Burn It Up

by Cara McKenna

  She studied his face, unsure. “You mean like . . .” You mean what? That you’d run him out of town? That you’d kill him? Casey’s shady reputation notwithstanding, she couldn’t imagine him going there. Vince? Maybe. Just maybe. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean if it comes down to your safety or the baby’s safety . . .” He shrugged, leaving her upended. Spending the night with him had been heaven, but this conversation was a stark reminder that this man who treated her so well was still far from a saint. She needed to keep that reality at the forefront of her mind, to combat the weakness of her body and her heart.

  Unless James went psycho—which wasn’t beyond possibility, if he’d stooped to stalking her—he didn’t deserve a beat down. What he deserved, in fact, was answers. She steeled herself, trusting that everything would be better once she’d talked to him.

  It was only too bad that the anticipation was such a bitch.

  • • •

  Abilene looked up as Casey squeezed her foot. They were sitting on the couch, her lying down, trying to breathe deep, and him sitting at one end with the dozy baby propped on his lap. She could hear Miah and his father talking in the ranch’s office down the hall, two matching, distant baritones, and also the drone of the radio in the kitchen, where Christine was puttering.

  “Almost time,” Casey said. He was acting calm, though he had his silver lighter in one hand and was turning it around and around.

  Abilene eyed the clock, heart thumping hard and quick. Five minutes to nine.

  Casey shifted the baby’s weight and dug in his pocket, handed her his phone. It was a chunky old thing, branded with the logo of a pay-as-you-go carrier. He had a smartphone, too, and she wondered anew why he needed both.

  Bet I don’t want to know.

  “I think I’ll—” She jumped as the thing buzzed in her hand, breath leaving her in a whoosh. “I’ll go upstairs,” she finished, and hurried out of the den. She ran up the steps, huffing and shaky as she hit TALK on the third ring and managed to say, “Hello?”

  “Abilene?” That familiar voice, deep and cool and hard, like an echo from a grave.

  “Yeah. Hang on.” She slipped inside her room and shut the door. Once she was cross-legged on the bed, she said, “Okay.”

  There was a pause before he replied, the noise of a word nearly being spoken, then not. A long breath hissed through the line. “Well.”

  “I’m ready to talk.” She hugged her middle with her free arm. Her back ached and she was shaking like she’d drunk ten coffees.

  “Good. It’s about goddamn time. What the fuck have you been playing me for, shutting me out? I find out from Vince Grossier that you’re even pregnant to begin with; then you won’t even do me the courtesy of a visit? Or a fucking phone call?”

  “I know. But I was scared, after the way we ended things.”

  “Scared of what?”

  “That you’d be mad.”

  “That I’d hurt you?”

  “Maybe.”

  “If I was cold enough to hurt you, I’d have been cold enough to leave your ass exactly where I found it, now, wouldn’t I?”

  “I was scared of more than just that. I was scared you’d have wanted me to get rid of it. Or that once she was born you might try to take her away, because of . . . because of how I was. When we met.”

  “It crossed my mind, don’t doubt it. But, sweetheart, you really think an ex-con stands a chance at getting custody of his kid?”

  Sweetheart. She’d gotten so used to hearing a different man call her honey, that word sounded obscene coming from this one.

  “I don’t know,” she admitted. If some social worker investigated her past, they wouldn’t be impressed, and they’d also discover she was employed under a fake name, that she’d had no permanent address in six years, that she’d been a teenage runaway. Ex-con was bad, but was she really any less problematic, on paper?

  “So why have you been hiding?” he asked.

  “I have it real good now. Not perfect, but I have a job I like. Friends I like.”

  “Friends who don’t know the real you?” James supplied, reading between the lines.

  “I might not have all my crap together,” she said, “but I’m working on it. And there’s a lot I could lose, if you decided to tell people how I was, when you met me.” Raina might’ve looked the other way about her lying to get her job at Benji’s, but Duncan wasn’t half as lax about legalities. As for Casey . . . She couldn’t bear to have him find out who she really was.

  “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.

  “What’s she look like?” James asked.

  “She’s real pretty. Blue eyes, more like yours than mine. She was a couple weeks early, so she’s on the small side, but catching up quick.”

