casey.

Full Name: Casey Marie Callahan 

Date of Birth: July 8th, 1999 

Age: 23

Gender: Cisfemale

Pronouns: She/Her

Birthplace: Lockwood Springs, CO

Religion: Agnostic 

Occupation: Music teacher at Bloom Elementary, singer 

How long as she been in Lockwood Springs: Entire life, minus college

Where does she live?: Downtown

WANTED CONNECTIONS | STATS | FULL BIO | HEADCANONS

In Summary: 

Tw: death of a parent, car accident, divorce 

at: the walk to bloom elementary @caseycallahan​

-

Sometimes the girls talked for no other reason than talking. If Leyla had a bad memory, she’d forget half of the ideas they shared with one another because there were always so many. In a way, Casey was the teacher that Leyla pictured whenever she imagined an elementary school teacher. At first, it wasn’t who she ever thought she’d become either but it all worked out rather perfectly. “Oh that thing with Tate?” she clicked her fingers, suddenly remembering it and diverting the conversation to a whole new topic accidentally. “Do you think you guys will be ready soon? I’m super excited and I might have…on accident, said to Mia there’ll be a surprise soon and now she’s told about three other kids which means…everyone is expecting a surprise. But we could totally trick them and hand out some stickers like surprise! And then when you and Tate do the thing, Ha, real surprise!”

-

Having work buddies is Casey’s second favorite perk of being a teacher, falling second in line to getting to instill a love and appreciation for music into her kiddos. These walks, they’re a highlight of her day, but she becomes incredibly alert at the mention of Tate’s name, a little alarm signaling in her brain that it’s time to talk about her heart’s favorite subject. If Leyla didn’t have her undivided attention before, she definitely has her laser focus now. But it’s not the conversation she’s hoping to have, her green eyes growing wider the more her friend talks. “Oh no, Leyla!” Her smile falls. It’s the very last thing she wanted to happen, which has been very hard for her too. It should come as no surprise that Casey’s never been very good at harboring secrets, especially good secrets like surprises. There’s been many times when she’s had to bite her tongue, the news of her project with Tate nearly spilling out to her class, but she’s been good. She’s been able to keep the surprise to herself, because she knows her students’ excitement will outweigh hers. What she has that they naturally lack because of their age is patience. Once they know something good is around the corner, they worry themselves sick trying to make it happen sooner. Casey shakes her head, pulling herself back in. “It’s okay. That’s totally fine! I think the whole sticker diversion is a really, really good idea. Maybe we can throw in some little snacks too? That should hold them over until Tate and I are done, which we are almost done. There’s like some little things we’re still figuring out and like trying to wrap up, but it is coming together nicely if I do say so myself,” She nods, her face flushing slightly as she reminisces on the evenings they’ve spent together putting the plan into motion.

it’s easy to get lost in casey when she begins talking, because her eyes light up with a passion and zest for life which is infectious and engaging. the way she talks about music reminds tate of when he finds a book that captures his imagination and casey callahan is the most amazing composition of stories he has ever read. she’s impossible to put down and each page is like a new fantasy. he smiles as she speaks, nodding and catching her excitement. “we can handle them, you’d probably be able to make a song about their insults.” he laughs but he does believe casey has the gift to make everything into pretty sounding melodies. “when you think about it, poems are basically songs without the music. i mean sure poems don’t really have a bridge or chorus but some do, but they all have a rhythm, right? so i just know you’re going to find it easy to put music to words. i can think up some poems about the class, or maybe…” he’s on the same wavelength now of excitement and begins clearing the counter top so he can grab a notepad and start jotting down their thoughts as they pop out of their mouths. “ok so, how many students do you have? because, we could probably write little songs about each student and something about their personality? you know how snoop dogg did the positive affirmations things for kids? we could do something like that but it’s tailor made to the students and the class.” maybe they’ve bitten off more than they can chew but most things feel possible when he’s with casey, in fact everything feels possible apart from telling her that he loves her. “i’d trust you with my kids, for sure. you’d be the best mom.” he hopes that doesn’t sound strange, she knows what he means he’s sure of it. 

