“Blue’s Belly was. Not Ruthie’s. The food’s good there. I love swinging by after a long day and picking up an order.” She took another sip, knowing in her gut he was going to ask about the time he saw her there with Devin.
“Are you dating the dude you were with at Ruthie’s?”
I knew it.She suppressed a smile and shook her head. “We’re just friends.”
“He seemed taken with you.”
“We’re both history buffs. That’s all.”
“I wanted to bash his face in.”
“I’m glad you didn’t. It would’ve ruined my dinner.”
He laughed and drained his whiskey. “I knew nothing was going on. You’re too much woman for a wimp like him. You need a real man.”
She popped an olive in her mouth and chewed slowly, her gaze never leaving his. “I don’t need any man in my life—real or not.”
“I wouldn’t be too sure about that.” He signaled for another round of drinks.
“Clara told me your family is from Pinewood Springs,” she said, shifting the focus.
“Yeah. We go back a few generations. Where are you from?”
“Not too far. Denver.”
“Which part?”
“The northside.” Feeling uncomfortable with the spotlight on her, she said, “So how did you get involved with the Insurgents?”
“I’ll tell you,” he said, “but I wanna know about you first. You got siblings?”
“No.”
“Are your parents still in Denver?”
Casey grabbed her martini glass the minute the waiter set it down and took a couple gulps. “I don’t have a clue where either of my parents are,” she said. “I don’t even know who my father is. My mom once told me it could be one of three men because she was screwing all three of them when she got pregnant with me.”
Rags’s face went still. “Fuck, Case.” He reached out for her hand, but she slipped it onto her lap. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be,” she said, sharp enough to cut off any sympathy. “It is what it is.”
She stared past him, past the warm glow of the overhead lights, the flicker of the candle on the table, like she could see the northside again if she looked hard enough.
“I grew up getting bounced between my grandma and my drug-addicted, alcoholic mom. When my mother was clean, sober, and not with some guy, I’d move back in with her in a low-income housing apartment on the northside of the city, east of Federal Boulevard.” Her throat tightened and she glanced out the window at the strings of white lights wrapped around the evergreens. “When she wasn’t… I’d end up back at my grandma’s.”
“And your grandma took you in?” he asked, quieter now.
“She took in all of us,” Casey said. “Her house was falling apart at the seams, and she still kept making room. She had five kids and only two could take care of themselves. The other three were a mess with drugs, alcohol, jail sentences, and going off the grid. When shit happened, my cousins landed on her doorstep.”
Rags exhaled hard, jaw flexing. “Fuck, baby.”
“You know, my grandma had her own problems,” Casey said, the words coming easier now that she’d started. “Rheumatoid arthritis, living on disability and food stamps, never having enough money. Some of my older cousins were a handful and heading down the same path their parents were on.”
“She sounds like a helluva woman,” he said.
“She was. I adored her. She was the only stable thing in my life. Staying with her was like being transported into another world.” A lump rose in her throat, and she blinked, trying to keep the tears at bay.
“Is she still living?” he asked.