammy on the rollercoaster; the one his nephew had nicknamed Darla, after the antagonistic, fish-murdering brat from Finding Nemo. Albeit older, Emma bore her resemblance. Dyed purple pigtails, ribbons, a geeky t-shirt that read Multi-fandom Queen and a bracer-clad smile.

She carried herself with an unapologetic lumber. Casey smiled, though fleetingly. He′d met many plus-sized girls whose confidence wavered in public; the kind that often got called cute, but longed to be called beautiful. He′d never met a girl who owned it with pride. In Casey′s eyes, she certainly was. Beautiful, inside and out. He knew they′d get along even before he said, ″Hey.″

Emma squealed, surprising Casey, looking back and forth between him and Tanner. ″Oh. My. Gawd. He′s even cuter in person. Tanny, I knew you said he was hot, but －″

Tanner cleared his throat. Beside him, Casey blushed. His only hope was that the velvet of his cheeks was masked by the glow of neon lights. He said I was hot. Could that mean ...?

″Have you found Georgie?″ asked Emma.

Casey raised an eyebrow. ″Codenames,″ Tanner explained. Casey couldn′t tell, but his cheeks, too, appeared flushed. Maybe it was just the light. ″We haven′t found Hammy,″ he added.

Casey liked the way his nephew′s name rolled off Tanner′s tongue. His tone hinted at affection, the kind that Casey had for the young boy. Tanner′s voice replayed in his mind. I would never hurt him. ″What′s the plan?″ Emma bit her lip, hands on hips as she scanned their perimeter, ready to haul ass.