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  Copyright © 2015 by Briana Gaitan

  Lyrics from “Ginger” used with permission by Josh O’brien.

  First Edition, 2015

  This is a work of fiction.

  All characters appearing in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons living or dead are purely coincidental. This book identifies product names and services known to be trademarks, registered trademarks, or service marks of their respective holders. They are used throughout this book in an editorial fashion only.

  For My mom, for teaching how to love reading.

  Thank you for picking up Just Caspian!

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  Other books by Briana Gaitan

  The Last Thing

  The One Thing

  Bash

  Maria

  Ethereal Underground Trilogy

  “I’m not a rock star. I’m just a guy. Just Caspian.” -Caspian

  I put the car in park and roll down the window so I can get a better look at the dirt road looming ahead of us.

  “All the way down there?” I ask, quite certain we’re lost. The lonesome road looks to stretch on for miles, fading into the horizon as the sun peeks over the Rocky Mountains. New Mexico is pleasantly warm, but the terrain is brown and boring. I make a few more mental comparisons to LA before rolling the window back up. This trip is long overdue, and it should be under better circumstances, but it’s not.

  Caspian sits up from his reclined seat, rubs his red eyes, and looks around.

  “Yeah, it’s a few miles down.” His voice is rough as if he’s been screaming all night. “Keep going. It’s the only house for miles. Can’t miss it.”

  I tap my nails along the steering wheel for a moment before pulling onto the road. It’s the type of road that people use to hide dead bodies or grow pot. The type that leads to nowhere except someone’s extreme privacy. Is this what people mean when they say ‘living off the grid?’ How do they get delivery all the way out here? What if they get a pizza craving in the middle of the night?

  We’ve been driving in silence for hours, and Caspian is teetering on the edge of something dark. I can tell from the way his knee bounces up and down and how he keeps rubbing his hand on his jeans. He’s a bundle of nerves, but not the excited kind. Every once in a while, he’ll run his hands down his face and let out a horrible groan, as if he were trying to wake up from a nightmare. Sad thing is, this is the worst kind of nightmare. The cold sweat kind that keeps your heart beating for hours after it’s over. I try to empathize with what he’s feeling, but I’ve never had to go through something like this before. I’m too afraid I’ll say the wrong thing, but mostly afraid of saying nothing. I don’t want to be the kind of girlfriend that can’t make him feel better. Best thing I can do is put on my par acting skills and be here for him.

  He perks up as a large adobe style home appears in the distance. His nervous twitches get even worse and for a moment I’m afraid the car will topple over from all his fidgeting. I’m glad we’re here though. I ran out of coffee a few hours ago, and I’m not used to pulling all-nighters. A girl needs her beauty sleep, know what I mean?

  As the car stops, I reach out to push his blond hair off his forehead. He rewards me with his signature goofy grin, the only grin I’ve seen from him since the call came. The call that made us drop everything and make the twelve-hour drive from our house in LA to his parents’ place just outside of Albuquerque. When he realizes what he’s doing, the smile fades, and with the loss of that momentary smile, my heart sinks further into my chest.

  “Thank you, Deena. Thank you for coming with me.”

  He’s the only one who calls me by my given name. To the rest of the world, I am Ginger. Ginger Teague, soap opera actress and most recently, movie star. He kisses the back of my hand before taking a deep breath and opening the car door. I do the same, trying to stay calm. Now that I’ve had a moment to appreciate New Mexico, it’s actually kind of breathtaking. Picturesque in a way. Fresh air and a clear sky. There’s only one downside, the place is kind of dusty, but the house is so distracting I hardly notice the lack of greenery. It’s huge. I mean, huge in a way that you’d expect a billionaire to live here. One would never expect this to be the home of a dentist and a simple schoolteacher. Business must be good.

  It could be a southwestern castle with its vista architecture and large stone walls, but it has a modest homey feel to it, just like Caspian’s whole family.

  We reach the entrance, and like a man on a mission, Caspian throws the front doors open. Without missing a beat, he falls into his father’s waiting arms as his mother looks on. The scene is heartbreaking and humbling. All I can do is stand back and let them have their moment.

  “Pops,” he mumbles into the older man’s shoulder. This should be a touching moment. Father and son reunited after so long, but the somberness of it all only cause tears to form in the corner of my eyes.

  The impromptu family reunion continues as Caspian’s other brothers enter to greet him. First Peter then Ed take their turn embracing him. All the brothers are named after Pearl’s favorite books The Chronicles of Narnia. Finally his mother, Pearl, looking exhausted, wipes her hands on her apron and gathers him into her arms. I shift uncomfortably regretting all the coffee I’d consumed on the road. What should be a beautiful reunion is marred by the absence of Tirian, the oldest Norwood brother that I’ll never get to meet.

  Pearl holds her hand out and motions for me to join in on the family group hug. I give her a tight smile and move closer. My family was never the touchy feely kind, so their embracing takes some getting used to. I’ve only met them a few times, but they’ve never excluded me. Right now, I want to be excluded. It feels wrong to share in their mourning. I know that sounds selfish, and maybe I am, but I didn’t know Tirian. I wish I had, he sounded like a wonderful man. Nonetheless, in our few short months together, I never got the pleasure. Tirian always missed family holidays and vacations because of work obligations.