-

Is Casey being too obvious? Surely, Tate can see her heart right there in her eyes, a soft, frankly too fond smile settling on her lips while he talks about how songs and poetry are one in the same. What a terrible cliche this is. She’s in love with her best friend, and for whatever reason, it feels like it’s a secret that’s growing harder to maintain. Of course, she will maintain it, feeling as if she doesn’t have any other choice. It is a difficult position to be put into. Of wanting to sing her love from the mountain tops, yet having a debilitating fear of ruining a friendship that’s run the course of her entire life. “No, that’s exactly right. You’re so right. I’d love that. They’d love that,” Casey says, in too much of an awe to form a more coherent thought. Why is he so perfect? It’s no secret she looks for him in every guy she meets, making unfair comparisons and finding herself disappointed when the poor gentleman she’s trying to get to know doesn’t meet the Tate sized expectation she’s set for him. Tate wouldn’t have said that. Tate would’ve found this funny. Tate. Tate. Tate. Maybe this is why she’s destined to be alone. Who can compete with someone who has had her heart for this long – unrequited or not? He is the bright spot in her day, the music in her soul. But in a position like this, you have to learn to make peace, and that is exactly what she’s done. There will come a day when there’s a girl who makes Tate feel all the ways Casey feels about him, and Casey, being the less fortunate of the two, will be happy that her best friend is happy. She will try, even if it kills her. And yet again, she gets too carried away. “Okay, I might have to stop you there,” She laughs, but she can’t help but feel incredibly touched that his passion for this reaches the levels of hers. “I have five classes including my homeroom class, and there’s about twenty to twenty five kids in each class. If you think we can handle it, we can just do the little personalized poems for my favorite, most well behaved class as a little something special. Like I’m afraid if we try to do a poem for all of my students, we’ll be working on this until they graduate from high school,” She smiles at her own joke. Her face grows warmer, a faint blush rising in her cheeks. “Thank you. I think you’d be the best dad, and I’m not just saying that because you said I’d be the best mom first. I mean it,” She says assuredly. “It’s only half of the reason why I asked you to do this, anyway. I wouldn’t just trust anyone around my kiddos. Being the mom friend or the dad friend of the friend group is a requirement.”

“My bad, my comedic timing kind of sucks, huh?” He let out a little laugh with her and sips his drink. Remi shook their head at her question because he hadn’t been looking at all. He knew Juliette would have him join in on all the fun working for the town mobsters but that seemed like a bad idea. It was why he ran to begin with, right? Not to have to deal with a life of crime or boring corporate business stuff. “I haven’t been looking yet.” They admitted. It was something they would have to face eventually but at the moment they would rather coast by unnoticed until they spent the last of their money or they were forced into responsibility. Remi never thought they’d make a good adult. “Oh! Can I help? I could come up with little notes or riffs or even a baseline or two if that would spark inspiration. Maybe say random words or quotes or feelings?” It was becoming painfully obvious that Remington missed making music and playing for that matter, though that they continued to do almost daily. Just alone instead of with other people. “It’s really good. I forgot Muse existed for a minute but that reminded me,” they let out another small chuckle. “Oui, yeah they were cool from what I remember. Hayley I didn’t talk to a ton, I know Zac. But they all seem like solid people.” As was the case partying with other bands, Remi tended to stay off to the side and stay out of the way so he normally only got to know the ones doing the same thing. “It’s hard to party with people like that sometimes. Too many big personalities in one room. One of the many things I learned touring. But you meet a lot of cool people, too. Fans are kind of surreal though. I’ve never wrapped my head around it.”

-

This is too much. Now he’s offering to write music together. Who are they? Stevie Nicks and Lindsey Buckingham before they got into Fleetwood Mac? Of course she’s getting ahead of herself on the foundation of his simple question alone. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea. Not because of you, I’m sure you’re great. It sounds like I’m breaking up with you. I’m sorry, but it’s me that I’m worried about,” She politely turns down the offer. Making music, writing songs, it’s an extremely personal process for Casey. There aren’t many people she trusts or allows into such a sacred space, and pretty or not, Remi is a stranger. “You’d be too distracting, but thank you so much for the offer anyway,” She says sincerely. It really was a sweet offer. She tries moving on quickly, putting it behind her and trying not to let it linger on her mind. If she gives it time to fester, she’s afraid she'll find a way to remember the moment as more awkward than it actually was. It’s no big deal, right? He won’t be offended. Surely, he understands. 

