Author's Note: I hope this chapter lives up to expectations.
What Matters More
Chapter 3
Back in her own apartment, Kate changed out of her dress–she was beginning to think the red dress really might be ill-fated (and then thought, again, she might have been spending too much time with Castle to think such a thing)–and into jeans and a comfortable sweater, slipping back on the necklace on which she kept her mom's ring.
She was leaving her bedroom when she belatedly realized what she had already, almost subconsciously, decided to do. Her date had ended early, to say nothing of her relationship, and she was, if not numb, a little unsettled. Perhaps more because she felt she should be more upset than she was but couldn't pretend to be. She had honestly liked Josh but somewhere deep inside her, she supposed she'd always known that their relationship wasn't going to last forever. Aside from anything else, she had to admit it had hardly been a very good sign that she didn't particularly miss Josh when he was away on his missions. She hadn't been happy that he was gone so much and she'd liked spending time with him when he was around but when he was away, well, she had just gone on with her life and her job without feeling much of anything, let alone any particular sense of loss.
Be that as it were, she might not be upset but she couldn't escape the thought that had been almost haunting her all evening long, that Castle was upset. And he was alone at home, with no one to talk to or try to distract him or cheer him up or comfort him or anything. She had only reluctantly parted from him because of her date and now, with her date over, she knew where she wanted to be. More, where she felt she needed to be.
She paused only long enough to go over to her small store of alcohol and after a moment, picked up an unopened bottle of red wine. She had some whiskey too but the bottle was already open and in any event, because she had already figured out that Castle would not get drunk when Alexis was home, she figured something less potent would be better. Although she supposed it was rather silly to bring even a bottle of wine over considering she knew Castle had a much more extensive–and expensive–collection of alcohol but, well, it was mostly meant as a gesture.
So armed, she set out to make her way to the loft, not even trying to analyze her decision. What was there to analyze, anyway? Castle was upset so she was doing what any good friend would do to help, that was all.
Once at the loft, she managed a smile and friendly greeting with Peter, the doorman on duty, who she knew, as she knew all the doormen who worked shifts at the front door from the week she'd stayed at the loft last year after her apartment had exploded.
It was only when she had knocked on the door to the loft that she belatedly realized she hadn't planned what she was going to say to Castle to explain her presence, although she supposed it didn't matter much. Somehow, with him, words always seemed to come.
She heard the sound of his footsteps and then the muffled sound of his voice as he was already speaking even as he opened the door. "Did you forget your k–" He broke off as he saw her, shock blanking his expression. "Beckett!"
She essayed a small smile and lifted the bottle of wine she'd brought. "Hey. I was wondering if you'd be up for having another drink."
He blinked, still appearing bemused, but ingrained manners kicked in and he automatically stepped back, allowing her inside. Although she supposed it wasn't only his manners but just him; she couldn't imagine he would ever not welcome her in. She was sure that even if she showed up in the middle of the night, waking him up in the process, even for some trivial purpose, he would let her in without question. It was just the sort of man he was.
And she wasn't sure why but that was when she realized that while she had told herself she was really just acting out of concern for Castle and it wasn't untrue, even if Castle had not been upset, she would still have wanted to see him. What Josh had said returned to her mind–the person she wanted to spend her time with. After all, he might have been right and that person was Castle. She wasn't entirely sure how or when it had happened but it was true. With the possible exception of her dad, Castle was the person she most enjoyed spending time with. So with her being at loose ends with the early end to her date and rather restless in her own apartment, she had come here, to see Castle.
"What are you doing here? What about your date?" He accepted the wine automatically while she shrugged out of her coat and hung it up in the front closet before he could try to help.
"My date ended early. Along with the relationship," she added, addressing her words more to the inside of the front closet than to him.
But then she turned back to see him staring at her. "You broke up?"
Her lips twisted a little. "Yeah, we did," she confirmed and even she had to admit that her tone was as casual and matter-of-fact as if she'd just stated what day of the week it was. It sounded odd, yes, to confirm such a thing in such a tone but she couldn't help that.
A scowl formed between his brows. "He broke up with you on Valentine's Day?"
"Why do you assume he broke up with me?"
He gave her a look as if she'd asked what year it was. "If you'd been planning to break up with him, you would have done it before the date even started and not on Valentine's Day because breaking up with someone over a Valentine's Day date is a jackass thing to do and you aren't that type of person."
