Casey was alone in his new haven, and for once, he welcomed the quiet. There was no sense of loneliness — only peace. He walked through the winter garden, fingers brushing against the evergreens as the sound of running water drifted in the air — quiet, relaxing. Peaceful. After strolling through the garden, he made his way into the main living area, sorting through the record collection that had come with the place, until he found something that looked promising. A couple of moments later, and quiet music was filtering through the apartment as he continued to look around, noting all the small details. Arturo had done a wonderful job capturing his essence and putting it into his design.
One room was saved for last. One he’d barely looked into at the initial walkthrough, one he’d kept from his coterie when revealing his place. It was a small room, almost invisible, and easily missed at first. It was meant to be private. Casey hesitated briefly before turning the knob. The door swung open to reveal a modest little room, filled with photos, letters, and other keepsakes from his breathing days.
Leaving the door open so the strains of the simple lo-fi beats could filter in, he truly looked at each memory that was placed there. There were photos with his father from when he’d coached Casey when he was younger, ranging across his life. There were photos of him with his teammates, both from the QMJHL and NHL, though none were in uniform. His heart skipped a beat — or would, if he still had a beating one — when he saw the picture of Gabriel Vachon with his arm around Casey and another member of the team, smiling at the camera. The picture had been taken at a bar, and everyone was slightly drunk. Casey had considered confessing his feelings, but had chickened out. He learned not long after that Gabriel had proposed to his girlfriend that he’d kept secret from the team. It was not a painful memory, and he no longer had feelings for Gabriel.
Then he got to it, a dark blue, unassuming book, containing more intimate family photos. His sister holding his niece Élodie after she was born; the proud grandparents; Casey himself holding her when she was a little older. In the back of the album, he found drawings Élodie had made for him when he was on the road. He sat down and flipped through them, smiling as he studied each one. It had been so long since he’d seen them.
Eventually, he closed the book, a small smile playing on his face. Élodie had to be what — eight now? The smile grew as he remembered her running up to him when he’d come home after being away. She had adored him, and he was the only one she’d let call her Ellie. He hoped she was doing well. Hell, he hoped his parents and sister were also doing well. More than ever now, he wanted to see his family, despite the danger element. He just needed to see with his own eyes that they were alright.
Looking around again, he stood up, and made his way out of the room, content with the memories that teased at the edge of his heart and mind.