“The scene that the Muse song is in? It’s iconic. It’s so good,” Her excitement to talk about Twilight shines through her as she sits a little straighter, smiles a little brighter, her eyes lighting up a little more. But it’s listening to them talk about life as a musician that goes straight to the center of her heart. “Oh my god,” Casey sighs near dreamily as she looks at Remi with disbelief, shaking her head. “Just so you know, you’ve lived like my wildest dream. Not just the Hayley Williams thing, which I mean that’s still huge, and that’s pretty high up there, but the being a musician and going on tour and having fans thing. Like I just – wow,” Her words are softer, almost sad despite the seemingly permanent smile still fixed on her face. “I mean I’m nowhere on that scale, but I make music too. If it wasn’t obvious,” Casey chuckles a little, fingers lightly tapping against the songbook she still clutches to her chest. 

•

Casey has always been the sort of friend Nora needed growing up. Someone who didn’t try to tell her things would be okay when they didn’t feel like they would be. She wasn’t someone who told her to keep fighting, even though she did. Casey sat with her when it was hard, held her hand and let her know that no matter what, she’d be there. So her presence is even more of a comfort now than she probably realizes, even with everything going on. It’s good to have her near. “Not yet…I don’t think. They don’t uh…well, I haven’t been told much,” Nora sighs with a shrug, glancing at her friend. “Your dad’s working on it right?” She’s sure Sheriff Callahan will figure it out, but she does wonder how long it’ll take before then. 

Nora smiles at the mention of being away from home. “Oh yeah? If every weekend were like the ones when I visited, it’s a wonder anyone ever graduates.” She hadn’t gone to college herself but visiting her friend had been something she looked forward to, and pretending for a few days that she was just as normal as everyone else. “What do you think you’d get your masters in? Would it take long? You should do it…how much is it?” she rapid fires her questions as she slices into the bread, unceremoniously plopping a piece onto each plate. 

“I’m glad they’re good,” she nods affirmatively, taking a bite and humming. “Oh, this one’s great, Case – did you tweak the recipe?” Her other batches were good too but this one was especially delicious. Maybe it was just the circumstances making anything sweet taste sweeter in light of the bitter taste she’d had in her mouth for days…but she doesn’t think so. Frowning a bit, Nora leans her elbows on the counter, canting her head to the side. “Weird? Like how? Was Tate around?”

-

“He is, yeah. Of course, I can ask him if he knows anything yet, but like legally and what not, I’m not sure how much he’ll actually be able to tell me,” Casey offers an apologetic smile, sincerely wishing there was more she could do to help Nora and her family. What she does know is it’s not like how it is on TV. Evidence, clues, or whatever else doesn’t simply fall into one’s lap. Witnesses don’t always come out of the woodworks with damning information, especially in cases like this. It’s a much slower process, which goes without saying. Besides, her best friend wasn’t born yesterday. She’s sure she knows, but still, it is unfortunate. 

Casey’s bright laughter fills the kitchen as the memories from the weekends Nora mentions floods her mind. Truth be told, those were some of her favorite moments in college, when Nora or Tate would come visit her up in Boulder. Having her best friends from home there with the little family she’d created for herself in college always made her heart sing. “Well naturally I had to lay out the red carpet whenever you came, so,” She teases with a big smile. “And that was mild in comparison. Imagine if I was a sorority girl or something,” She says. The thought is incredibly laughable. She wouldn’t have made it pass rush, much less indoctrination into cult like sisterhood. “Oh, music education! It would only take two years, but that’s a lot of time and a lot of money, like almost $60,000,  to get a pretty degree just so I can keep teaching little kids songs. Like if I wanted to go on and teach at a higher level like college or something, then maybe, but I don’t think that’s for me. I love my kiddos,” Casey shrugs, picking off a corner of her banana bread and tossing it into her mouth.  

