“Good. Sit down. You want coffee? It’s almost ready.”
“Maybe in a bit. Anything I can help with, for the meeting?”
“Well, if we’ve got three on the job, we may as well cook some eggs,” Christine said. “Scrambled will do. Maybe fifteen?”
“Sure.” Abilene headed to the fridge.
“Sleep okay?” Casey asked her.
“Not terrible, actually. Thanks to being off duty.”
“She was pretty mellow.” He waited until she was right beside him, searching the cabinets for a mixing bowl, then murmured, “I need to talk to you.”
She eyed him, nervous. “Okay.” What about? About James, or about the other night? What Casey felt about what had happened, she wasn’t sure. She wasn’t even sure what she felt about it herself, yet. Only that she didn’t regret it. Not a single moment, not a single kiss.
“I’ve turned on the griddle to warm while I get dressed,” Christine said. “Don’t burn yourselves.”
“Thanks.” Casey waited until she’d disappeared to turn to Abilene. “It’s about your ex,” he said, pouring coffee into a mug.
“What about him?”
“About you considering sitting down and talking with him,” Casey went on, stirring sugar into the cup, “provided he approaches the situation like a civilized adult and not a psychopath.”
“Fat chance.”
His shoulders slumped and he shot her a look she’d never seen on that handsome face before—weary frustration. He slid the mug before her on the counter. “Honey, you’ve got to face him sometime. And the sooner the better, if you don’t want to give him any more reasons to be pissed with you. Tell me what exactly it is you’re scared of.”
“His anger.” There was more, of course. But she couldn’t say, I’m afraid of what you’ll think of me, once you hear his side of things. Neither could she say she was afraid that James might feel justified in trying to take the baby away from her—by law or by force—because there was no way she was telling Casey what kind of a person she’d been before they’d met.
She expanded on that lesser but still real fear. “He’s got a violent streak and a hot temper. We had a bumpy, volatile relationship. I never wanted him in the baby’s life. I’d have been happy to never have told him, except your brother thought that was a really dangerous idea.”
Casey nodded. “Leave the eggs a second. Sit down.”
She moved to the table with him.
“I’ve asked you before, but tell me one more time—has he ever hit you?”
She shook her head. “But he’s shaken me. And I’ve seen him get physical with other people, and the way he looked those times . . . I’ve seen that in his eyes, when he’s been angry at me, and trying hard to keep it all in. Plus I’ve never done anything this bad before—keeping him in the dark about a child. I don’t want to find out what he’s capable of.”
“I don’t much relish finding that out, either, but it’s something we do need to know. You can’t spend the rest of your life in hiding, honey. And I know you’re starting to build a life for yourself here. You’re important to the bar, and I think you like that job.”
She nodded. She made good tips at Benji’s, and she liked feeling as if she had a place in this town—even if only as a bartender—after being adrift for five years. That was a long time to go, feeling like you didn’t belong anywhere, especially to a girl who’d had a seeming idyllic small-town childhood. Fortuity might be a hundred times rougher than Bloomville, Texas, but the bar’s customers knew her name and asked after her baby. Made her feel like somebody, nearly.
“I don’t think you want the solution to be that we dream you up some fake identity and ship you off to Arkansas to start over, all alone.”
Now, that chilled her. She was already living under a false identity, already neck-deep in her first fresh start. Already living in fear that Casey might one day glance at her health insurance paperwork and realize Abilene Price was not in fact her real name, and that she might have to spill about how it was she’d come to be here with him. Tell him things she’d never even told James . . . and he’d met her during the absolute pitch-black rock bottom of her life.
“I don’t want to go away,” she said quietly. “But I don’t know if I’m ready to see him yet.”
“I kinda figured you’d say that.” Casey sighed, sipped his coffee. “So here’s the plan, okay? We sit on this issue until Ware’s turned up and made contact. Chances are, he’ll go after my brother. If he doesn’t try Vince first, it’ll be Duncan or Raina or me who encounters him, at the bar. Whatever the case, we’ll wait until he shows, and we’ll go from there. Take his temperature. See what he has to say.”
A great wave of guilt moved through her—a sour, sharp sensation that rose from her gut and flushed her face, stung her eyes. It must have shown, as Casey took her hand. “It’ll be okay.”
I’m not scared. Not just now, not for herself or the baby. Just now she felt terrible and selfish and worried that something bad might happen to whoever did see James first. That someone would get threatened or hurt if they refused to tell him where she was. Was living with that guilt truly better than living with Casey finding out her secrets?
Mustering a little bravery, a little hint of the spine she so wanted to one day possess for the sake of her daughter, she nodded. “Okay. I’ll talk to him. Once he’s made contact, like you said.” As she heard those words in her own voice, she sat up a little straighter, felt a little different, a little stronger.
“Good.” Casey gave her knuckles a rub and let her hand go. “Drink your coffee.”
She took a sip.
“It’s gonna be okay, in the end. It’s the uncertainty and the waiting that sucks, is all.”
“No kidding.”
There was a silence, and they focused on their coffees until the suspense became unbearable. She looked at him pointedly.
“What?”
“Is that it?”
“Yeah, that’s it. Were you expecting something else?”
She looked to the mug cupped in her palms. “I sort of assumed you wanted to talk about what happened. Between you and me.”
“Oh.” A canyon-deep pause. “I hadn’t planned on it. We could, though, if you want.”
Jeez, did she? “I dunno.” She wanted to know how he felt about it—she knew that much. Wanted to hear that it had meant something, anything, to him, even as she was afraid to admit the same.
“I mean, we talked some already, after it happened,” Casey said. He was acting blasé, like it hadn’t mattered, but whether that was because he regretted it or because he assumed she did, Abilene couldn’t guess. What she really wanted to hear was that it had meant something. Anything at all, even if it could never go anywhere.
Abilene wasn’t brave at the best of times, and with all the worries now rushing through her head, she had no courage to speak of. “Yeah, I guess we talked plenty already,” she agreed. “I mean, it was just a thing that happened.”
But something in her expression must have shown how much she hurt just now. He reached across the table again and touched her wrist. “It was real nice, though. It was a real nice thing that happened.”
Her heart buoyed at that. She flipped her hand over, clasped his in return. “You think?”
Another nod. “Not something we can keep doing, but I don’t regret it. Not unless you do.”
She shook her head. It was weird, talking to a guy this way. Openly, about sex or anything else. She wasn’t like Kim or Raina—women with no issues sharing their opinions and feelings with a man, talking with one like they were equals. Abilene had never been the equal of any of the men she’d been with, or hadn’t felt like she was. She did what voiceless women did—she manipulated. Through sex or tears, she could coerce a guy into not being angry with her, or into lending her money, into just about anything. It wasn’t good, but she’d gotten good at it. Way better at it than speaking her mind and articulating her needs. She’d gone unheard her entire life, after all. The concept was foreign.