Her lips twitched a little even as she felt a little spark of warmth inside her at how simply, how certainly, he said this. But when did he ever doubt her? It was a little amazing and humbling because she knew he meant it. He truly thought she was extraordinary and sometimes she wondered how sustainable that belief in her was because she didn't know how he could think it so sincerely. She, who was so damaged and wounded and struggled more than she ever wanted anyone to know.
"I can call up the boys and we'll go hunt Josh down, rough him up," he immediately went on.
He didn't sound even remotely humorous and a small sound of mingled surprise, dismay, and humor escaped her. "What? No, why would you–you can't do that."
He gave her a look that suggested she'd said something absurd. "You can't honestly think that the boys wouldn't want to shoot him if he hurt you."
"He didn't, so there's no need for anyone to go all vigilante. It was a mutual decision." She remembered his earlier words and added, "Not even a flesh wound. I'm fine."
He studied her. "You're sure?"
"Do I seem like I'm upset?"
"Well, no," he conceded after a moment, "but you also have a world champion poker face."
Her lips quirked slightly but then she sobered. "I'm really fine," she repeated before going on, "Anyway, I think you won the bad-day sweepstakes today."
His lips twisted ruefully. "That's one 'win' I could do without." He appeared to have finally accepted her assurance as he made a gesture with his free hand to usher her deeper inside. "Since you're here, make yourself comfortable. You okay with wine or do you want something else? Scotch, beer, water, coffee?"
A quick glance around didn't reveal any glasses of alcohol out although she noted a mug out on the island. "I'm fine with whatever you'll have."
"Cute, Beckett, but you're the guest. You get to pick."
By now, she knew how seriously Castle took his host duties so she didn't argue further. "Wine is fine."
He nodded although she noted that he moved to his own wine selection and did not simply open up the bottle she had brought over, instead pulling out one of his bottles. She relaxed back on the couch and watched as Castle deftly opened the bottle and poured two glasses.
He joined her on the couch, offering one glass to her.
They clinked glasses and each took a sip while she studied him over the rim of her wine glass. He looked sober but not quite as bleak as he had earlier. She wanted to ask how he was feeling but wasn't sure if he would want to talk.
"I take it Alexis is still out on her date?"
As always, his expression softened at the mention of his daughter. "Yeah, she is, although–" he glanced at the clock, "I imagine she'll be home pretty soon. Actually, when you knocked, I assumed it was her and she'd forgotten her key."
"Sorry to disappoint."
He threw her a half-smile. "You know you're not a disappointment."
There was a brief pause in which he looked at her, opened his mouth, hesitated, and then closed his mouth again before glancing away and taking another sip of his wine.
"What is it, Castle?"
His eyes flew to hers. "What is what?"
She allowed herself a small roll of her eyes. "Whatever it is you're clearly dying to say. Just spit it out."
"I don't want to pry."
She gave him a dry smirk. "That's never stopped you before."
"Touché."
"Well?"
He hesitated again and then blurted out, "What happened with you and Josh to go on your Valentine's Day date and end up deciding to break up? The usual scenarios that would end with breaking-up mid-date involve having a big fight but you seem too calm for that to have happened."
Of course he would be curious. Was he ever not curious about anything when it involved her? But for all that she should have–had, if she were honest–expected that he would ask, she still hesitated. She had wanted to come over and see him and they were, aside from all else, good friends, but even so, it still didn't exactly come naturally or easily for her to talk about her personal life. "We didn't have a fight," she began with what was easier. "We were just talking about Josh's upcoming trip to Haiti. He's leaving in two weeks. And I guess, talking about his going away just had us both thinking about the future, where we might be heading, and we realized that neither of us really believed we could make things work long-term with how busy we both are, how much he's away." She wasn't about to tell Castle that the real catalyst to the decision had been Castle himself, and how thinking about him had distracted her. She lifted one shoulder into a half-shrug. "So we ended it. No hard feelings, no harm, no foul." More practically, it occurred to her that she and Josh could make such a clean break because neither of them had kept anything at the other's place. They had never really gotten to the point of keeping clothes at the other's place or anything like that.
"As long as you're okay with it." He paused, his expression shifting. "Wait, if your date ended so quickly, did you even get a chance to eat dinner?"
"I ate some."