“Thank you! I did, yeah! I’m so glad you noticed,” She says, and she means it. Small details getting noticed is a love language of hers, not that she’d ever do anything to point them out or that she waits expectantly for people to notice things. It’s just nice when they’re noticed. “Um, just like –” Casey sighs at the thought of the Millie incident, once again thinking of how to best put it. “I don’t really know how to describe it honestly. Tate wasn’t there, or at least I don’t think so. I was going up to the house, and she wouldn’t let me in? Then she came outside, but it was obvious she was trying to keep me from thinking something was wrong even though something was obviously wrong?”

.

Millie felt bad being so secretive, it wasn’t like her and she preferred to be honest whenever possible. Casey was a sweet girl that she loved just as much as if she was one of her own. It felt wrong but it was for her safety. If her or Arthur knew they would understand, she was sure of it. “Hi, sorry about that.” She grabbed the bread wondering if she’d already apologized or not and just how weird all of that seemed. Millie knew she wasn’t fooling her but she also knew she wasn’t able to tell her when Tate and her dad still didn’t know. She didn’t know how she was going to tell them either. “Your place would be great!” It came out with more excitement than needed. Millie took a breath when the house was out of sight and she glanced over to Casey with a tight lipped smile. “This looks great, sweetie. I can’t wait to try it. Focaccia, right?” She hoped she was right and didn’t insult her dish on top of everything else. That would be the worst. The awkward tension that hung on despite trying to change the subject to anything else. “Okay, how about this. You can ask me any three questions but that’s it and none of the answers can leave this car.” A compromise she figured they both could deal with.

-

“Yeah, no worries. Okay,” Casey says by default, because as far as she’s presently concerned, there’s plenty to be worried about at the moment. The issue is, she isn’t exactly sure why she should be concerned or what the precise source of her concern is, but she has an instinctual feeling that there is, in fact, cause for concern. Her heart, for one, hasn’t stopped beating at a slightly more elevated pace, even as Millie’s house becomes something that should be forgotten in the distance. “Thank you! It is focaccia. I saw this recipe, and the person was talking about how easy it was to make. Well, they were right! It was super easy to make. I made a test one first just in case I messed it up somehow. I didn’t want to ruin our plans with bad focaccia. Because I mean, who likes bad focaccia, right? I’d never be able to forgive myself. Then again, it’s one of those things where like bad focaccia is still good because it’s bread, and who doesn’t like bread? Though I think focaccia is the least of my worries right now,” Casey over explains herself, laughing nervously at nothing funny. Talking a lot is a curse that she was naturally gifted with, but it kicks into overdrive when she’s feeling uneasy. And it must be obvious, because now Millie’s swearing her to secrecy. Oh god. But only three questions? That’s so much pressure, and it makes her nerves worse. She has to be strategic about this. “Is there something or someone in your house?” Casey asks. Okay, good question.

Farah looks forward to any time spent with her children. Now that Leila and Malik were in college, she’s even more grateful that Casey decided to stay in Lockwood post-grad. “Don’t even start,” Farah laughs, already slinking into her seat as Casey makes her observation. Hands close around her warm coffee and she shakes her head. “The only mission I care about is finding out how your week is going,” she pivots in an all-too-classic mom way, taking a sip of her honey oat milk latte. Men and dating in general felt like a foreign concept to her these days. Between work and worrying about her kids, who had time? She’d rather focus on her family and continuing to grow the gallery than go on a bunch of pointless dates that amount to nothing. 

It’s been several years since the divorce and Farah was just fine on her own. And she didn’t want her kids to worry about her or their father. She knows how much the romantic lives of divorced parents can impact (often negatively) the happiness of children. Though her kids were no longer kids, they’re still her babies and she’ll do whatever it takes to make sure they don’t worry about her. “It was great. She was good but a bit cold, don’t you think? I felt like I was being tested on every move and I’ve been doing this longer than she’s probably been alive,” Farah laughs lightly, setting her mug down and offering it to Casey if she wants to try. “You?”

