when ethan’s best friend, keith told him he had a important job for him, he didn’t think it would entail babysitting someone. yet, that is basically what a bodyguard does right? if anyone tells him that, he will happily correct. despite thinking that same thing. anyways, if they were not under contract with the hospital, he wouldn’t be in charge of protecting a psychiatrist, olivia. most of his last clients involved celebrities, governors families, etc. he confide this job a step down from that. but maybe normalcy has been missing from his day to day life. now, granted, he didn’t believe this client, olivia was bad news. he just never expected to be protecting her while his military buddy was protecting her client, senator carver. yet, he tried not to be bitter about this job. after all, he is lucky that his friend offer him a position in his military security company. right now, he is standing outside her office door, waiting for further instruction. due to privacy issues, he isn’t allowed in her office during her sessions. it seem like hours past before she came into her office. “time for lunch break yeah?” he ask, glancing at his watch before watching her client come out the office. “and before you ask, yes, miss daniels gave me your agenda.” he crosses his arms over his chest, adding, “any more surprise clients like before?” he remember last week that a unexpected client caused a rise out of some of the staff. gladly, everyone handled that situation in a professional manner.
The only social media Eli uses is Instagram, his followers ranging from people in Frostford to people who met or followed him in college to fellow basketball players he still keeps in contact with. After joining the NBA, Eli made his account private after finding out about his daughter. He isn’t terribly active on it, only posting once every few months nowadays.
Now and then Ron and Moni Kray are tugged to their wits end by their dear son Jim’s abject DISDAIN for sleep. Luckily though the solution lives with them. Enter Olivia, with her blanket and her book. Twenty minutes it takes, at a maximum, and he’s out, after days, like a light.
cass & olivia kingston ; sunday, january the 27rd. 11:40 AM.
tw: past and current verbal/emotional abuse
The first time Cassidy Kay Kingston II set eyes on Olivia Charlotte Dean, the first thing he wonders is where she came from, because it hadn’t been from here. He knew Wilmington inside and out, nearly every moment of his twenty five years being spent here, and he knew the townsfolk, their families, their daughters. She couldn’t have been one of them. Because if she had, C.K. would’ve tried to make his move long ago. He spotted her for the first time while at the grocers, Stetson in his hands while he waits to pick up the ham his mother wants for supper, and he sees her. Strawberry blonde hair, the deep blue eyes of an angel, and a smile that quite frankly made his head stop. Little pearl earrings catch the artificial light from above them as she stands on her tiptoes to accept the slice of strawberry shortcake from the baker, and C.K. is momentarily mesmerized by the swing of her light green skirt. Turning around, he kind of stares aimlessly at the glass in front of him, lunchmeat not processing to blue-green eyes as the mental image of that skirt flirts through his mind, taking a few moments before his stupidity hits him like a shock of lightning as he bolts towards the door.
“Excuse me! Excuse me, miss!”
A wrinkle of a creamy brow, and the mystery girl turns, one hand on her car door as she had been preparing to leave. He makes a bit of a sight, scuffed up button down with a kerchief around his neck, cowboy hat being murdered as he crumples it in his hands, dirty blonde hair with a slight cowlick and a smudge of dirt on his cheek. He's handsome, sure, but not traditionally so, and it's not the smile lines by his eyes that makes her keep pausing. It's the slow draw of a crooked smile, and the words he lets drop his country boy accent as casual as you please. “I'm sorry for stopping you, but…” he shakes his head, and the wattage in that smile slides up just a tick. “I couldn't let the prettiest thing I'd ever laid my eyes on just up ‘n walk away.”
Months of courtship and a pearl and diamond engagement ring later, and twenty year old former secretary from Virginia has become a wife. Not only a wife, but Olivia Kingston, steadily adjusting to a new world wherein walking out the front door of her home normally greeted her with sweaty men and plentiful horses. Fast forward four years, and she's cradling a baby given to her by the man who'd stopped her, a boy who carried his same name. Crystalline blues blink up at her, downy blond hair on his small head, and Olivia coos at the person who already held her whole heart, rocking him in the same chair his grandmother had rocked his father. “I'm going to love you always, sweet boy.” She whispers to him, thinking there could be nothing more beautiful than he, this child she had made and would try to fill his life with joy. “You can always, always count on me.”