"Some? So you didn't finish. Are you hungry? Let me get you something to eat." He surged to his feet and strode quickly over to the kitchen. "We have lots of food. I could make you a sandwich or there's lasagna left over from dinner yesterday or I could fry up a couple eggs or if you want something lighter, we have fruit and yogurt."
She considered it and realized she was a little hungry. And as she knew, Castle liked to act as the host, liked to feed people. He was a caretaker at heart. "I wouldn't mind a little bit of lasagna if that's okay."
"Of course. Coming right up."
She stood up and moved over to the kitchen island, setting her wine glass down after taking another sip as Castle puttered in the kitchen. "So what were you up to when I came, while you were waiting for Alexis to come home?"
"Not much. I was killing time playing a computer game. I tried to watch TV but just about everything on was really sappy, for Valentine's Day and all, and I wasn't in the mood so I gave up. I tried to write but I didn't feel like it." His lips twisted. "Unsurprisingly, after what happened."
"You know what Damian did really doesn't say anything about you as a writer."
He made a face. "I suppose. I can think that with my head but it's not the same as feeling it with my heart."
She could understand that.
He placed a plate of lasagna in front of her along with a fork. "Bon appetit."
She started on the lasagna, that was very good but then she already knew from the week she'd stayed at the loft last spring that Castle made a good lasagna and was generally a very good cook.
She studied him as she ate. His expression had darkened. "What is it? You can talk to me."
He hesitated and then sighed, grimacing. "It's not only that I became a writer because of Damian. It's not that simple. I was miserable at Edgewyck, a pariah, the scholarship kid whose mother was an actress and who didn't know his father's name." His lips twisted, his expression grim. "You can imagine. You remember what those Redding kids were like in the Donny Kendall case just after we started working together?"
She made a small face. "I remember." And that said it all. Kids in general could be awfully cruel and spoiled entitled rich kids tended to be exponentially worse. She'd never heard Castle talking so openly about his past before he'd become successful; he usually tried to make it sound as if his life had started with his first bestseller that had always seemed foreordained to him and he'd never looked back. She felt as if she were finally getting glimpses of the young boy he'd once been, Rick Rodgers, before he'd reinvented himself as Richard Castle, successful celebrity author. And the picture that was taking shape in her mind was not a happy one. It occurred to her that this might be where he had first learned his insouciant wiseass act because the best way to get the better of bullies was to act like you didn't care, nothing bothered you.
"Damian was a legacy, one of the golden boys at Edgewyck. He was the first one to give me a chance and where he led, others followed. I trusted him, looked up to him. And when he told me I had talent, I believed him. And even though he and I lost touch after that, all the times when I felt discouraged, when people like Sheila Blaine told me I could never make it as a writer and would end up broke or barely making do in some lame job somewhere, when the first couple publishers I sent my first book to rejected it, I remembered that Damian had believed in me, so I kept on trying."
No wonder Castle had tried so hard to prove Damian innocent. It was so like Castle, to repay Damian's act of kindness so many years ago with such steadfast loyalty even years later. And to have that loyalty repaid with a betrayal was terrible.
"So I really am who I am today because of Damian." He made a bitter, angry little sound. "All this time, I was inspired by a murderer."
She almost flinched again at the pain in his voice. And oh god, she hadn't realized quite how important Damian's opinion had been to him.
"I feel like an idiot and yes, I can tell myself it's his fault for being a liar. But I also feel like everything's been… tainted."
She really hated Damian. She was glad he'd already been taken off to the Tombs because for the first time in a while, she wasn't sure how she would react if she came face to face with him again.
"Castle, you persevered because it's the type of person you are. Damian might have planted the seed but you were the person who did the work of watering the seed, taking care of it, making sure it grew and flourished. Maybe thinking of Damian helped but I think you would have persevered anyway. You're too stubborn to give up." She tried for a faint smile that faded as he didn't react to the mild tease for probably the first time ever. "Damian might have recognized your talent but talent alone isn't enough to succeed. Damian could have told someone else that they were talented but I don't think any of those other people would have ended up as Richard Castle, New York Times bestselling author. You made it because of your effort, your determination, your commitment."
"You might be drunk; you keep praising me. Or maybe I'm the drunk one." His tone was a poor imitation of his usual humorous one.
"Don't tempt me to take it back," she returned automatically. What more could she say to Castle to try to encourage him out of this writing funk he had fallen into. After all, he always said she was his muse and anyway, making him feel better had been her main purpose in coming here, hadn't it? (The fact that she felt better, steadier, more like herself, after spending time with him was just an added benefit.)