-

Casey can’t help the laugh that escapes her at her mother’s dismissal of the poor man. Even when her parents were together, she remembers seeing men’s eyes linger on her mom longer than what was required. And who could blame them? She’s stunning, and for the longest time, and maybe even now still, Casey wonders what it’s like to be regularly desired like that. The kind of woman who turns heads when she walks into a room. She’s always been in awe of women like that, helplessly and harmlessly wondering what it’s like. “I know what you’re doing, but okay. Moving on. But just so you know you’ve signed up for a very, very boring mission,” She chuckles. “I had a parent come to my homeroom class and ask if I knew how much longer it would be until the teacher got back. Hate to say that’s not the first time that’s happened. Let’s see what else. Tate and I are working on this special little project thing for my classes, so I’m really hoping the kids enjoy it,” She says with a sweeter smile as she directs her attention down to her mug. Shrugging, Casey brings her eyes back to her mom. “See? Not much excitement or action over here. How’s your week going?” 

Rocking a little in her seat, Casey bops along to the song scoring the conversations in the coffeeshop. “Wait, no. I think you’re so right. Like I couldn’t put my finger on it while we were in there, but she was giving off this vibe that there was going to be a pop quiz or something at any given moment. Like if I didn’t immediately know the name of the pose, she was going to excommunicate me from the class and like yoga as a whole. You’re a much better instructor than her anyway,” Casey says truthfully, reaching for her mom’s mug and taking a sip of the latte. Her green eyes light up, a hum of satisfaction leaving her as she returns the mug.  “That is so, so good. Mine’s okay if you wanted to try it, which doesn’t sound super inviting, but I still wanted to offer. It's a lavender latte. I thought it would be purple, honestly. That’s what I get for wanting to try something new,” She says, extending her own mug now.

tate tries to concentrate on the conversation with a customer, but his eyes remain searching the towers of books for the blond head of hair between them. even after all these years, tate’s attention is always pulled to casey and even after all these years, he makes sure to look away whenever he sees her head turn. he thinks it’s silly, like a cliche romance novel but he’s convinced his version doesn’t have a captivating ending. it’s too risky to admit the way his stomach does flips whenever he sees her, and he’s convinced that casey would never speak to him again too. he’s thankful when the customer leaves and he hears her footsteps padding towards him, and tate glances up from the register as if he hasn’t been watching her. 

“wouldn’t that make it an order if i can’t refuse? not an offer?” he teases her even though he is intrigued by her idea nonetheless. tate listens to her, leaning one hand on the other side of the desk as he does and sees her reveal the music books he ordered because they made him think of her. a smile creeps up on his face, his eyes getting lost in the sparkle of hers for a moment. “i think that sounds great.” he replies once she finishes and takes the music book off the top of the pile to flip through it. “but we’d have to practice, right? to make sure we’re like…not going to sound terrible.” he laughs and is excited that it could mean spending yet more time together. he begins scanning the pictures about different chords and melodies in the book, twisting his lips as he thinks. “maybe i could make the words rhyme?” he suggests, looking back to casey as he smiles again. “how do you come up with these ideas?”

-

Casey lives comfortably in her what ifs, and she has no tangible what if that’s bigger than Tate Stanley. He is a what if that’s always within reach, that seems possible when she thinks about it, that seems impossible when she thinks even harder. If there’s one undeniable, completely indisputable truth, it’s that he’s her person. They get each other, and isn’t that all that anybody wants? To have somebody who understands them and stays? All the good, all the bad, all of the little mundanes in between, she wants to share them all with him. Always has, even when they were both just little kids learning their way through a great, big world.  But she looks at him now, inhabited with a private awe she suspects will never go away. “You do?” Casey asks, her excitement captured in her growing smile as she watches him flip through one of the books she’d picked up. She takes a moment to rest in her gratitude, to be able to look at him and take him in while he’s briefly preoccupied. She can hear it then, the sweet hum of a melody in her ear of yet another song about him. It’s nothing earth shattering, just a few words that’s too lyrical to be just another thought. “Yes, practice is a very good idea,” She nods in agreement, and not because she’ll gladly take any and every opportunity to spend time with Tate. “Let me tell you, kids are brutally honest, and they are the toughest critics. If we suck, they will have no problem whatsoever telling us we suck. I’m also pretty certain they can smell fear, so fair warning. I’ll tell them to be nice, though,” She teases, though there is absolutely some truth behind her words. There’s nothing quite like getting your feelings desecrated by a six year old with missing baby teeth. “You’d do that?” Casey asks, her heart melting. Of course he would, but it sends her brain into a creative spiral. “What if… wait, hold on,” She says, taking a second to put her thoughts in order. “What if we still read them a book, maybe one or two, and then the grand finale is a story you write about Miss Callahan’s music class?” Her eyes light up as she explains her idea. “Or, what if we take requests from the class right then and there and come up with little songs on the spot? Or do you think that’s too much? That might be too much. Also, I don’t want to put us both on the spot like that,” She reconsiders. It would be cool, but could they actually pull it off?  “I mean, I am the greatest mind of our generation. It just sort of comes naturally, you know?” Casey shrugs as if it’s nothing before breaking into natural laughter. “Can you believe people leave me in charge of their children?” 

