Burn It Up

“You think I’d try to fuck all that up for you?” James asked.

“Maybe I did. I mean, I saw how you can get, with folks who crossed you.” He didn’t just hold grudges—he went after people. He hurt people. She didn’t think he enjoyed it, necessarily, but he could go there, and coldly. Easily. Like it was just part of the gig.

“You’re not some shitbag who stiffed me on business. You’re the mother of my child . . . Or at least that’s what I’ve heard.”

“She’s yours,” Abilene said in a small voice. “It could have only been you.”

“I’m choosing to believe that. But it was fucked-up, you keeping me in the dark all this time. It was cruel, and it was selfish.”

“I know. But I was scared. I had no idea how you’d react, what you’d do. And I doubted you’d want a child, especially with me, so I told myself it was a kindness, to not bother you about it. Plus I was sick of relying on men all the time. I thought it’d be easier, just dealing with it on my own.”

“What changed your mind?”

“Vince said he had to tell you.”

“And you would’ve just let me go on with my life, never knowing about it, if he hadn’t?”

“Maybe.”

“That’s pretty fucking cold. You think that little of me, that I’d tell you to go fuck yourself, go and deal with our mistake, all on our own?”

“She’s not a mistake,” Abilene cut in sharply, her spine snapping smartly into place. Beat her down all you liked, but don’t bring her baby into it.

“Fine—our little miscalculation. You think I’d just be like, ‘Fuck you, bitch. Not my problem’?”

“I wanted to deal with it on my own. I had a job and a place to stay. I wanted to leave all that ugly stuff behind me and make something better for her.”

“You heaping me in with all the ugly stuff?”

“You knew the old me. I didn’t want that following me.” No witnesses, no judgment.

“Guess maybe you fucked up, then, telling Vince Grossier.”

“I didn’t know what else to do. I didn’t know anybody, only his name, and that he lived in Fortuity.” James had called her when he’d been arrested and told her to find Vince if she ever needed a favor. Like an olive branch he’d held out after the way things ended, she’d thought in hindsight. “I had no choice. I had to see a doctor once I knew, and I needed money.”

He sighed through the line. Abilene rubbed her foot; the thing felt like ice.

“I’m trying to make this right now,” she said, firmly and without apology. It wasn’t a voice he’d be used to hearing from her—the time they’d spent together had been typified by an erratic mix of honey and venom. But this was the new Abilene, ready or not. “What do you need to say, or to hear?”

“That you’re safe and the kid’s safe. Where’s your head been at? You been tempted to use at all?”

“No. Not for a minute. Not even coffee until after she was born. I have it good now. Not much money, but my bosses treat me well.” Back when she’d gotten caught up in the drugs, she’d had nothing in her life. No true friends, no job, nothing worth waking up for. Now she had more than plenty.

“Where you staying?”

Like you don’t know. “With friends. But I’ll find a new place soon. Just for me and the baby.”

“What’s her name?”

“Mercy.”

A pause. “That’s nice. What’s her last name?”

“I didn’t have much choice but to give her mine. My real one.”

Another pause. “You never did tell me your real name.”

No, she hadn’t. Only that the one she used was fake. “I will soon. When you meet her, maybe.”

“When’ll that be?”

“Soon,” she repeated, brooking no argument.

“You in Fortuity?” he asked.

Seeing as how he knew precisely where she was, it seemed pointless to lie. “Yeah.” Why did you run? she wanted to ask. How did you find me at the ranch? But things felt like they’d taken a civil turn, and she didn’t want to spark a fight.

Cara McKenna's books