Castle had placed Damian on a pedestal, made an idol of him, and now discovered that his idol had feet of clay. Just like what had happened to her and Royce, she suddenly thought with the tug of pain that the thought of Royce still–probably always would–evoke.
Oh. She had never thought, imagined, talking about how she felt at the thought of Royce with anyone, let alone imagined telling anyone else about her conversation with her dad about Royce but… this was Castle. And if talking about her own hurt would help–she was a little surprised to realize that wanting to make Castle feel better could motivate her to push past her usual reticence and reluctance to share.
"Do you remember when I arrested Royce?" she began quietly, inwardly steeling herself. This wouldn't be easy but some things mattered more than her own ease.
He jerked his eyes up to meet hers but didn't answer her rhetorical question, although his eyes had sharpened, focused on her, while his expression suffused with the empathy, the compassion, that was so much a part of him.
"I mentioned it to my dad and he reminded me of something Captain Montgomery told me once," she went on slowly, picking her words. "People are complicated. They're not as good as the best thing they have ever done and at the same time, they are better than the worst thing they have ever done. What Royce did, the way he betrayed me, doesn't negate what he did for me as a mentor, as a friend." She paused, pressed her lips together. The thought, the memory, still hurt and she was still trying to come to terms with it herself, still trying to feel it with her heart, as Castle had put it.
She looked up at him. He was almost frozen, was listening with the focus with which he always listened when she mentioned something personal, something of her past. She felt an odd little flicker of warmth in her chest. Because at times like this, he looked at her as if nothing else in the world mattered but her and her words and it was hard not to react to that kind of look. "I'm the cop I am today because of the Captain and because of Royce. My dad said I shouldn't allow what Royce did to ruin all my memories because there's truth in the memories too. And I think my dad's right." She paused, tried for a faint smile that didn't quite make it. "He often is. Royce did help me a lot back then, just as Damian helped you."
On impulse, she reached out and placed her hand on top of his where it rested on the island. "I know it's hard and it hurts but we should try to remember that the friendship, whatever else they did, was also real."
He turned his hand over so he could grasp her fingers with his, squeezing them. She looked at their joined hands, conscious of the warmth and strength of his fingers. It wasn't the first time they had held hands. She remembered sitting by the motel pool after Jerry Tyson had gotten away in the 3XK case. But it felt somehow different now. And she couldn't help but think that it was because now they were both single and they both knew it too. Now, there was no shadow of something like guilt, nothing to taint the touch, the moment.
"Your dad sounds like a wise man."
"He has his moments." Her faint smile was affectionate as she thought about her dad. And her heart–silly thing–gave a hard thump and strangely, she knew it was because of his tone, his expression, the softness and the respect in it that she knew wasn't about her but was for her dad. Her dad, a man he had never met. It occurred to her, rather fuzzily, that this was why she had told Castle about her mom and her dad's struggles even so soon after getting to know him. As much as he could irritate her, as much as his humor could be inappropriate and badly-timed–when it came to anything related to her parents, even from the beginning, he'd been respectful. She remembered the way he'd looked, the way he'd sounded, when he'd profiled her during that first case, told her why she'd become a cop–and been right on every count. He'd been serious, sympathetic, even then. And somehow, in spite of everything, she had sensed that she could trust him.
Their eyes met and held, his hand so warm where it was holding hers. Her breathing was starting to feel a little uneven.
But then they both heard the sound of a key in the lock and the door cracked open and their hands flew apart as they each jerked upright, Castle taking a quick step back as if even the expanse of the island between them wasn't enough.
The door stayed ajar for a long minute–during which Kate realized that Ashley and Alexis were kissing (and from Castle's faint grimace, he knew it too)–and then they heard a few quiet murmurs as Alexis and Ashley said their goodnights before the door fully opened and Alexis stepped inside. She looked both comfortable and pretty, in a short coat, a sweater, and a skirt, carrying a small purse and a little gift bag. And she was a little flushed, her lips rather swollen.
"I'm home," the girl announced and then paused as she saw Kate. "Oh, Detective Beckett, hi. I didn't know you were here."
"Hi, Alexis," Kate smiled at the girl. "Did you have a nice date? And you know you can call me Kate. We're not in the precinct."