Cut to now, Cass and his mother taking a walk on one of the trails in the woods that framed his house on three sides. There was no snow today, but a cold rain had fallen the night before, the thin layers of ice crunching underneath their boots. Olivia, Hudson's leash in her gloved hands, having been talking to her son for ten minutes or so so far, discussing the plans she has for a new menu once the seasons change once more. That's one area of the business Cass tends to stay out of, leaving it to his very competent and qualified head chef and his only a bit less skilled in the kitchen Momma, especially after her strawberry lemonade recipe was a smash hit and helped put the as then fledgling B & B on the map. Today, however, Cass isn't much interested in what successes they've had in the past adding a specific amount of cinnamon to their French toast recipe. What he wants to do is ask his mother is something he's wanted to know since the time his father grilled him mercilessly at the table because he'd started on his chores late after going to football tryouts. What he'd wanted to know since he'd stopped depending on his mom having his back when it was against his father. It was an uncomfortable conversation to have with a loved one, especially so close on the heels of the catastrophic one he’d had with Amy barely three days before, but it was one he’d already been avoiding for years.
Pushing the past the feelings of dread that wrapped their uncomfortable fingers around his throat every time he'd imagined this semi confrontation, Cass clears his throat, hands stuffed deep in the pockets of the vest atop his fleece lined jean jacket. “Momma, I need to talk to you about something.”
The furrow in Olivia's brow that her son inherited makes an appearance at what he says, pulling a wayward strand of strawberry blonde hair behind her ear. Smile lines crinkle as she frowns, touching his arm. “Cassidy, honey, what's wrong.”
“What's wrong,” her son begins, subtly moving his arm, forcing his steps to keep going and not lose his nerve. “Is Dad. And how I need to distance myself from him. And why...why you weren't there for me. Then. Now.” Cass's hands curl into themselves, hidden by the puffy fabric of the vest he wore, and he isn't sure his lips are cold because of the temperature or because of the words he's trying to push out of them.
“What do you mean? There's nothing you can't ask me for Cassidy; you're my son. I would do anything -”
“Yeah. Anything. Anything but protect me from Dad.”
Olivia falls silent for a moment, Hudson's overly loud sniffing as he inspects a place to pee stopping their progress, causing them to halt. “I know your Dad is hard on you. But he really does love you and want the best.”
“Does he, Momma?” The thirty two year old man's voice is rusty and short, hard on his throat. “Does he though? Did he want what was best for me when he made sure Greer and Bailey knew how much they were loved and cared for and couldn’t do anything wrong? And if I looked in the wrong direction when he was talking to me, I’d get a lecture that lasted for hours and made me feel like a piece of shit. No fourteen year old should feel like a piece of shit, Momma.”
On some level, Olivia had known that the relationship between her husband and her son wasn’t exactly the best. For the few years, maybe there had been the kind of relationship she always dreamed of for them, but when the girls rolled around she noticed a difference. Showering attention on the other two, C.K. treating Cass more seriously and differently. When he got older, and C.K.’s attention shifted to the next generation leading the ranch, Olivia had mostly left it up to the two of them. Bonding time, she thought. Sure, she noticed over the years that Cass hated being alone with C.K. Spent as much time out of the house as he could if he wasn’t working, thin lips and blue eyes that forcibly cleared of pain when they locked on her own. Their moments had been private, private and devastating in a way she wasn’t aware of. Devastating in a way that she was only hearing now.
“In the beginning, it wasn’t too bad. He’d praise me for getting a full day of work done, for making the football team. And then it seemed to be few and between, the kind words. The spaces between them were killed with nasty ones that made me feel like the lowest of the low. I couldn’t do anything to please him, Momma. Couldn’t then, absolutely can’t now. Not when I committed the gross sin of leaving. I wasn’t going to come back, Momma. Not at all. Not when he was what I was coming back to.”
“Cassidy, sweetie - “
“Actually, can you wait until I’m done?” Cass interrupts, shooting blue eyes sidelong to her. He might not be walking to a noose but every moment spent talking about this seemed to tighten around his neck, a suffocating hand of years of hurt and frustration bubbling up and anxious to escape. This isn’t a safe space the same way that Ashley’s office is, and Cass isn’t sure how to operate in it. To reveal the dark truths hiding in his Momma’s house, but then again - hadn’t she been the one to turn a blind eye? Hadn’t she been only a passive ally? It was only after the accident that she started helping him keep distance between he and his father, that dark spectre that had tainted so many things in Cass’s life. Including, it seemed, his relationship with his mother.