.

Acclimating to Lockwood Springs was a slow process. Especially after spending the last several years immersed in music and always on the move. Most of the last few weeks had been spent sleeping. Remington loved their new bed. It was definitely the one thing they missed about creating roots somewhere as well as the upper class side of living. There was something that could be said about expensive bedding and high quality beds. Even if he didn’t exactly agree where the money came from. Since catching up on the sleep they had missed for the better part of the past decade, they decided it was time to venture out into the city. First mission, a copious amount of caffeine. While he waited for his twenty four ounce iced dirty chai tea, he looked around Ambrosia Coffee. Among the scanned tables he spotted his library acquaintance from the storm shelter. She appeared to be sitting alone. He glanced back to the barista to grab his drink and when he looked over to find Casey looking back at him. A smile spread across his lips as he nodded an acknowledgement to her wave then closed the distance to her table. “Bonjour ma belle amie, fancy seeing you here.” When she mentioned her furry companion not being with her a solemn expression washed over his features. “In that case, I have to go,” Remi jokingly turned like he was going to leave. Of course he was not serious in the least bit and immediately spun back on their heel. In the same motion, they sat down in the free chair. “All I have is time. I am currently unemployed, though I don’t think my sister will let that slide too much longer.” A short chuckle followed their words. “What are you working on? Also I apologize, I’ve yet to read Twilight but I did listen to the soundtrack.”

-

Oh god, the French. She forgot he could do that. The way it sounds rolling so naturally and fluently off of his tongue. She tries not to short circuit, forcibly pressing her lips into a smile so she can’t say anything stupid in response. It’s foolproof, right? If she simply doesn’t utter a word, then she won’t say something so inexcusably awkward and make him wish their paths had never crossed paths in the library. “Oh,” Casey says, her face falling and her spirit dropping along with it when Remi turns on their heels. But then they’re facing her again, pulling the chair out to join her. He’s joking. “Oh!” She says again, laughing this time as the realization washes over her embarrassingly late. “Sorry, I – yeah,” Casey shakes her head, privately wishing her common sense didn’t go flying out of the window at the first sign of someone gorgeous. “Where’ve you been looking? Job-wise,” She scoots her things closer to her so she can make room for Remi. “I’m writing a song. Well, I’m trying to write a song, but it’s not going very well. That’s why I’m here. I hoped maybe something would – I don’t know, spark inspiration, a little change of scenery, but nope. Nothing,” Casey closes her songbook, holding it to her chest for subconscious comfort. “Oh no, no need to apologize. Twilight isn’t going anywhere. Did you like the soundtrack? It’s so good, right? Okay but also, I never got the chance to freak out that you’ve partied with Paramore,” She whispers her emphasis as if it’s their little secret. The interruption at the discovery of such cool news came in the form of the gunshot that killed one of her best friend’s uncles. “You don’t understand. I would give literally anything to meet Hayley Williams but party with her? Oh my god.”