  “Tell me when I can see her.”

  “I need to talk to Casey and everyone, but maybe tomorrow.”

  “Why do you need to talk to them? And who’s everyone?”

  “Him and Vince, and some friends of theirs. Some friends of mine,” she hazarded. “And they’re protective. Nobody knew what to expect from you—including Vince, and he was the one who broke the news. You wouldn’t tell him what your intentions were when you wanted to find me. And you were angry, he said.”

  “Because it was none of his goddamn business. I shouldn’t have to explain myself to him.”

  “That’s fair. But they’ll want to be around, to make sure it goes okay. Leave me your number, and I’ll talk to the people whose place I’m staying at and figure out a time. Okay? I’ll call you tomorrow by noon at the latest.”

  “Fine.”

  She found a notebook and pen and wrote down his number. “Talk to you tomorrow.”

  “Hope to God you do,” he said. “Good night.”

  “Night.”

  She stared at the phone until he ended the call and the screen went dark, then hauled her shaky butt off the bed and went downstairs.

  • • •

  Casey was on the couch, foot jittering a million miles a minute.

  Across from him, Miah sat in an old rocker with the baby asleep on his lap. “Keep that up and your ankle’s gonna catch fire.”

  “I—” Casey’s head jerked up at the click of a doorknob overhead and he watched as Abilene emerged from the guest room. She smiled down at them as she headed for the stairs.

  What did that smile mean? Relief? Maybe. Though with Abilene, a smile could just as easily precede her bursting into tears, so he wasn’t banking on it. He stood and grabbed his beer off the coffee table, just for something to do with his hands.

  She headed for the baby first, leaning down to touch her in some way Casey couldn’t see.

  “So?” he prompted, dying of impatience.

  “You want me to take her?” she asked Miah.

  “Nah, she’s settled now,” he said. “You two need to talk in private?”

  She nodded and turned to Casey. “My room?”

  He was already striding for the steps.

  “Holler if she starts fussing,” Abilene called back.

  “Will do.” Miah clicked on the TV, the drone of the news offering a little extra discretion as Casey and Abilene entered her room. Casey sat on the edge of the bed, clenching his hands so tight between his knees his knuckles went white.

  She shut the door and turned to him, pulling his cell from her hoodie’s pocket. “Thanks.”

  “Sure.” He took it. “So what happened? How’d it go?”

  “Could you hear anything?”

  “Only that you were talking, not yelling.”

  She sat cross-legged at the end of the bed. Casey turned and did the same so he could face her.

  “Tell me.”

  “He was angry. Frustrated.”

  “What’d he say to you?”

  “That he wants to see her. Both of us. That I owe him that.”

  “He scare you?”

  She took a moment to reply, staring thoughtfully at his feet. “Yes and no. I don’t think he wants to hurt us. And I don’t think he wants to try to take the baby away from me. He’s mad, but mostly because I kept so much from him. He’s an in-charge kind of guy, and I don’t think he handles feeling helpless very well.”

  “Clearly not, if he came around here last night. What’d he have to say about that?”

  “I didn’t ask. I almost did, but by then he seemed way less angry, and I thought maybe it was best to keep him that way. Keep him talking.”

  Casey nodded. “I’m dying to know who told him where to find you.” Perhaps he could make that information a condition of a face-to-face meeting. Casey still needed to have a little chat with John Dancer, and maybe a second, depending on whether the person who’d spilled about Abilene’s location had done it for a payoff, or simply to keep all their bones unbroken.

  “Miah’s gonna have words for your ex,” he said, thinking aloud. “Fuck with his property and his business, and that charming cowboy shtick falls away real fast. Maybe I’ll leave that to him, and you and I can just focus on establishing some kind of civil discourse, or whatever, with Ware.”

  “I told him I’d see him. That I’d call him tomorrow to arrange a time, after I checked with the Churches.”

  His heart kicked back into third gear. “You sure you’re ready?”

  “I’m sick of hiding—I know that much. I’m sick of being afraid of him, and the unknown. And I want to be able to go back to work soon, get back to normal.”

  He nodded. “Course you do. Tomorrow, huh?”