Alexis blushed brighter but smiled. "Yeah, I did, thanks. Ashley gave me these." She pulled a little teddy bear holding a plush heart out of the gift bag and then pointed to her wrist, graced with a charm bracelet. "See? It's a book, the letter A that works for both of us, a tiger for the Princeton mascot because that's where we met, and a mouse, although it's supposed to be a rat, for Theodore because he says I'm the first person he's trusted to take care of Theodore."
"Very cute and appropriate," Kate approved, exchanging a small smile with Castle.
Alexis beamed and came around the island to give Castle a quick kiss on the cheek. "Hi, Dad. Did you have a good day?"
He gave her a one-armed hug, dropping a kiss on her hair. "Hi, sweetie. My day was fine, thanks." He briefly glanced over and met Kate's eyes, not that Kate had any intention of exposing Castle's fib or was even surprised by it. He pasted on an expression of mock confusion. "You know your curfew is at 10 so you could have stayed out later."
Kate hid a smile. It was so like Castle to immediately jump to teasing as a distraction. And so like Castle and Alexis with their strange role reversal that he teased her about coming home earlier than her curfew. Certainly, her own parents had never had reason to say such a thing to her teenage self.
Alexis only laughed, giving him a quick hug. "It's a school night and I still have some homework to finish up."
Castle turned to look at Kate. "I swear she didn't get this sense of responsibility from me."
"You don't need to tell me that, Castle," she told him dryly. "Responsible is not the first word that comes to mind to describe you."
He smirked. "Responsible isn't the first word I'd use to describe me either. Ruggedly handsome, maybe."
"That's two words, not one, Dad. And I'd go with vain," Alexis put in, throwing a grin at Kate.
"Or maybe silly," Kate supplied.
"Silly works," Alexis agreed. "Or weird."
"Okay, okay, you can both stop describing me now. I think I'm wounded." Castle attempted a look of offended dignity.
Alexis and Kate both laughed and Alexis patted her dad's arm in mock commiseration. "You'll survive. I need to go finish my homework and then get to bed. Night, Dad. Night, Kate."
Kate smiled at the girl. "Good night, Alexis."
"Night, pumpkin."
Alexis went lightly up the stairs and then they heard the faint sound of a door closing.
Kate turned back to Castle. "It seems like Ashley's a nice boy."
Castle pulled a face. "It goes against all my fatherly instincts but I suppose, if Alexis has to have a boyfriend, he's not bad."
She laughed at this grudging endorsement. "You should count yourself lucky, Castle. My dad wasn't nearly as happy over my high school boyfriends. I'm pretty sure he hated them all."
Castle's expression had lit with the interest he always showed when she mentioned her past. "Your punk rocker days?" he asked.
"He was a grunge rocker," she corrected automatically and then frowned. "How do you–no, never mind. Maddy," she guessed darkly.
Castle smirked. "She was a very helpful source."
"Remind me to kill her next time I see her," she told him conversationally.
He only laughed and she smiled, realizing with a spurt of gladness that he looked like himself again and maybe it was at least partly due simply to Alexis having come home since she knew his daughter's presence tended to cheer him up but whatever the reason, she was glad.
She had finished up the lasagna and pushed the plate away. "Thanks for the lasagna. It hit the spot."
"Anytime. Do you want dessert? We have ice cream or cookies or chocolate. Or another glass of wine?"
"No, thanks, I'm fine. And I shouldn't have any more wine anyway since I do have to drive home."
"You could still have more wine. You know the guest room here is always available for you."
She gave a small laugh. "Thanks but no. I don't have any sorrows to drown so it's hardly necessary, not on a weeknight."
"Actually," he suggested, "why don't you come over for dinner tomorrow? I know the day after a breakup can sometimes be worse than the day of, leave you feeling at a loss because of not having other plans or someone to talk to."
She doubted that would be the case for her. She and Josh hadn't really talked every day; their respective schedules didn't allow it. But she also knew that whatever his given reason, it wasn't really why he was asking. "Sure, that sounds nice," she found herself agreeing almost before she'd realized she was going to. Castle was a good cook and spending time in the loft with him and with Alexis was always pleasant. Did it have to mean any more than that? But even as she thought it, Josh's words returned to her mind–the one she really wanted to spend time with.
"Great!" Castle beamed.
