“She screamed herself hoarse while I was out with all the workers, waiting for the fire to die down. I don’t think she’ll be waking up anytime too soon.”
He heaved a loaded breath, slipped his hand under his open hoodie and rubbed at his chest. “I’m trying real hard to not work myself up about how close the two of you were to all that. How wrong it could’ve gone.” As he said it, his voice broke. Any fleeting worry she’d had about the fire having been anything to do with Casey evaporated in that instant.
She wanted to be close to him. Wanted his arms around her body and his soft voice in her ear, telling her it was going to be okay. Comforting lies, something to believe in while the entire world seemed to be coming apart around them.
But if she felt lost now, surely she’d only lose further track of her heart, if she let herself get too close. Clarity was in short supply at the moment, and never more so than when she tried to make sense of how she felt about this man. She pictured the necklace now hiding beneath her pillow, and that knot in her chest eased, though the tangle was as big a mess as ever.
“I need to talk to my brother,” Casey said, “but I wanted to check how you were doing.”
“Thanks. Do you think I should go downstairs? To try to help, somehow?”
He considered it. “Knowing Miah, he’ll be out of there the second he finds a decent excuse, looking for shit to tackle so he doesn’t get to think too hard about it all. But Christine could probably use the company. She’d been saying something about making coffee, for all the officials who’re taking statements and waiting for the investigation to get under way. I bet she could use some help with that.”
Abilene nodded. She’d bring Mercy down in the car seat and pray the baby kept on napping as long as possible. It was going to be a long day, and she had a terrible feeling that the answers they were all waiting on weren’t going to be good.
Chapter 25
Casey went downstairs with Abilene and the baby, the three of them joining the periphery of the scene in the kitchen. Vince, Miah, and Christine were seated at one end of the long table, talking quietly. Christine’s expression was calm, but her eyes were red and her hands shaky. Miah had a hand on her back, circling slowly, thoughtlessly, as the three traded empty consolations and theories about how Don could be anyplace—way out at the other end of the range, maybe, or who knew where. But Casey had seen the man’s truck in the front lot, as had they all, he bet. These weren’t words of comfort, merely words that gave the Churches permission to live in denial a little longer.
Casey kept quiet, standing by with his arms crossed, and Abilene set the baby in her rocker while she went to load dishes in the washer, her motions careful and quiet, respectful. Fragile.
Casey felt much the same. Felt too many things, and none of them good. Yesterday he’d felt remorse about his old life, because it had cost him what he’d found with Abilene. Less than a day later those sour feelings had turned downright poisonous. He felt as though he were standing on the other side of his own selfish choices. Standing in the kitchen that might’ve belonged to the family of some firefighter, maybe, had one of his arson jobs ever gone tragically wrong. The thought alone had his throat raw and his eyes hurting. He swallowed the feelings down. They had no place beside Miah and Christine’s grief.
The phone had barely quit ringing since Casey had arrived, and when it trilled yet again, Christine stood with a weary sigh. “I can’t ignore it forever, I suppose.”
Miah got to his feet. “Let me.”