I'm not sure what woke me, but instinct had me reaching for my Ruger. Next, I glanced at the digital clock on the nightstand. If my eyes are seeing correctly, it's two-fifteen in the morning. What the hell?

Did I have another nightmare? Is that what pulled me out of my sleep? For a moment, I sat still, searching my memory for any remnants of a nightmare. Nothing came to mind.

Still, the uneasy feeling remained. I know having Casey in my apartment has my senses heightened. So, maybe I'm imagining things? Maybe there's really nothing wrong after all.

I returned my weapon to its place on the nightstand and started to roll over. That's when the distinct sound of someone moving around my living room caught my attention. Logic told me it was only Casey and nothing to worry about. Logic also told me that there's no place in the city more secure than this building. Neither of those facts mattered.

On the offhand chance it wasn't anything more than Casey moving around the apartment, I took a moment to throw on a pair of pajama pants. The last thing she'd need right now would be to see me naked.

Then I grabbed my Ruger again and headed for the living room. Just in case logic was wrong this time.

I opened my bedroom door to the sound of sniffling and stopped in my tracks. Deep down I knew it was Casey, but hearing the evidence of her crying pierced my chest like an arrow. Not wanting to upset her any more than she already was, I turned and set my gun on top of the tall dresser next to the door. Slowly, I stepped out of my bedroom and made my way down the short hallway. "Casey?"

She jerked at the sound of my voice, then turned toward me. "Lester!" The shock in her voice carried with it a feeling of guilt. What in the world did she have to feel guilty about?

In the darkness of the room, I couldn't read her expression. I'd bet anything her eyes were red and her creamy skin was tear streaked.

Needing to see her face, I crossed to the kitchen and turned on the light above the sink. It bathed the living room in a soft glow that wouldn't blind her. When I turned back to look at her, I found the evidence on her face I knew would be there. Quickly, I crossed to where she sat on the couch, holding a tissue in her hand. "Precious, what's wrong?"

She shook her head as she lifted the tissue to her nose.

No way am I going to let her brush this off with a head shake. If I don't know the problem, then I can't fix whatever is upsetting her. "Sweetheart. You're sitting in the living room crying in the dark at two in the morning. Obviously, something upset you."

"I'm sorry I woke you," she replied, once again evading my question.

I eased down next to her. "I'm not."

She turned her head to look at me with a confused expression on her face. "Not what?"

"Not sorry you woke me," I replied. "If you're hurting, then so am I. So, why don't you tell me what's bothering you? That way I can fix it."

She cracked a small sad smile as she stared at me. "You can't fix it, Lester."

"You never know." In an attempt to lighten the mood, I shot her one of my famous smiles. "I'm pretty good at accomplishing the impossible."

She shook her head again. "It's nothing really. I just had a nightmare."

My smile faded with her admission. Damn. After everything she's been through, I should have anticipated the possibility of her having nightmares. "A nightmare isn't nothing, sweetheart. Do you get them often?"

She nodded. "Almost always. Not that I sleep that much anyway, but when I do, it's never for long. I usually wake with one."

No wonder she'd appeared so exhausted back at the bridge. I'd been in situations where I hadn't slept for days. Then, when I finally did, the nightmares would infiltrate my slumber. So, I knew what she was going through. "Do you want me to call Bobby? He can give you something to help you sleep."

She shook her head. "Please don't. It's bad enough that I woke you. I don't want to wake him too."

Knowing how skittish she still is, I slowly slid my hand under hers and gave it a gentle squeeze. "You need to sleep too."

Much to my surprise, she shifted to lean against me. "Please don't call Bobby."

I didn't bother to hide my sigh. "Okay, I won't call Bobby, but I want you to tell me about your nightmare."

She turned her face against my shoulder and shook her head. "I don't want to."

"Doctor Cochran says that talking through your nightmares helps to take away their power. I know from experience it works."

She shifted again, in a way that allowed me to wrap an arm around her. Then I pulled her against me as I leaned back to get comfortable. "Talk to me, Precious."

For a moment, I didn't think she was going to tell me. Then much to my surprise, she took a deep breath and began to speak.

"I wanted to bake some cookies and realized I was out of vanilla extract. So, I'd gone up to the small grocery store near me to get some more. It was late afternoon, and the weather was nice. Since the store is only about a mile from my house, I decided to walk."

She rested a hand on my arm, her fingers curling around my wrist.

"When I was there, I ran into a friend I hadn't seen in a while. We got caught up talking and I started for home a little later than I wanted. The sun was barely above the horizon. I could see my house in the distance when a car drove past me, then stopped. Two big scary men jumped out of the car and headed toward me. I stopped, backed up, and started to run the other way, but they caught me. One put a cloth over my face and then everything went black."

My gut clenched with her story. Instinct told me this wasn't just some random nightmare. "Is that what happened when you were first taken?"

"Yes." Her voice cracked with the word, and I absorbed her shudder that followed. "I-if I'd just waited to make cookies instead of going to the store. If I hadn't decided to walk there that night and taken the car instead. If I'd just stayed at the store and asked my friend to give me a ride home. None of it would have happened. It was my fault."

I pulled her a little tighter against me. "No, Precious. It wasn't. For all we know, they could have been stalking you and might have taken you at a different time. Either way, you thought you were safe and had no way of knowing that would happen. You can't blame yourself for this."

"Money had been tight ever since my husband passed away," she said as if she hadn't heard me. "So, I didn't want to take the car and waste gas for something so trivial as vanilla extract. I knew it was getting late and I shouldn't be out alone after dark. From when I was very little, my father always said not to go out alone after dark."