“On my sixteenth birthday, he gave me shit for not showing up to work that night. My friends threw me a surprise party at one of their houses, and I thought he’d be fine. He liked that I was popular, after all. A good face for the family.” The bearded man laughs, but it’s not the full and golden one he usually lets out. This one is scratchy and raw from past pains and incredulity of the sheer lack of humanity C.K. had shown him for much of his life. Something Cass would never, ever do to a loved one, much less a kid. Another pang, a reminder of the fight he was struggling through with Amy, and the thirty two year old fights the urge to grab at his heart. It wasn’t going to ease the hurt. “When I got home, you made me a cake. He didn’t sing me Happy Birthday with you and Greer and Bailey - and when everyone else went to sleep, he came to my room and told me how ashamed he was to have a son who rang in such an ‘important’ age with irresponsibility.”
They’ve given up on walking at this point. Hudson, let off the leash, eats snow and bounds around about them until the stress radiating from his owner reaches the point that even the dog feels it and tries to make his owner feel better. Stories spill from Cass, ugly ones with poisonous words and memories that still whip his spirit. The lectures of the way he wasn’t, couldn’t ever measure up. References to him in front of others designed to tear him down piece by piece. At every turn, Cass was a disappointment. A blight to his father and his name. How no matter how long he worked at the ranch, he was still the traitor who’d left the business behind. How C.K. refused to acknowledge any good that Cass did, anything that went wrong automatically was his fault. How scared he would be when bringing home a C, how many nights he stayed up wondering if his father was right. The incidents that he only recognized now, mostly on the other side of it, as anxiety attacks when C.K. was on the warpath. As he continued to talk, Olivia’s hands slowly seem to rise, covering her mouth. Horror is reflected back at him from his mother, horror and a deep seated sense of inadequacy; for all that C.K. had been a bad parent with all the bells and whistles, even if Olivia couldn’t quite believe all of it, she had failed in her protection of him. “I’m sorry.” Is all she manages to get out, whispered at intervals, soft with regret.
“Momma, he’s literally told me the only things he has to be proud of are Greer, Bailey, and the ranch. When Amy came over for dinner, he couldn’t stop talking about how I’d tricked her into being there. How I had to be holding something over her, or she wouldn’t be there. Because who would want to date his failure of a son, huh Momma?” Winter still has its grips on the landscape, inhabiting the seat sized rocks they’d managed to find on the trails, seeping through Cass’s jeans and yet not the cause of the shake in the broad mans voice. Cass was 220 lbs, almost 80% completely muscle, and six three, carrying an imposing figure that few wanted to mess with. Talking about his father, he seemed frailer, weaker, genuine belief in what had been drilled into his head for over thirty years almost making him try and fit into the descriptive terms C.K. assigned to him so many times. “All I’ve ever heard from Dad for years has been that I’m weak. Stupid. Useless. Incapable of doing easy things the right way, and always a step away from disaster. He’s always right. I’m always wrong. I’m not an iota of the man he is, to hear him say it. And do you know what’s the worst thing? It’s that I know I’m not. At the very least. I don’t use my words to hurt people. To make them feel like horse shit on someones shoe is probably of more use than you. But he’s poisoned me, Momma, and I hate it. He’s targeted me so many times that sometimes, my thoughts turn to aiming at others the same way. I just had a fight with Amy - and no, I don’t want to talk about it - and I said horrible things to her. I knew what to say, how it was going to hurt, where she was vulnerable. I don’t want to know where my girlfriend is vulnerable, Momma. If I do, I should only learn so I can figure out how to protect it. Not use it against her.”
A touch, Olivia’s hand on his knee, and Cass looks up at her with eyes that he’d deny to his grave were stinging, shaking his head, not done. “When he discovered that the other ranch hands actually liked me, that working wasn’t as bad with them, he made it a point to give me solitary assignments if I’d pissed him off. He reminds me every moment that the ranch is not mine, that it was his name first that goes on it and all its successes are his, all its failures are mine. If I lost a football game, he’d give me the silent treatment for a week. He’d only talk when at the dinner table, because you and the girls were there. He made jokes about erectile dysfunction when my friends were over. I learned how to stop bringing people that weren’t my forewarned girlfriends over the house so my dad would stop trying to sabotage my friendships. Do you know how long it took me to realize that other kids dads weren’t like that? Too long. I doubted everything. Dad made me believe I was just being overly sensitive, that he was just trying to push me to accomplish more. To reach my full potential. I should’ve known I’d never be enough. I won’t ever be, not for him.” A harsh truth, but one that Cass had come far enough to be able to say. Even if in his core, the root of him, longs for one sign of his father being proud of everything. Despite of everything. Because of everything. Hope, that hardest bastard to kill. His eyes give up the ghost, let tears slip down ruddy cheeks and disappear into a full beard, sparkes of shine in the gold. Hudson’s head is heavy in his lap, big brown eyes concerned whilst Cass’s shaking hands stroke his dogs forehead, gaze dropped as it had been for most of his unloading. Olivia, having long since started crying, just keeps rubbing his leg and nodding her head.