  “Take care of my baby boy. Take care of him,” she whispers into my ear. “He’s going to take this harder than the rest.”

  She’s right. Caspian is the most sensitive out of all his brothers. Edmund is the hopeless romantic and a dentist like his father while Peter is the fatherly one. To me, anyway. Caspian? Caspian feels too much or too little. There is no in between for him. This will be one of the cases where he’ll feel too much and be overwhelmed by the velocity of it all. I excuse myself to the bathroom so they can have their family time. You know, discuss personal matters and cry.

  When I’m finished relieving myself, I find everyone gathered in the kitchen around a large round oak table.

  “How did it happen?” Caspian asks as I sit down next to him.

  “This all feels so unreal. He just got back from another trip,” James’ voice cracks, and he pauses for a moment to remove his wire spectacles and wipe the tears from his eyes, the same crystal blue orbs that all the Norwood brothers share. I only knew the facts about Tirian. He was a pro bono doctor. Highly respected. He and his family moved from place to place to provide health care to those in need. They’d lived all over the world. From the far reaches of Africa to an orphanage in Mexico.

  “He and Alyne went shopping for Ryker’s birthda
y. Some guy at the mall began shooting. We don’t know all the details, and we don’t know why. Dozens were injured. Tirian was shot —” James trails off, and Pearl begins stacking waffles on everyone’s plates. My eyes wander over to the marble countertops that are filled with pastries, cakes, and croissants. It’s clear that Pearls been busying herself in the kitchen to take her mind off the loss of her son.

  James inhales deeply before speaking again. “He died instantly. Alyne is in the hospital. Gunshot to the chest. We’re not sure if she’s—if she’s gonna make it.”

  “Why are we here and not at the hospital?” Caspian tries to get up, but his father puts a hand on his shoulder, sitting him back down.

  Pearl sniffles into her apron. “Well, apparently in-laws aren’t considered family so we can’t be in her room. We were in the waiting room most of the night, but someone has to take care of Bella. I don’t think she quite understands what’s going on. ”

  Caspian nods as he struggles to calm down. “Where is my little Bella-bee anyway? I want to see her.”

  “Still asleep.”

  “And the man who shot Tirian?”

  “Dead. The police gunned him down.”

  Caspian’s face changes expressions a few times. It’s hard to read him, but I think he was hoping that the gunman being dead would ease his pain, but it doesn’t seem to be working.

  With somber faces, everyone moves to hold hands. The reason why goes over my head, and for a moment I think we’re all going to sing a song. Caspian is a musician, after all. Maybe this is where his love of music came from.

  “We’re saying grace,” Caspian whispers as he takes my hand in his.

  I’ve never said grace before, especially not holding anyone’s hand. Even though I grew up in the Bible belt, my family wasn’t very religious. We were more of the holiday Catholics. Christmas, Easter, confirmations, baby christenings. You know, the events where my father thought alcohol might be served. Caspian had warned me his father was pretty into the God thing, which is surprising because Caspian isn’t spiritual at all.

  I follow their lead and take Peter’s hand in my other. I bow my head, same as them.

  “Dear Heavenly Father, please give us the strength to get through this terrible day. Help us to remember that everything happens for a reason, and that Tirian is in a better place. Please—” He’s silent for several more seconds, and we wait for the rest of his prayer that never comes. Eventually, he mutters amen.

  The rest of breakfast goes by in a blur. I’m tired, nervous, and eager to get some sleep. I’ve spent the past week working on different gigs. Promotions and special appearances while Caspian stays at home, producing and writing songs for different friends. Though Caspian and I have been together for five months, being around his family is new to me.

  After we eat, Pearl won’t let us help clean up. Instead, she insists we get some rest. Caspian leads me down a long hall towards my room. Caspian will be staying in his old room next door.

  “Don’t they know we live together?” I hiss when I realize the sleeping arrangement.

  “My parents are a bit old fashioned.”

  He sets our bags on the ground and pulls a few blankets from the antique wardrobe in the corner.

  “Hello? It’s like a million degrees outside. I don’t want a blanket. Why are you ignoring me? Talk to me.” I grab onto his shirt as he walks past me preparing the room. He pushes me off and straightens out the collar.

  “Not now, Ginger. I need to get some sleep. I’ll be in the next room.”

  I make one last attempt to get him to look at me. “Why are you shutting me out? Let me help you. Please?”

  He pauses, head down, shoulders slumped. Before I know what’s happening, he’s in my arms. I squeeze him as the sobs flow from his body. I have to keep from letting my own fall.

  “My big brother,” he cries. Normally, I’d wince at the fact that his tears are staining a four-hundred dollar blouse, but not today. Today I’d gladly donate any piece of my wardrobe to catch his tears and ease his pain. He’s the man who saved me. He always saw the good in me. He saved me from heading down a bad path. When my life revolved around parties and being selfish and reckless, he showed me there was more to life.