  “For the call, maybe the meeting, too. It’s up to Miah and his folks, ultimately, if James is going to meet me here.”

  “And you’re going to let him see the baby?”

  “If it goes well, I said. If he keeps his cool.”

  “And you’re sure you’re ready?”

  “Yeah.” She curled up on her side, hair falling over the edge of the bed. “I’m ready.”

  “I’ll stay close, and we’ll make sure either Vince or Miah can be here, too.”

  “You going to eavesdrop?” she asked, something cagey in her expression.

  Casey shook his head. “I’ll stay close enough to hear if you call for us. We’ll probably need to pat him down and hold his car keys, too. Hope he can handle the prisoner treatment.”

  “He’s had enough practice,” she muttered.

  Casey sighed, sensing her weariness and registering it in his own bones. He lay down, too, body curled the opposite way as hers, so they were face-to-face, upside down. A small silent laugh hitched her shoulders, a gesture of exhaustion, not amusement.

  “It’s going to be okay.”

  “I hope so.”

  He reached up to take her hand, their fingers twining. “It’s a shame he couldn’t have explained himself to Vince, saved us all the trouble of putting you in lockdown.”

  “We were . . . We’ve got an intense history. He’s mad about more than he must be comfortable sharing with anyone but me.”

  Casey nodded, ignoring the way his stomach soured.

  In nearly no time, he’d grown possessive of this girl, and hearing her say those words—history, intense—made his insides squirm in a way he wasn’t used to. His relationships had all been so frivolous, he’d rarely gotten close enough to a girlfriend to feel jealous this way. He’d been in love, or thought he had been. He’d said those words to a couple women over the years, and meant them. But could it really have been that deep, when he’d barely registered a fraction of this sting before, and when it had always been so easy to move on, once the fun faded and the expectations began to weigh him down?

  By all accounts, Abilene should have him running for the hills. She was dependent, to say nothing of her child. She was a train wreck in ways he couldn’t entirely pinpoint, and her baggage was big enough to cram an ex-con into. Whatever else was in there, he was afraid to know. And he didn’t need to know. They weren’t a couple, wouldn’t ever be; plus nobody was a c
ompletely open book. There were always a couple pages glued to the cover. Always a few unknowns.

  He chanced one last squeeze of her fingers before letting them go. “I’m real proud of you for talking to him.”

  She shrugged. “I’m real ashamed of how scared I was. How much worry I put everybody through, avoiding it for so long.”

  “You did your best in a fucked-up situation.”

  “Doesn’t feel like I did.”

  “Honey, if you could see all the shitty decisions I’ve made in my life, or Vince, or Raina . . . Anybody except Miah, basically. You’d think we were all the biggest dumb-asses you ever met. Fucking things up is just part of life. The best you can hope for is that you get most of it done before you hit thirty.”

  “I have a child, though.”

  “Well, fine. Thirty or parenthood, whichever comes first.”

  And even thirty was pushing it—Casey hadn’t begun to clean up his act until last summer, after all, and how old had Vince been the last time he’d been put away? Thirty-two, probably.

  Way out of left field, Abilene whispered, “Do you believe in God?”

  He shook his head against the covers. “No. You do, though.”

  “Yeah. I used to wear a cross, even. Constantly. In the shower, to bed, all the time. It was silver, on a silver chain. I lost it last winter, right around the time some things started going extra-wrong.”

  He smiled. “You think God was punishing you, for losing it?”

  “No, more like maybe somebody upstairs decided I didn’t deserve to wear it anymore.”

  “Now, that’s just nonsense.”

  “It’s how I feel . . . I think I’d like to start going to church again. Not a church like I grew up in, but something, I dunno, low-key.”

  “There’s a Unitarian place downtown. Aren’t they supposed to be pretty liberal?”

  “Maybe I’ll check it out. I don’t think I’ve gone more than a dozen times since I left home. It used to be such a huge part of my life . . .” She trailed off, eyes unfocused, thoughts folded up deep inside. After a minute or more she said, “I think I might like to get another one. A cross, I mean. Save up a little money.”

  “Like a reminder to keep your shit together, when you look in the mirror?”