Casey shifted his legs, giving her own a little breathing room; their skin was clammy now, and she turned onto her back, freeing her arms and welcoming the cool, dry air on them. He did the same, and took her hand atop the covers, in the little hammock the blanket made between their hips. He yawned, the sound long and lazy, and telling her this pleasant chat was coming to an end. Before he could nod off, she shared a little more of that truth that had for so long eluded her.
“This was really nice, just now.”
“The talking, or what came before it?”
“Both.” She hesitated before going on, unsure if it had been exceptional to him or not. What if the best sex of her life was nothing more than a typical encounter for him? He didn’t hold back the way she did, after all. Tonight had felt like a deep, dark surrender to her, whereas a man like Casey probably put everything on the table, every single time he went to bed with somebody.
Still, her cowardly days were done. She was sick of hesitating, sick of deferring, sick of holding back her opinions, for fear they were wrong or dumb.
“That was amazing,” she whispered.
She heard his head turn on the pillow, felt his eyes on her face without even needing to glance at him.
“You mean that?” he asked.
“Yeah, I do. Not just because . . . You know, because I came,” she said shyly. “I just felt really connected, I guess. It was . . . I don’t know what the word is.”
“Intense.”
She nodded again. “Very.” But more. She’d had intense sex before, and it wasn’t always a great thing. Sometimes it could feel a little scary. But tonight . . . “Intense, but kind of freeing, I guess. I don’t think I’ve ever felt like that, with a guy. Wild, maybe. Not out-of-control wild, just . . . Shit, I dunno.”
He laughed, possibly to hear her swear, or possibly at the way she was dancing around an eloquent explanation but so completely failing to pin one down.
“Electric,” he offered.
She nodded vigorously. “That’s a good word.” Maybe not precisely the one she was after, but close.
Casey sighed. “Someday, honey, I’m gonna get you alone, I swear to God. In my bed, where we can be as noisy as we want.”
She smiled at that. Their hands were clasped limply, and she threaded her fingers with his, squeezing until it nearly hurt, then letting them fall slack.
He kissed her forehead, whispered, “Turn over.”
She did, enveloped by his strong arms. Enveloped in so much, it seemed. In feelings so much deeper than she was used to, and so much deeper than she’d ever expected them to get with this man.
I’m falling for him. Falling quick, and hard, and knowing beyond a shadow of a doubt, he had no plans to fall in return. The thought should have had her nervous, had her pulling herself up short, hitting the brakes.
But hearts didn’t work that way, did they? And even if this falling could only ever lead to a painful crash, after all this time it felt too good to care.
Chapter 18
Lazy winter light woke Casey a few minutes shy of seven. Beside him, Abilene was snoring faintly, a wheezy hum of a noise he knew well now. He sat up slowly, not wanting to rouse her. Soon enough, she’d wake and no doubt be proud to realize that for the first time, Mercy had slept through a full night. Casey was proud himself, come to think of it.
Neither of them had thought to switch the light off before they’d conked out, and he sat at the edge of the bed for a time, watching Abilene’s face. Her mouth was slack, her expression a mix of angelic and drunk. She didn’t look dignified, but she looked goddamn adorable.
Last night was different, he thought, remembering it all with a warm flush. Abilene had been different. Fiercer. Needier, in that way that made a man feel a hundred feet tall.
Knock it off with that shit. Whether he was ready for something serious with her, he couldn’t say anymore. But one thing was set in stone—he had no business even fantasizing about it until he got those test results.
Saturday morning proved quiet, culminating in a late, drawn-out family breakfast around eleven, once Don and Miah had finished their morning tasks. It was a somber affair, cast in the shadows of the previous night’s drama.
“One of the hands found two shell casings this morning,” Don said. “Twenty-twos.”
“No shortage of those in Fortuity,” Casey said.
Miah nodded. “No sign of a dark truck on the roads last night, but the sheriff’s going to station patrolmen along the highway for the next few evenings.”
“That’s something,” Abilene offered.
Christine delivered a plate of toast to the center of the table and took a seat. “We’ve had more than enough excitement for one week. I won’t sleep until they catch this jerk. Oh—speaking of jerks, that rep you told me about e-mailed this morning,” she added to her husband and son. “You weren’t exaggerating when you said it was a hard sell.”
Casey tuned out as the topic shifted. He was seated next to Abilene, acutely aware of how close their legs were, and acutely aware of that awareness. He tried to blame his edginess on the stress of those looming DNA results, but some of this agitation had a distinctly pleasurable edge to it.
Ware came by that afternoon to see Abilene and the baby, and it went much like the first time, except they passed the hour in the den, not in privacy. Once he’d left and Casey had made sure Abilene was pleased with how the visit had gone, he shoved a sandwich in his face and headed out.
The sun disappeared behind the hills beside him as he drove toward the highway. Stop one this evening was the grocery store in the next town, and he hurried through the aisles with the cart. He imagined doing this with Mercy in the little seat someday. Would that be fun, or a total pain in the ass? Parenthood struck him as a muddy mix of both those things. Then he realized he’d better save such theorizing for an hour or two from now, once he knew if he had any business contemplating such a commitment. Too much to wrap his head around. Too much to hope for.
The sky was black by the time he got back to Fortuity, and he parked in front of his mom’s house and headed up the driveway with a bag of groceries under each arm.
No sign of Vince’s bike, but he passed Kim’s orange Datsun in the driveway then jogged up the steps to the side door, knocking before he barged in. “It’s just me,” he called. “I brought food.”
It was Nita who appeared from the den, not Kim. “Casey, this is a nice surprise.”
“Kim texted me a list this morning.” He set the bags on the counter and started unpacking them. “Christine offered to help Abilene so I could swing by.”
“And get a break from diaper duty, no doubt.” Nita grabbed the yogurt and cold cuts and took them to the fridge.
“I don’t mind that stuff.” Sure beat the heck out of straining at every little creak and crack in the old farmhouse, expecting imminent disaster. You’d have thought that crap would’ve ended with Ware now placated. “Where’s Vince?”
“Garage. Finishing up Abilene’s car, I think. Kim’s with him.”
“Cool. I need to take a phone call in a few minutes. Mind if I hole up in my old room?”
“Not at all. It’s still your house, too, you know.”
Maybe, Casey thought as he closed himself in his tiny childhood bedroom. But also not. It was still his single bed under the one window, still his faded Super Bowl XXXIII poster on the door. The walls were still painted bright blue, but he’d moved on. Kim had a load of her things in here now—random furniture and a bunch of photography equipment—and he welcomed the change. He had an uneasy relationship with his childhood. On the whole, it had been happy enough, he supposed, but he’d left it behind. And maybe it was the leaving it behind that he wasn’t entirely comfortable with. His dad had taken off when the stress of family life had become too much for him. Casey had taken off when the reality of his mother’s decline had become too disturbing to bear. And when he thought hard enough about that parallel, the shame burned, and deep.