  I want to be here for him, but I’m not good at this type of stuff. Disappointed in myself, I bite my bottom lip and try to think of the best way to comfort him. What can I say? The words don’t come easily, so eventually I settle on the easy way out.

  “I’m so sorry, Cas. I’m not sure what to say.”

  He takes a deep breath and pulls himself together. “Nothing. You need to sleep. You’ve been driving all night.”

  My eyelids are heavy, but I still have a few remaining spurts of caffeine running through my veins that would prevent me from falling asleep right away. I gave up so much this weekend to be here for him, but now that the time has come, I don’t feel like he’s leaning on me. I don’t feel like I’m the best person for him to lean on. People bond over life experiences. He and I bonded over our struggles with the bottle. No one I’ve ever cared for has died. I just don’t know what to do to help.

  “Cas? Are you okay?”

  He looks at me like I’ve just asked the stupidest question in the world. “Okay? Okay is a term used to describe something average. An okay day or an okay movie. I might say, ‘she looks okay’ or ‘the food is okay.’ I could never describe the way I feel as okay. I am not okay. I’m not sure I’ll ever be okay.”

  “Okay, I mean, all right.”

  He squeezes my hand before leaving the room.

  I grab my pajamas and head to the bathroom to wash up. When I’m finished, I climb into the huge bed and lay down. The room is decorated plainly, but everything is still exquisite. From the carved crosses on the wooden doors to the stained glass window, I’m afraid to touch anything. That’s okay, I don’t need to touch anything, I need to sleep and after tossing and turning for a long time, I’m there.

  “You inspired me again, helped me to see the passion in love and life. You got my blood pumping and shook my life up a bit. Not only that, I see myself reflected in you somehow. You need me just as much as I need you for inspiration.” -Caspian

  Every piece of clothing I own is completely out of season. I throw a pair of red heels behind me and continue digging through the piles of shoes on my closet floor.

  “Babe, have you seen my tan Gucci sandals?” I could have sworn I saw them just last week. If my closet weren’t such a huge mess, I’d probably find them with no problem.

  I poke my head out from behind the mirror doors and stare at Caspian, who is immersed in a video game. He’s ignoring me. A usual when the Xbox is on. I snap my fingers a few times.

  “Uh, Babe? Gucci? Sandals?”

  He pulls off one of his headphones and looks at the growing mess behind me. “I don’t know what a Gucci is, but there are like a million pairs of shoes behind you. Wear one of those.”

  Sounds of gunfight and yelling start back up. He’s playing with his friends, and I hate to interrupt, but this is an emergency. And not just any emergency. A fashion emergency.

  I stand up and finish stuffing my suitcase with all the important necessities. Dress for premiere, suits for interviews, and a good book for the downtime. Because that’s what I do now. I read a book. I don’t go out and party. I continue talking to Caspian as I try desperately to zip the bag up.

  “This isn’t just any premiere. This is the Sundance Film Festival. This is the premiere of my first film. This is the crème de la crème of independent film festivals. This is my dream. This is—”

  “Alright, Ginger. I get it. Two Gucci shoes, on the double.” He stands up, turns off the game, and stretches his hands over his head so that the smallest amount of skin peeks out under the bottom of his shirt. He runs his hands through his dirty blonde hair. It’s amazing that a guy so nice would want to be with me. Me, of all people. I don’t deserve him. I can’t pry my eyes off every inch of him as he sorts t
hrough my monster of a closet. It’s the sexiest thing a guy could ever do. Helping me without complaining, but he knows how important this trip is to me. It’s bad enough that he has to miss it due to a recording deadline.

  “You’re meeting me in Nashville on Monday, right?” I move to my vanity and take out my diamond studs followed by my makeup.

  “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.” He gives me a goofy grin before going back to his searching.

  Next week is our one-year anniversary. Not the anniversary of when we began dating because that was only months ago, but the anniversary of when we first met on the streets of Nashville. I was on my way to an audition, and he was outside smoking before a sound check. It began as a flirtatious friendship but developed into something more. It sounds silly to celebrate both dates, but that place will always hold a special place in each of our hearts.

  “The paparazzi were sneaking around outside of the house again when I came home. So don’t forget to be careful when you’re out on the balcony. Do you— ”

  “Ah, ha.” He holds up two brown high-heeled sandals and presents them to me. “Are these the shoes you want to wear?”

  I give a slight squeal before grabbing them and throwing my arms around him. “Thank you, thank you, and thank you. These are gonna look perfect with my new white dress.”

  “You owe me one.” He gives me a devilish smirk and grabs the shoes from my hand. They fly through the air before landing on the floor beside my bags. “And seeing that we will be apart for the next four days, I really think I should cash in that favor.”

  “Oh, really now?” I press my body up to his, making him back up until he hits the wall.

  “Let’s waste some time.”

  Wasting time, it’s an inside joke of ours. We don’t waste time for the hell of it, we waste time together. Him and I. He grabs my chin, and we lock eyes. He’s beautiful, irresistible, and finally mine. After wasting my whole life dating scumbag jerks, I now have something even better. A great guy.