Caught Unaware

Chapter 32

CHAPTER 32

HOME OF COL. JOHN CASEY

ECHO PARK, LOS ANGELES CA

Amelia couldn't help but notice the difference on the ride home. The atmosphere was thick and full of...something. She kept glancing over at John, hoping something would come to her or maybe express something that would indicate he felt it too. John, however, was silent. And not just silent because he didn't have anything to say, but it felt as though there was a lot on his mind, darkening his mood.

Amelia reached over and placed her hand on his thigh, but he didn't return the touch, didn't even glance in her direction to acknowledge her. Amelia turned and looked out the window. Trees passed by, trees that were more for decoration than for function in America's Center of Glamour and Glitz. Houses passed and when they got back to the parking lot and Casey put his baby into park, he didn't move to exit the car.

"John?" Amelia called softly to him.

No response, he kept staring straight ahead, the dark look emanating from his chiseled facial features. Did he hear her?

"John, do you--"

Casey reached over and opened his door. Just shy of slamming it shut, he walked around the front of the Crown Vic and opened the door for Amelia to step out.

"I'm confused," Amelia said as she stood her full length in front of Casey, who didn't do much more than glance at her. "John, you haven't said a word since we left the hospital. Can we, can you... Can't we just-"

"Come on, Amelia. We can't let dust build up over the seat, can we?" Casey guided her around the open door with a gentle but insistent hand on her wrist. They walked up to his door the same way except the incredulous look on Amelia's face, that was new.

Waiting until they were inside and the door was closed, Amelia took a deep, steadying breath.

He's not my boyfriend, he's not my husband...but after what we have been through together...

"I deserve an explanation," Amelia stated to Casey, whose back was turned to her as he reached up into his cupboard for a small glass. He stopped to glance over his shoulder at her, judge the expression on her cool and unyielding but dignified face, then finished getting his selected glass down onto the counter top. The silence was deafening as Casey poured himself a bit of his top-shelf whiskey into the crystalline glass.

He had just raised it to his mouth when he felt a small but soft hand on his bicep.

"John...what is going on in that head of yours? You can talk to me-"

A grunt from Casey was soft but not subtle.

"I just want to understand-"

"You can't. Which makes your prying a waste of time."

He didn't even have the decency to look at her, but the words still felt like a cold, hard slap in the face. She stepped back, removing her hand from his arm as she tried to calm her hurting heart.

"I... I think I'm going to... go change," Amelia said softly. She turned and walked toward her bedroom. Just before she walked through her doorway, the unmistakable sound of glass shattering echoed through the home. Amelia spun on her heels and flew back to the kitchen. Casey had his hands down, spread and supporting his weight as he looked down at the broken fragments and splattered whiskey dripping into the drain.

Amelia immediately ran to his side, lifting his hands from the counter top to inspect for any cuts. Casey allowed this, only for a moment before brushing her away. His heaving breath was slowed by the time she had come to him, yet he knew he hadn't regained all of his composure.