“For years I thought I was selfish for wanting his love, when he only seemed to have enough for my sisters and not for me. This ranch - this damned ranch, this thing that I love, this place that I call home and work and that I pour my existence into to make it work, the B & B that was my brainchild and my greatest pride - it’s a miracle that I’ve gotten to this place. Crazy that I feel about it the way I do. Because for years, I know it’s meant more to my father than my own life. I’m so angry about it, Momma. I’m angry, and I’m hurt, and I hate being around him, and you have to let me cut him off. You have to.” Olivia’s arm curls around his shoulders, shushes falling from lips that kissed him on the forehead more times that he could count, and Cass holds on, even as he chokes out the last words, a show of stark vulnerability he could only show with his mom. “You didn’t protect me then. But dammit, Momma. You’ve gotta do it now. You’ve got to…”
Sure, Ashley’s prompting in therapy had been a big push to getting him there. The recent blow up he’d had with C.K., Olivia absent as always, when he laid into him for the burned barn, disparaging words about being too distracted by his relationship to do his job properly, of blaming him for hiring pyromaniac workers, and more that Cass is sure he would’ve had if he hadn’t found the strength to book it out of there, that probably helped. Whatever the final push, this was long overdue. How his mom would react to it, only time would tell, but he’d said his truth. Laid out how she’d done him wrong, and explained how. She’d apologized. And she’d probably keep doing it, even now when his tears get absorbed by her scarf and she rocks back and forth with the two of them, a woman half his size who’d been tasked with protecting her son and who had failed. Time would tell where the revelation would take them.
mouse was on the couch, leaning against the arm, entertaining her daughter while her son was sitting at the coffee table, eating goldfish. she let out a small giggle as her daughter belly laughed when she was held in the air. “you’re so cute,” she said, kissing the baby’s nose before looking over to the coffee table when she heard ethan smack the table. “hey. stop crushing them up and eat them or i’m gonna put ‘em away, don’t make a mess,” she said. “i’m not makin’ a mess, i’m just crushing it cause it tried to bite me,” ethan replied, making mouse roll her eyes. “smart ass,” she muttered.
It was happening. William’s worst fear was happening for a second time. Only this time, on a much larger scale. The virus he had helped create, the one that had killed his wife and son, was now taking over the greater part of the city. Thousands of people were now being locked inside a massive quarantine, and there was a state of panic as they weren’t given an explanation as to why. People were already in the hospital locked in isolation, they were already sick and rapidly dying, and there wasn’t anything he could do. He was doing his best to try to calm everyone currently in the hospital, as well as handing out masks and gloves to everyone he could see, and warning not to touch each other. He was pacing the floor, on the phone with his old boss, the one that had been overseeing the creation of the virus, his tone getting louder and louder as he spoke. “I don’t know what you expect me to do, I’m only one person!” He snapped, pinching the bridge of his nose. He had gotten away from all of this stuff for a reason, and now he was thrown right back in. He looked up to see a couple of people approaching, one of them seeming hurt. That didn’t alarm him as much as the two touching did, though. “Hey - don’t touch her her!” He yelled at the girl that wasn’t hurt, immediately hanging up the call he was on and gesturing in a hurry for her to step away. He thrust a mask and a pair of gloves at her, grabbing the injured girl gently by the arm - his own body well covered and protected - and leading her into a nearby isolation room. Sitting her on the bed, he checked over her injuries quickly to make sure nothing was a sign of the of the virus, before sending in one of the nurses stuck in the hospital with him to tend to her. He found the girl that had brought her in back out in the hallway, and pointed into another room. “You have to be quarantined. 48 hours. Don’t argue with me,” he instructed, her voice stern. He wasn’t taking any chances with this virus, he was going to get it as under control as he possibly could, and that meant quarantining anyone who may have come into contact with it, even if it didn’t appear so at first glance.