“You live with these creaky floorboards long enough, you learn how to avoid the noisy ones,” Nora smiles softly as she picks at the sleeve of her sweater. She’s glad for the company in the aftermath of, well, everything, and is even more glad that her company is one of her best friends. “It’s okay…I’m alright. Just kinda sad. Like…it hasn’t sunk in yet?” The youngest Jones chews the inside of her cheek before sighing. “I keep wanting to call him or text him or just drop by like I used to but…” she trails off, shrugging. It’s too hard to put into words the way the sadness creeps up on her. Some days she forgets, for just a moment, that she’s supposed to be sad. But then something reminds her of her uncle’s death and she feels that grief like a stone in her pocket once more. Unmistakably there and unable to be ignored. 

“Banana bread sounds good though. Here–” she pushes back from the kitchen table and pads over to a cupboard to grab two small plates and a knife from the drawer. “How’s everyone doing? Leila and Malik still loving college?”

-

Contrary to popular belief, Casey knows how to keep quiet where it matters. She keeps her mouth shut, her hands clasped in front of her as she listens to Nora. It’s hard to imagine what her friend must be going through, holding that feeling of having to unexpectedly say goodbye without having the words or preparation to actually say it. Fortunately, Casey’s never experienced the significant loss of someone she cares deeply about. There’s the case of her biological mother, but mourning someone she has no recollection of is an entirely different experience within itself. “I’m really sorry,” Casey says sincerely, her hands moving up and resting over her heart. “Do you guys know anything yet about like who did it maybe and what not? ” 

She follows Nora into the kitchen, taking the plates and knife from her. “Yeah I think they are, but being young and away from home and surrounded by other young people away from home? I’m sure they’re having a blast. God knows I did,” She laughs a little as she cuts into the banana bread. “Some days I’m kind of like jealous honestly? Like sometimes I kind of miss college and I think maybe I should go back and get my masters, but also college is college. Yeah, it was fun, but it was so much work. Besides, I love my kiddos,” Casey smiles to herself before realizing she’s rambling again. She shakes her head, her grin shifting into something more apologetic. “Sorry. They’re good. Here,” She hands the plate to Nora and leans into the counter. “Mom’s good. Dad’s still dad, but I think he’s good. But I don’t know, everything’s just felt—“ How should she put it? “Off since the storm? I went to go see Tate’s mom the other day, and it was weird,” Casey gives a little, dismissive shrug.

.

“Okay, yep, just fine.” She nodded, pushing up a reassuring smile or at least what she hoped would work. Of course Arthur Callahan’s daughter would be stubborn about the whole thing. Normally Millie would find it endearing but when it was a matter of safety, she would not budge an inch. It was also not something she could explain in just a few words while an unpredictable time bomb could be listening in. The older woman let out a disappointed sigh but she couldn’t fault the girl from picking up on the obvious. It was wrong to hope someone would ignore the signs, which was the opposite of what any decent person would do. Casey was more than a decent person, she was a good bean just like her Tate. “Okay, okay. I’ll come with you just go wait in the car and give me a moment, alright?” She shut the door without giving the younger woman a chance to agree. Honestly having her outside waiting was probably to her benefit. There left room for a sense of urgency and her being Art’s daughter was good reason Cade wouldn’t want her coming inside. It made sense to her, anyways. It took several minutes, closer to fifteen, but eventually Millie reappeared and moved toward Casey’s car. “There we are, all set to go,” she let out a nervous laugh and glanced back to the house. “So where shall we have our little adventure tonight?”

-

Each second feels too long. It becomes clearer and abundantly clearer something is, in fact, wrong, and maybe it’s worse than Casey could really imagine. She opens her mouth to raise a louder concern, but she’s met with door slamming shut in her face. It startles her, causing her to jump slightly. Blinking a few times, she stands awkwardly, not entirely sure of what to do with herself. “Okay,” She says aloud and to no one in particular, certainly not Millie who’d left her there. Turning on her heels with uncertainty, Casey makes the little journey back to her car, maneuvering the bread and wine over, opening the driver side door with her free hand, and getting in. Locking it for good measure feels like something she should do, and she does, but she can’t help but to stare at the house, her heart beating harder in her chest. The longer the time ticks by, the more frazzled her nerves become. Maybe she should call her dad. That’s what she’ll do. Another five minutes, and if Millie isn’t outside, she’d call the sheriff directly. Just as the fifteen minute mark approaches, Casey’s thumb hovers over the contact in her phone as the front door of the Stanley home opens, revealing Millie in one piece. “Oh thank god,” She sighs her relief, dropping her phone down in the cupholder. Scrambling, she unlocks the door once the older woman approaches. Without hesitation, Casey shoves the wine and the baked bread into Millie’s lap and reverses out of the driveway. Whatever’s going on, she no longer wishes to be a part of it. “Uh,” She says, still not quite sure how to process what just happened or how to move on from it. “We can go to my place if you want? Is that okay?” She asks for clarity, not sure what is and isn’t okay right now.

