“So you’ve changed your mind? You don’t think I should talk to him?”
“Man, I don’t even know.” He rubbed his face, worked his fingers through his beard, sighed. “On paper it’s the smart way to go. But I won’t lie, honey. He scares me. It scares me to imagine setting up some talk, and him hurting you or threatening you. But keeping you hidden’s no solution either. I dunno. I need some time to digest it all.”
“Sure.” She’d never seen him so rattled, and it worried her in turn. Casey was usually the picture of laid-back, always prepared to downplay any seriousness with a joke or trash-talking. She crawled across the bed to sit close. Instinct told her to touch him, to circle a palm on his back as she might do to Mercy when the baby was upset, but she kept both hands clasped safely in her lap. “Did he say anything else?” Anything about me, about my past?
“No.”
Inside, she heaved a sigh of relief. “He’s a real nasty piece of work,” she offered. “Sorry you had to run into him.”
“Better me than you. And better for all of us that we know he’s in town, and what he wants.”
True. Not knowing had been worse, in a way. But now having him only miles from her and the baby . . .
“I’m real sorry you’re even caught up in all this,” she said.
He met her eyes squarely, the mere look rousing goose bumps. “I was about to say the same to you. Don’t you be sorry at all. I’m not sorry for a second that you’re not out there by yourself, with nobody to help you.”
That alone had tears brewing. She blinked and a fat one fell to the covers. Casey offered a smile, but he had it wrong—she wasn’t crying from fear or stress or anything bad, really. It was gratitude that had her cheeks burning and her throat tight. Relief that, just as he’d said, she wasn’t in this by herself.
She knew what had to be done. She had to talk to James. If she refused, he’d get angry enough or desperate enough to punish her, perhaps tell Casey the truth about her. Moreover, she needed to break those old habits and be brave for a change. Running and hiding had always been her default, but that had to stop—now.
“When he calls,” she said, “I’ll speak with him. Not in person—but I’ll talk on the phone.” Just having said it, she felt a little stronger, not quite as helpless.
“When he calls,” Casey echoed, “I’ll tell him you’re willing to talk. But I’ll make him call back at a specified time—no need for him to know exactly how close you and I are. Proximity-wise, I mean,” he added quickly.
She nodded.
Casey leaned closer, his shoulder bumping hers. “You okay?”
“I’m scared,” she admitted. And of so much more than you could guess.
“I won’t let him hurt you—you or Mercy. I promise you that.”
“I know.” Promise me no matter what he might say to you, you won’t turn your back on me. Far too much to ask, though, and she knew it. She stretched out on the bed, and Casey did the same. She wondered how close their hands might be, and whether the body heat she sensed was a figment or not.
Casey cleared his throat, spoke to the ceiling. “Can I ask you something that’s none of my business?”
“I guess so.”
After a pause, “How did you wind up with him, to begin with?” He turned his head to catch her eye.
Fudge. “We met during a really . . . hard period of my life. I guess I needed somebody strong, when I was feeling so weak. And I mistook violence for strength.”
“You swear to God he never hurt you?”
She shook her head, hair mussing against the pillow.
“Doesn’t have to leave a mark on the outside to count as abuse, you know.”
She bit her lip, then spoke a grain of truth. “I’ve never had the best instincts, when it comes to guys.”
“How so?”
“I guess I’m just one of those stupid girls who’s always falling for the bad boy or whatever.”