I remember reading in one of her letters how difficult the sudden death of her husband had been on her. She'd said both her and his families had stepped up to help her, but life hadn't been easy without him.

Now, listening to her blame herself for what happened to her in the wake of his death was breaking my heart. With my free hand, I cupped her face and gently turned her head, so she was looking at me. "Casey. Stop."

"But."

"Stop," I repeated. "I want you to listen to me. What happened to you was not your fault. You didn't cause it to happen, and you didn't deserve what Blackmore did to you."

"My family said it was."

Anger flared through me at her statement. It was a family's job to support the victim, not blame her. "What else did they say?"

Silence met my question and the anger inside me continued to build. "Precious, what did they say?"

"That I made the choice to sin when I capitulated to him. I should have allowed him to kill me," she whispered. "That way I could have been with my husband in God's arms. Because I didn't do that, in the eyes of the church I chose to sin. Therefore, to be absolved of those sins I needed to admit to them and ask forgiveness."

It was everything I could do to hold my temper. What kind of fucked up thinking was that? Because she chose to try and survive, she'd committed a sin? She'd once told me that the order she grew up in was rigid in their beliefs, but their attitude toward her wasn't just rigid, it was…reprehensible. "They're wrong, Casey. Choosing to live is not a sin."

Her wide eyes were glassy with unshed tears as she lifted her head to look at me. "Thank you."

While spoken barely above a whisper, those two little words carried so much emotion it caused a lump to form in my throat. "For what?"

"For your support. For being so understanding. For everything."

I lifted a hand to gently cup her cheek. "You don't have to thank me for those things. I want you to know, without a doubt, that I'd do anything for you. So, don't ever be afraid to ask if you need anything, okay?"

After a moment she whispered. "Okay"

The need to lean over and press a kiss to her lips nearly overwhelmed me. Instead, I pressed my lips to her temple and held there for a second as I fought to steady my nerves. "Do you think you can go back to sleep?" I finally asked.

"I-um." She pushed off me, breaking our contact as she sat up.

"What?"

"You really mean it about asking if I need anything?"

My brow knit. What did I have to do to prove to her that I mean what I say? "Of course."

"Well, um. I think I'd sleep better if you'd stay with me."

"What do you mean stay with you?"

"Like you did earlier today when I took a nap."

Holy shit. My brows winged up in surprise. That's the last thing I expected her to say. "Are you sure?"

Her attention shifted back to her hands in her lap. "It's been a long time since I slept as well as I did earlier today. I think I'd be able to sleep better if I knew you were right there to protect me."

While I wouldn't turn down her request, I also needed to put at least one ground rule in place first. "I'm happy to agree, but I'm not sleeping above the covers. Are you going to be okay with that change?"

I knew it was probably going to push her boundaries, but I had this weird hang up when it came to sleeping. At the very least, I needed to be under a sheet.

For a moment, she remained silent. Then, she slowly began to nod. She eyed me, her expression turning shy. "Are you going to put on a shirt?"

While I needed to be under covers when I slept, most of the time I was also completely naked. Obviously, there wasn't any way that was happening right now. Still, she needed to get to know my habits. Especially if we were going to be living together for the foreseeable future. I smirked. "Normally, I sleep in the nude."

Her eyes widened and her lips parted with a slight gasp. "Oh."

"It's more comfortable," I replied. "But I have no problem compromising. The shirt stays off, but I'll leave my pajama pants on."

"I…I guess I can handle that," she said before she began to chew on her bottom lip. "Um…which bed?"

"Yours," I said without hesitation.

"Why mine?" she asked, the innocence in her tone providing yet another reminder of how fucked up this entire situation was.

"A couple of reasons," I said as I stood. "First, I want you to get comfortable sleeping in your own bed in your own room."

"Okay," she replied. "And the second reason?"

"When the time comes for me to take you to my bed, it won't be for sleep. We both know it's too soon for that to happen."

Her lips formed an 'O' as she processed my words. Then her brow knit as she stared up at me. "Even after knowing what I was forced to do, you would still want me like that?"

I extended my hand and waited until she placed hers in mine. Then I helped her up. "Yes, I want you like that, but not until you're ready. You have some healing to do first." If I was being completely honest, we probably both had some healing to do.

Plus, with how I was feeling about her, the last thing I needed was to get that intimate, this soon.

Don't get me wrong. I'm the master at keeping emotions out of sex. I mean, I've had plenty of meaningless sex over the years. Hell, I've practically made a career out of it.

Still, I'm smart enough to know this situation is different. She is different. Because of that fact, I need to know what I'm feeling for her is real. Not just something I manifested because of her situation. Sex right now would only complicate my emotions.

That thought caused me to pause. Damn, was it possible that I was becoming responsible and dare I say it…mature? I almost smiled at that thought. Nobody, including me, would ever believe that I was capable of becoming a mature and responsible person. Especially, after I'd worked so hard at being carefree and fun.

I glanced at Casey as I guided her back to her bedroom. The fact was some people were worth growing up for. I helped her back to bed, then zipped back to my room to grab my phone and Ruger. Knowing I had the gun within reach would help me sleep better. I could use the alarm on my phone, so I didn't accidentally oversleep.

A few minutes later, we settled into her queen size bed. After refusing her request to put on a shirt, I'd expected her to give me her back. Maybe even put the extra pillow between us. Instead, she turned to face me and rested her hand on my bicep. "Good night, Lester."

I couldn't help the smile that claimed my lips as I stared at her. I'm not sure where she's getting her courage or strength, but I am so grateful to be the recipient of both. "Good night, Precious. Sweet dreams."