Location: Ambrosia Coffee Co.

Casey offers her thanks in the form of a smile, taking the two drinks from the counter. The Saturday mornings she gets to spend with her mom are her favorites. Being back home in Lockwood Springs means being close again, which is nice, but growing up is weird. She has her own things to tend to, plans and responsibilities that sometimes take precedence over family. Not once did she ever think the day would come when she’d have to fit her own mother into her schedule, but here they are. Regardless, the time they do get to spend together makes her happy, cherishing it and letting it sustain her until they meet again. “Don’t look now,” Casey starts as she puts her mom’s drink down in front of her before sliding into her own seat. “But there’s a man over there, tall, dark, handsome, etc, etc. He’s looking at you like he’s on a mission with your name on it. And I mean, as he should, am I right?” Casey teases. Thinking of her parents with other people doesn’t come with the same sinking feeling it did when she was nineteen and the news of their divorce was still new. They’re all years into it now, and going to her mom’s house or her dad’s house stopped feeling strange. In fact, Casey holds a private hope that both of her parents find the person they’re meant to be with. She couldn’t think of two more deserving people. “Anyway, yoga was fun today. What do you think of the new instructor?” She asks, bringing her mug to her lips and taking a sip of her latte.

.

She hadn’t heard the car pull up, she hadn’t heard much of anything as she sat in the living room with Cade staring at a spot on the wall. Mildred was trying to figure out how she was going to explain the reappearance of her presumed dead husband to the people closest to her, especially her children. Their children. The sound of the doorbell made her jump to her feet almost instantly. “I got it.” She declared. It wasn’t like she could ignore it, her car was in the driveway and everyone knew that meant she was home. Millie plastered a smile on her face despite her heart sinking into her stomach when she saw it was Casey. There was no way she would let her come inside and be anywhere near Cade. Not only was it dangerous, Arthur would probably never speak to her again. “Casey, honey, hi.” She greeted through a crack in the door. “Is it a wine night, oh that looks fantastic. Um,” Millie glanced inside then back to her. “I know we normally do this over here but what about your place? Or maybe we could go out tonight or we could go borrow a room at the hotel? I um, see it’s uh, it’s a mess in here and I just uh, I can’t do it here but you pick one of those places and I can get ready and meet you there in just a few minutes?” Hopefully she could convince Cade that it was suspicious if she didn’t go. They wanted things to look normal, right?

-

Casey’s smile slips from her face, a concern rising up in her as she stands there clutching her wine and focaccia – which seems silly now. “Is everything okay?” She asks carefully, her curious eyes watching Millie speak through the crack of the door, watching the way she glances back into the house at something Casey can’t see. She blinks, rendered into an uncharacteristic silence as she tries processing what’s going on. Red flag after red flag appears, alarms sounding off in her mind following closely behind them. Something has to be wrong. She’s never seen the older woman so visibly shaken, who then proceeds to do a less than stellar job of pretending everything’s fine. After the options are listed out of where they should go instead of inside of the house, Casey’s mouth opens and then closes without a word before slowly shaking her head with uncertainty. “I’m sorry, Millie, but I feel like maybe I shouldn’t be leaving you alone right now,” She’s smart enough to keep her voice low, just in case something really is wrong.

I'm five years old, it's getting cold, I've got my big coat on I hear your laugh and look up smiling at you, I run and run Past the pumpkin patch and the tractor rides Look now, the sky is gold I hug your legs and fall asleep on the way home I don't know why all the trees change in the fall But I know you're not scared of anything at all Don't know if Snow White's house is near or far away But I know I had the best day with you today