A Darkness Absolute (Casey Duncan #2)(75)

“Actually, it was for the dog. So she can settle in one place.”

Petra grins. “So he didn’t work up the nerve. He found an excuse.”

“Eric doesn’t need to work up the nerve for anything. I’m not exactly a high-maintenance girlfriend.”

“Maybe, but he’s still careful not to slam his foot on the gas and send you running for cover. I won’t say he got the puppy as an excuse to move in together, but I’m sure it was an added bonus. And the dog itself says where he’s headed.”

When I look at her, she gestures at Storm and says, “Starter baby?”

“What?”

“Right, you never did the long-term dating thing. Pet ownership is the first stop on the kid express. There’s even a scale of pets. If it’s a fish, it’s a very tentative commitment. Dogs, though, are all the way. Toilet training, teething, playtime, lessons, day care. Eric is on the baby train, full speed ahead.”

I stare at her.

“Oh, I’m kidding,” she says. “Well, exaggerating anyway. It just means he’s serious. Really, really serious. Which is a good thing, right? Unless I really misinterpreted, you’re not looking for a winter fling.”

“No, of course not. I just…” I look at her. “Is he telling me he expects kids?”

“No, no. Damn, I’m sorry. I was being flip, and I’ve totally freaked you out. I have no idea whether Eric wants children or not. A puppy just means is that he’s committed enough that you guys need to have that conversation—soon. The two biggest things that break up a relationship? Differing financial styles and differing views on kids. Up here, finances are not an issue. Differing views on kids isn’t a deal breaker, but it’s something you need to discuss before things get more serious or you end up with him saying Let’s start a family, and you saying, What family? Been there, done that. It wasn’t good.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Like I said, there was more wrong to my marriage than differing views on children. We just made the mistake of not sorting that out, and assuming we knew what the other wanted, and then staying together because of the kid.”

“You—you have—”

“Had,” she says. “Past tense. Yeah, really didn’t mean to go there. Sorry. Anyway, back to you and Eric. Just know that the puppy means he’s serious, and if he’s serious, then it’s time to open those lines of communication on everything, including children.”

*

It’s night. Storm is upstairs, sound asleep after an hour-long snow-play session to guarantee puppy exhaustion and an hour of peace and quiet. Well, relative peace and quiet. Fortunately, we’ve done a good enough job with the playtime plan that any noise coming from downstairs hasn’t woken her. Now we’re stretched out on the bearskin rug as the fire casts dancing shadows around the dark room.

I prop up on my elbows. “Are you as tired as you look?”

He opens one eye. “Depends on the purpose of the question. Am I too tired to drag my ass upstairs to bed? Yep. Am I too tired to prolong the evening’s entertainment? Nope. Just give me a few minutes. And possibly a beer.”

I head into the kitchen. When I return with two beers, he says, “Can’t believe that actually worked.”

“If it’s ultimately to my advantage, I’m happy to oblige.”

I settle in cross-legged beside him. “While you’re recuperating, do you have enough energy to talk?”

“Always.”

“It’s about…” I look toward the steps. “The puppy. And moving in together.”

The smile falls from his face. “Okay…”

“Nothing bad. I just wanted to discuss—”

Someone bangs on the front door. A double-fisted pounding. “Eric? Casey? It’s Kenny.”

“Hold on,” Dalton calls.

The door flies open. Kenny rushes in … with a good sightline to where we’re scrambling for clothing. Dalton blocks me and snarls, “I said hold on.”

Kenny spins around. “Sorry, sorry. It’s Val. She woke up to someone in her bedroom.”

“What?” I say as I yank on my jeans.

Kenny starts to turn, saying, “She—” and then remembers why he’s facing the door, his memory goosed by a fresh snarl from Dalton.

“It’s fine,” I say as I yank on my shirt. “I’m decent enough. Just tell me what’s going on.”

He half turns, facing the wall instead. “Val woke up and started screaming. Paul was passing on patrol. He raced in. Val was hysterical.” He glances at me. “I’m not supposed to use that word, right?”

“It works here. Just keep going.” I’m at the front door now, yanking on my boots, and Dalton’s handing me my parka.

“Val said there was a man in her room. She said it was”—he looks at Dalton—“Eric.”

“What?” Dalton says.

“Obviously it wasn’t you. It happened five minutes ago, and…” He gestures toward the blankets in front of the fire. “So I don’t know what’s going on, but she’s demanding to see Casey. And not…”

“Not Eric,” I say.

“She’s made a mistake. Paul thought he saw the guy in the forest, though. He’d have gone after him, but with the way Val was screaming, he thought she was hurt.”