Burn It Up(63)

“No more lying, no more cussing,” Casey said, as they reached downtown Fortuity.

“Pretty ambitious New Year’s resolutions.”

“More like new life resolutions . . . You know, before I came home, I had it really good. Or maybe not good, but easy. I worked as much as I wanted to, spent all my money on myself, had loads of free time, virtually no obligations.”

“Sounds like heaven.”

“I thought it was.”

She looked at him. “Thought?”

“Yeah. I mean, looking back, what did I really have? Who was I, to anybody? I had casual friendships—people I’d meet for drinks a few times a week, and poker nights and shit. I had girlfriends, but no relationships that were going anyplace. I was living like a twenty-year-old. Like a spoiled one, who didn’t even have to work hard to get by. I thought I had it made. Had it all figured out, but then when I moved back, it was kind of a punch in the guts, realizing how easy it was to say good-bye.”

“To friends?”

“To friends, and my ex, my apartment, the city. Everything. It’s like that life had been one big hotel room, and all I had to do was leave my keys and check out, and it was already halfway forgotten by the time I crossed the state line.”

“And so what’s changed?”

“Commitments, I guess. Having any, and also realizing I’m capable of keeping them. Responsibilities to the bar, and Duncan. To my brother and my mom. To you, now.”

“That’s just about over, hopefully.”

He answered after a pause, voice softer, a touch nervous. “I hope you don’t think I’m just going to back away, now that things with your ex are getting ironed out.” He glanced at her.

“I dunno. But you’ve put your life on hold for us this past week, and even before that, you helped out way more than you could probably afford to, time-wise.” She shrugged. The entire conversation had her feeling upended, if pleasantly. She’d never heard him talk this way—so candidly, about such personal things, and for the second time that day. Something had changed last night, with the sex. She’d felt it herself, and now she could tell it was true for Casey, as well. She worked hard to hide the confusing, warm glow it left her feeling. “I wouldn’t blame you at all if we went back to mostly seeing each other at the bar,” she said. “You have a new life, like you said. You can’t spend all your time trying to help me get mine in order.”

“I like helping you,” he said with another, more nervous glance. “I like that you rely on me.” He nearly mumbled it, then added, “I’m not used to people relying on me. It’s how I should have been for my mom, when I was younger, but I was too scared. And it’s still scary, but it feels good, too. I don’t know that I’d trade it for anything I had in my old life, when I think about it.”

“Not even a few hours’ sleep?” she teased. Between the bar and his family and her and Mercy, it seemed a wonder he ever got a chance to shower or feed himself. “I bet you’re working harder than Miah, these days. New mothers’ hours, practically.”

“I’ll sleep in a week or two, once you and your ex have some kind of routine in place, and he goes a nice long time not f*cking anything up.”

She let the swear pass. “I’ll sleep better myself, then.”

The lights of the ranch appeared in the darkening distance. Before them, the first stars peppered the horizon; in the side mirror, the sun had fallen below the tip of the western peaks, painting the sky deep aqua and indigo. She was sad for this ride to end, but eager for the warmth and smells of the kitchen. For the fireplace, later, and for whatever might happen at bedtime. Whatever might happen in her bed, with Casey.

He was glancing at his phone the second he’d slammed his door, and she told him to go ahead and deal with it. Don and Christine were both around, and she felt infinitely safer now, two conversations into her revised relationship with James. She fed the baby, then joined Christine in getting dinner organized. It’d be an hour or more before they actually sat down and ate, and she joined the elder Churches in watching the evening news.

Dinner was pleasant, though Miah was missing, still out finishing his workday. He didn’t turn up until late, after his parents had retired upstairs. Abilene and Casey and the snoozing baby were cluttering up the couch in the den, the TV on low.

“Hey. Just me,” Miah called after the front door clicked shut.

Abilene returned the greeting as loudly as she dared.

Casey sat up straight, looking bleary, like he’d nodded off.

“Miah’s back,” she told him.

“Oh. Good.” He got to his feet with a groan, sounding beat. “Now he’s here, I could stand a change of clothes.” With James now in the picture and seeming harmless enough, Casey probably didn’t need to stick as close to her as he did, but she wasn’t complaining. She missed his nearness when he grabbed his duffel and headed for the bathroom.

She looked to the clock on the mantel as Miah appeared in the den. “Wow, it’s after eleven. That was one long workday.” And he was up by five most mornings. “I hope you get to sleep in tomorrow.”

“I don’t even know what that means.” He gave the baby’s head a soft sweep of his fingertips, then sank onto the love seat and propped his socked feet on the thick wooden slab of a coffee table. “And I finished work around seven, actually. I swung by the bar, after. Just for a beer. Where’s Case?”