“Yeah,” Miah added. “The paper said the next total solar eclipse Fortuity will see won’t come for nearly seven years.”
“Seven years is nothing at my age. But forty-two grand is—somebody wants to come and look at that ancient John Deere that’s been collecting dust in the junk barn.” He meant the biggest of all of Three C’s barns, a drooping wooden behemoth, its flaky red paint faded nearly to pink. Casey and his friends had wasted long summer afternoons poking around in there, climbing all over the disused vehicles and otherwise trying their level best to break their necks.
Don straightened triumphantly with a set of keys. “I need to make sure the engine still starts before they come by.”
Christine rolled her eyes. “You’re no fun.”
“You knew that when you married me. Right. I’m off.”
“Me, too,” she said to the room at large, setting her plate in the sink. “Got business to tackle now if I want to enjoy the natural spectacle of the universe.”
That left Casey, Miah, Abilene, and the baby. Casey couldn’t decide whether he was eager or petrified for Miah to take off and leave him and Abilene alone. There was so much he still wanted to say . . . though he doubted a word of it would do much aside from make him feel more helpless.
Perhaps for the best, the baby began to cry, and Abilene excused herself to change a wet diaper before her toast even got a chance to pop up.
Miah watched her go, then looked to Casey. To the hall. Back to Casey.
“What?”
“Something’s up with you two.”
“What makes you say so?”
“Usually she’s got stars in her eyes every time she looks your way, but just now, I don’t think she glanced at you once.” That stung. And Miah’s brain was usually too crammed full of to-dos to notice stuff like that, so the cloud in the room must not be confined solely to Casey’s head.
He shrugged. “I don’t think she slept well.”
Miah walked over with a fresh coffee and straddled the bench, facing him. “You fuck something up, Case?”
He heaved a heavy sigh. “In a way.” In another way, he’d done the right thing. Been honest. But he’d fucked up what they’d had, that was true.
“You guys didn’t . . .”
“We already had been.”
Miah looked to the ceiling as though beseeching a higher power for strength.
“Like you’re even surprised,” Casey said.
“No, maybe not. For how long?”
“Only a few days.”
“Jesus, Case—now, of all times? Must be the most chaotic week of her life. Tell me you didn’t break it off last night. Because the last thing that girl needs is another man letting her down.”
“No, no. She ended it.”
“You give her a good reason to?”
“Yeah, but not like you’re thinking. Things were at the edge of maybe getting serious. We needed to tell each other about what our lives have been like, before we both wound up in Fortuity last summer.”
“And she didn’t like what she heard?”
“No. No, she did not.”
Miah frowned, looking more sympathetic than judgmental now, at least. After a sip of coffee he asked, “What have you been up to, Case?”
“I’d rather not say.”
“Considering all the dumb-ass shit we got up to when we were kids, the fact that you don’t want to tell me isn’t a good sign.”
“Trust me—it’s better if you don’t know.”
Miah was an upstanding, law-abiding sort of man. He wouldn’t rat Casey out to the feds if he knew the truth, but Casey would no doubt lose a chunk of the man’s respect. And he had to admit, that shit mattered to him now.
“She gonna be okay?” Miah asked, getting to his feet.
“I think so. Neither of us had promised anything to the other.”