She returned his smile, her silly heart fluttering just a little in spite of herself. She wasn't sure if she could ever quite get used to how delighted Castle always appeared when she accepted one of his invitations, no matter how minor, how even after all this time, he appeared to view spending any time with her outside of work (and at work too, for that matter) as an unalloyed gift. She didn't know how or why he would–liar, a little voice in her mind interjected. She did know why.
Unbidden, she found herself remembering what Agent Shaw had told her last spring. He cares about you, Kate. You may not see it, you may not be ready to. But he does.
She had told herself so many times in the year since then that Agent Shaw had been wrong, had to have been wrong, or that what she thought she'd seen had only been Castle's friendship. Because how much could he care if he could so easily walk off into the sunset with his ex-wife and spend the summer away? It had taken a long time before she'd been fair-minded enough to acknowledge that she had started her relationship with Tom weeks before Castle left and not been subtle about it. So Castle had every right to start a relationship with another woman in turn.
And then he'd come back to the precinct. And somehow, with every day, every week, that had passed, it had become harder and harder to deny that even when Gina had still been in the picture, whatever Castle felt for her, it was something more than simple friendship and it was very real.
She could admit that now without any mental backtracking or attempts at denial. Admit it without the automatic, instinctive flicker of reactive guilt.
But as usual, when she approached too close to thinking about her reaction, her feelings, she felt a surge of something like panic, felt the need to retreat or deflect or something.
She slid off the stool. "It's getting late and I should probably be heading home. Besides," she added, trying to sound light, "now that Alexis is home, you aren't alone at home to mope anymore."
"I'm a grown man and a writer. I don't mope, I brood."
"Okay, fine, you aren't alone at home to 'brood' anymore," she corrected, putting a somewhat sarcastic emphasis on the word, brood.
He inclined his head as if she'd made some big concession and then followed after her to the door of the loft.
"Hey, Beckett?"
"Hmm, what?" She turned back as she shrugged into her coat.
"You're a really good friend. And I appreciate it." He paused and added with a faintly rueful look, "I don't exactly like to talk about it but I don't have a lot of real friends. People who don't care at all about my money or my fame or my connections or whatever. Even people like the Mayor and my writer group like Cannell and Patterson, they're friends, yes, but it's not quite the same. With the Mayor, it's like a quid pro quo, where I give him campaign donations and a celebrity endorsement and he gives me some influence; with the writers, they're colleagues, in a sense, and rivals too, as well as friends. You're different. You're the real thing. And especially after a day like today, I wanted to say, thank you."
Her heart was abruptly thudding in her chest. Oh god. She had already realized this but it felt different, hearing him say it, seeing the look in his eyes that was… warmer than mere friendship.
"You're a good friend too." The bare words didn't feel like enough, felt as if there should be more. She had the sudden absurd thought to shake his hand or something but that would be ridiculous and inappropriate.
He reached out a hand to touch her arm, just a brief touch and as much as he would ever do without invitation but at that moment, it wasn't enough and she stepped into him, her arms going around him a little tentatively. He stiffened a little in surprise but then his arms closed around her, brought her fully against him. Until her head was nestled against his shoulder and his familiar scent was filling her nose and she could feel the warmth and the strength of him against her, almost dwarfing her.
It was not the first time they had hugged, they had exchanged a quick celebratory hug after finding the treasure that Royce had betrayed her over and there was, of course, the long, heated moments that hadn't been a hug outside the warehouse just weeks ago. But it was the first one that had been intentional, the first one she had initiated, the first one that had lingered. Allowing her to appreciate his height and his bulk, making her feel sheltered, which should have been absurd because she was the one with a gun and the training but somehow, she liked it. Liked the way she fit against him.
But she didn't–couldn't–allow herself to linger for long and stepped back, releasing him.
She was aware that she had flushed and she found it easier to focus her gaze on his ear rather than fully meeting his eyes. "Night, Castle."
"Happy Valentine's Day, Beckett. See you tomorrow."
And then she slipped out of the loft, trying hard not to feel as if she were fleeing. From what, she wasn't quite sure.
Anyway, fleeing or not, it wasn't as if she were going far. She'd be seeing Castle again tomorrow, would be coming back here tomorrow. And hoped that by then, she'd have figured out just what she felt and what she wanted to do about it.
~To be continued…~
A/N 3: Thank you, as always, to all readers and reviewers, especially the guests whom I can't thank directly.