Though in this situation, with Casey having made it perfectly clear that he wasn’t available for anything serious, it was more than she could ask of him. Even if she did uncover his past—whether it was nowhere near as bad as she feared, or unspeakably awful—it didn’t matter. It wasn’t down to her to decide to make this real. He’d told her straight up, it couldn’t ever be.
And maybe that’s a blessing in itself. It wasn’t as though Abilene was eager to share her own secrets. She shivered, watching the sun sink low over the mountains.
“Let’s head back,” she said. “I’d like to help Christine with dinner.”
“Sure.” Casey eased them onto the quiet highway’s shoulder, then swung east. “Nice to get out for a change?”
“It was perfect. The most relaxed I’ve felt in weeks.”
He smiled, eyes on the road. “I can tell.” He faltered on the final word, attention dropping to his lap for a second. Abilene caught it, then—the muffled hum of a buzzing phone.
“Pull over if you need to.”
“Nah, it’s okay. Your ex has your number now, so it’s probably not him. And I’m expecting a call, but it can wait until we’re back.”
Her thoughts immediately flashed to that conversation he’d had the night they’d first messed around. If “I told you no—now fuck off” could be counted as conversation, that was.
“A call from who?” she asked.
“Duncan.” Though his answer came just a beat too late for her to believe it, she let it go. But he surprised her.
“Sorry. That was a lie. I’m not waiting on a call from Duncan. But it’s weird and personal and too much to explain just now.”
“Okay. Thanks for being honest, at least.”
He cast her a moment’s glance. “Sure. I’ve been trying to be better about that.”
“So have I.” It could be way easier to choose lies over the truth, but in the long run, looking back at how she’d handled things with James . . . The truth was scarier in the moment, but that discomfort passed quicker than the anxiety that came with going the coward’s route.
“No more lying, no more cussing,” Casey said, as they reached downtown Fortuity.
“Pretty ambitious New Year’s resolutions.”
“More like new life resolutions . . . You know, before I came home, I had it really good. Or maybe not good, but easy. I worked as much as I wanted to, spent all my money on myself, had loads of free time, virtually no obligations.”
“Sounds like heaven.”
“I thought it was.”
She looked at him. “Thought?”
“Yeah. I mean, looking back, what did I really have? Who was I, to anybody? I had casual friendships—people I’d meet for drinks a few times a week, and poker nights and shit. I had girlfriends, but no relationships that were going anyplace. I was living like a twenty-year-old. Like a spoiled one, who didn’t even have to work hard to get by. I thought I had it made. Had it all figured out, but then when I moved back, it was kind of a punch in the guts, realizing how easy it was to say good-bye.”
“To friends?”
“To friends, and my ex, my apartment, the city. Everything. It’s like that life had been one big hotel room, and all I had to do was leave my keys and check out, and it was already halfway forgotten by the time I crossed the state line.”
“And so what’s changed?”
“Commitments, I guess. Having any, and also realizing I’m capable of keeping them. Responsibilities to the bar, and Duncan. To my brother and my mom. To you, now.”
“That’s just about over, hopefully.”