“Nah, it was just stupid as shit. My first attempted con, you might say. I learned a valuable lesson at least—don’t drink on the job.”

“Thanks for telling me that much, anyhow . . . I can’t pretend I’m not curious if whatever we are to each other goes deeper than I was ready to admit. And if you decide you agree, I want to hear about you. And I have skeletons in my own closet that you’d deserve to know about.” She couldn’t say whose past should give the other more cause for misgiving, but she was sick of hiding. She was ready to find out, if being with this man was the prize up for grabs.

“I think I’d better head downstairs,” Casey said lightly.

Her heart went still between her ribs. “Oh. Okay.”

“Miah and his dad are still up,” he added, a little too quickly, and stood from the bed. “No need to start rumors.”

She sat up and watched as he dressed. “No, I guess not.” But she knew Casey well enough to guess that under normal circumstances, the comfort of a warm bed and the haze that followed sex would easily trump any worries about seeming improper. No, he was leaving because he needed distance, space. He was leaving because she’d spooked him. She’d told him she cared; she’d made the beginnings of demands. She’d pried, and she’d scared him away.

“If I wind up on the couch,” he said, buckling his belt, “I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

She nodded. “Sounds good.”

With a final, tight smile, he added, “Sleep well,” and shut the door behind him.

But she knew already, she’d sleep like absolute shit.

Chapter 20

Casey stirred early—just after five, the DVD player’s clock told him. He was wide awake in a breath, like he’d blinked last night and then found himself lying here on the couch, never having slept a wink.

I’m sane. The thought struck with such a bolt that he could’ve jammed his tongue in a socket. In an instant, every muscle was taught. His vision in the dark room felt more keen, each cell in his body alert. Getting the news had left him shell-shocked—vaguely pleased and relieved, but also reeling. Overnight the disbelief seemed to have burned away, and in its wake he felt alive beyond comprehension.

I’m sane.

And I think maybe I fucked everything up.

He couldn’t say how long he’d lain awake after leaving Abilene’s room last night, how long he’d stared blankly at that stuffed antelope head, worrying his lighter, feeling lost. Feeling like—no, knowing—that he’d messed things up. That what Abilene had had to offer was exactly what he wanted most, deep down, but he’d let the old Casey fuck it up, reverting to outgrown priorities when faced with something that demanded more than he was used to giving. Being with her required commitment and honesty, and trust. And it required him to come clean about how he’d spent the past three or four years of his life, and to admit, even to himself, that he wasn’t entirely proud of it.

But the second he’d left those covers, he felt it in his gut—he’d made a mistake. She’d handed him a chance to become that man he’d been wanting to be, and he’d chosen instead to be a fucking coward.

Sure, she scared him a little. So did the baby, and so did airing his dirty laundry. The entire goddamn situation terrified him, but deep down, he didn’t fear all that commitment and honesty half as badly as he craved it.

And I can have it.

The test results made those things possible, and maybe that had him scared, too. He’d spent so many years imagining he had no future, finding out he did was an unexpectedly frightening reality. Like his life was the widest, longest expanse, with too many paths, too much possibility. Way too many ways for him to fuck it all up.

He looked to the landing, to the guest bedroom door. I already did fuck it up. Two steps into a thousand-mile journey into the unknown, and he’d already made a wrong turn. His heart knew what was best for him, but his fears had led him down the coward’s path last night.

I can fix this, still. He wanted her—he couldn’t deny it. It’d mean growing up, and real fucking fast, but he’d been working on that for months already. It’d mean telling her about his past, and risk her telling him she’d been wrong, that there was no place for him in her and Mercy’s lives.

He shivered at that, pinpointing exactly why he’d run.

Because of what he’d told her, the other night. What he wanted most. To be better than he had been, and to be worthy of people’s trust and love. She had the power to grant that wish, and the power to destroy it. He’d never handed a woman such a weapon before. He stared at that door and imagined saying the words.

Be mine. It felt like a prayer. Listen to my sins, and find it in your heart to forgive them. A big ask, but their entire connection felt big. Rare. Right.

Whether he’d find the balls to say those things aloud, he couldn’t guess, and he wouldn’t be able to find out for a while yet. He had to head to the bar this morning—he’d offered to take the weekly inventory and let the contractors in for the day, so Duncan could have a morning to himself. Maybe that was best. Maybe he’d find a little courage on the ride.

He parked his bike in front of Benji’s right around six thirty, the town feeling quiet aside from the few cars on the road, their drivers surely heading to the quarry or a construction site—guys like Vince, with backbreaking jobs and large thermoses of coffee.

Casey didn’t mind a bit of dirty work, but as he unlocked the bar, he knew this was what he was built for. He might be able to do his brother’s job, if not as well, but he also knew it was a waste of his skills. He was too social. And, no offense to Vince, too smart. Vince’s power was in his body. Casey’s was between his ears, even if it might surprise some people to hear that. Working for somebody else, and at a job that provided zero mental stimulation, would turn him bitter inside six months.

He smiled at the vinyl banner strung along the awning that ran above the bar’s front door, the one telling passing carnivores that this place was going to be ready to meet their lunch and dinner needs soon. It read GRAND OPENING, EARLY SPRING, and provided the staff fell into place, they were on track to keep that promise.

He flipped the bolt closed behind himself and eyed the jukebox, considering it. Music might make taking stock a little less boring, but the silence was nice, in its own way. He liked the way his footsteps sounded on the floorboards, the random little creaks and groans of the old building as he strode to the office to fetch the inventory list. The front of the bar faced east and the morning light was nice this time of year, silvery and calming. Plus, Sunday or not, the contractors would be in soon enough, filling the place with their sanding or sawing or who knew what else, so he might as well enjoy the peace while he had it.

The workers did indeed arrive shortly, a few minutes after seven. Casey let them in the back door, then returned to his clipboard duties, tallying up every bottle and every bag of chips, every keg in the dusty basement, every lemon, every box of straws. When he next glanced at the clock, it read ten forty—ten twenty in bar time. He grabbed the laptop Duncan had bought for them to handle their accounts on from the office and set himself up at a high top before the windows, enjoying the last few rays before the sun rose to hide beyond the—

He frowned as a truck pulled into the front lot. A black truck. He slid off the stool, waiting with his hands on his hips, watching Ware park in the middle of the near empty lot, climb out, regard Casey’s bike for a moment, then aim himself at the door. Casey met him there, already wearing his sternest face. He flipped the bolt and opened the inside door as Ware tugged the screened one open. The both of them stood there for a breath, taking up roughly the same real estate on either side of the threshold.