Page 14 of Skin Game
“You spent years doing everything for Mickie. It’s hard to give that up.” Gabe figured a lot of what Casey was currently feeling had to do with his almost primal need to protect those he considered his people. His family.
“Don’t I know it.”
“But Mickie needs to figure out his life on his own. You know that?”
“Yeah, I guess.”
Gabe had gone along with Casey to collect Mickie when the older Lundin had been released from prison. He’d been mildly surprised when Casey had accepted his offer, but his acceptance had backed up Gabe and Elton’s theory that Casey didn’t know what to do with Mickie now that there were no bars or plexiglass between them. A theory that was being confirmed over and over.
It still boggled Gabe’s mind that the Powers That Be had just sort of pushed Mickie Lundin out the gate, no offer of transportation or even decent bus service. Just opened the doors, watched him walk out, and locked the gate up behind him. Again, Casey had been the one there for his brother. Their parents hadn’t even bothered to show up. What the fuck was with that? Casey and Gabe had been the only people waiting in that desolate parking lot.
“Oh, hey.” Gabe pointed to the side of the road. “The coffee stand is open. Let’s stop.”
“I’ve literally never met anyone else who enjoys coffee as much as you do.”
“Except Elton, and you say that like it’s a character flaw,” Gabe pointed out. “This place has great pastries too. They get them from one of the bakeries in Westfort.”
“Only you, Gabriel Karne, Charming Fucker himself, would have chatted up a barista for intel on the baked goods,” Casey said. “How do you manage it?”
“Pastries are important. Life is meant to be enjoyed.”
Casey grunted and veered off the road to where Watershed Espresso was doing brisk business. The Shed’s owners had tapped in on the local need for caffeine—and baked goods—between Heartstone and the canal. Or Westfort, depending on which way a person was driving.
“I counted once, and there’re at least fifteen roadside espresso stands between here and the ferry.”
“Bet you missed one or two.”
“Shall we bet on it? Closest to the correct number buys coffee for a week?”
“Nope, I’m not taking that bet.”
“Coward,” Gabe said with a laugh.
They were lucky, just third in the line, more cars arriving while they waited. Eventually, the barista handed over two twenty-ounce Americanos, a glazed lavender-lemon tea cake for Gabe, and a toasted bagel for Casey.
“Are you ready to get going now?” Casey asked, pulling back onto the road.
Apparently, he’d clued in to Gabe’s delaying tactics.
“You have a blob of cream cheese on your nose,” Gabe said, popping a bit of the cake into his mouth.
“I do not.” But Casey swiped at his nose anyway.
“Made ya look.”
“Asshole.”
“Yes, but I’m your?—”
“Don’t say it,” Casey ordered.
Smirking, Gabe took a bite of his lavender cake and groaned long and loud—several times. “God, these cakes are delicious. I should have gotten two of them.”
Gabe glanced at Casey, who was shaking his head at him. But a half smile curved his lips as he focused on the road. Yeah, he’d do a lot to make Casey happy, even pull out a Meg Ryan impression. A rather good one, if he had to say so himself.
SEVEN
GABE – TUESDAY: SEATTLE