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.