“College and beyond?” I answer immediately. I mean, who the fuck knows how long normal families have their kids living them? “You want to live with me?”
He doesn’t respond at first. Refocusing on the bag, he begins to go through his left arm punches.
The silence is killing me, but I don’t want to pressure him to say yes.
“Yeah, I do,” he finally says while punching the bag.
“Even if I’m a dick that makes you go to school and do your homework? A dick who makes you do your chores and shit? You get to be a normal kid too, but our house will have rules, and I’ll have to punish you if you break curfew or something,” I say, and hope he gets what I’m trying to say.
Casey sounds almost hopeful as he asks, “You mean like a normal life and family?”
All of a sudden, I feel domestic. “Fuck yeah. Like you’ll have dinners and we’ll have homework schedules.”
Casey starts to smile. “Yeah, I like the idea of that. I mean, I had that with grandma and grandpa, but…”
“You know I’ll be a hardass on ya if you fuck around, right? And you can’t just go back to them if you’re mad at me. We’re going to be a real family, Casey. Even if you don’t like me, you’ll be stuck with me.”
“What the fuck are you two gabbing about!” Dale bellows out behind us.
We both turn to face Dale, but I speak first. “We’re setting up house. He’s moving in full-time with me.”
“Oh,” Dale mutters. “Good, don’t slack off, dammit.”
Turning away from us, he marches over to the front desk. I swear I’ve never seen him do an about face that quick before…
Casey turns to me and says, “I love Grandma and Grandpa, but I need to do this for me. One thing though, and you have to swear on my dad to me.”
Fuck, whatever he’s about to ask me is serious.
“What’s that?” I ask.
“You can’t drink again, I mean it. Not a single drop. Not ever again.”
From the look on his face, it’s clear that he’s dead serious.
Fuck.
How the hell do I swear to that? If I do that, I’m swearing I’ll never slip up again. I’ll never fuck up again.
I’ll have to live life on the straight and narrow.
He’s asking me to not do something that some nights every single fiber in my being wants to do. He’s asking me to never again find the numbness in a bottle, to never again enter that state where my brain can quit thinking of all the bad shit.
“I promise on Tommy,” I say.
“Okay, we need to call Grandma and get the rest of my stuff. Also, can we get Netflix?” he asks.
My head wants to spin with how fucking easy that shit just went down, but fuck it. I need this as much as he does.
“Sure, and Casey? I think your dad would be happy with what we’re doing,” I say.
“Me too, Mom,” he says with a laugh before he starts kicking the bag again.
I’m going to kill the little shit, I swear to myself, and start kicking the bag too.
Chapter Eighteen
Bree