“Pish posh, you’re staying with me and that’s final.”
“Is it worth arguing with her or should I throw in the towel now and accept my fate?” I asked Mia.
“I told you before; Max hasn’t won an argument in thirty-two years . . .”
“Fine, I’ll pack my bags,” I replied, throwing my arms in the air in surrender.
“What about that bathing suit? Did you bring one?”
“Um, no, I don’t think I brought one.”
“Excellent . . . I mean, no problem, no problem at all. If my memory is correct, and it usually is, Mia didn’t have one either, and it served her well. Right, daughter-in-law?”
I looked across the table and caught Mia nodding in agreement with Maxine. I don’t know why, but something told me there was a story there, one I needed to hear.
Two
Hot Tub
The sharp crack of Shane’s ax bounced off the valley as it split cleanly through the wood. Fatigue had finally set into Shane’s biceps after an hour of splitting logs, but he kept going. He’d burnt off most of the adrenaline that pumped through his system from the confrontation with Sloan’s sister. Now, each rise and fall of the ax was more about keeping hold of his control as he digested her words.
Just as words have greater power than any blow a man can throw, this guilt you’re carrying over Emma’s death only has power because you allow it to.
He’d spent the last year trying to come to terms with his guilt, and in the course of an hour, both Maxine and Sloan’s sister had unraveled his hard-won progress.
Reaching down to grab another log, Shane paused when his thoughts drifted to Sloan’s sister. He closed his eyes and saw her face as she’d fought with him. He’d been angry at first, had crowded her to get her to stop talking, but she’d licked her rose-colored lips, drawing attention to her full, generously curved mouth that tempted a man to take, to taste, and he’d all but forgotten his name.
When her voice had softened, nailing with pinpoint accuracy the way he felt, he couldn’t speak. After fighting the darkness, having it laid bare in the simplest terms was almost a relief. But the moment was lost when she’d offered her blind forgiveness. She'd feel different if she knew the truth, and the thought of those pale-green pools that drew him in and made him feel weak staring back at him with hate, had sent him over the edge. He’d lost it then and cornered her, but the sweet scent of flowers hit him square in the lungs, and for half a second he’d wanted to kiss her rather than send her away. Her hands at his chest, pushing him back, had broken the spell she had him under. So he’d done the only thing he could before he made the biggest mistake of his life, short of not transferring Sloan, and removed her from his space before he kissed her.
Shaking off the memory of soft curves and hair so silky-looking he wanted to wrap his hand in it while he took her mouth, Shane raised his ax and swung hard, splitting the wood down the center. Tossing the two halves onto the growing pile of firewood, he paused when he heard tires kicking up rocks on his drive.
Shane’s house, located a few short miles from town, was his childhood home. His parents held on to it for him after they’d moved to the lower forty-eight for a warmer climate, knowing he’d want to return to Trails End once he discharged from the Army. He loved his childhood home, but one day when his life was sorted, he planned to build his own cabin high up on the ridge overlooking the town.
Turning toward the drive, he watched as Max pulled up and parked. He’d been waiting for him to arrive since he left Last Call. He knew Maxine would get the truth out of Sloan’s sister and sic Max on him, but he was surprised it had taken more than an hour for him to arrive. This either meant Emma Jane’s sister could hold her own against Maxine or Max had been avoiding the hens as they interrogated the woman. The more he thought about it as he watched Max peel out of his truck, the more he knew the answer. Max would avoid a headache that came along with dealing with his mother for as long as possible.
Shane leaned down and grabbed another log as Max made his way over to him. He refused to look him in the face, knew if he saw pity looking back, he’d lose his cool again.
“I see Maxine hasn’t lost her touch,” he muttered as Max walked up and leaned against a tree.
“Nope.”
Silence ensued as Shane raised his ax and swung hard. When the log broke apart, he repeated the action again and again until he couldn’t take the silence any longer.
“Just say whatever it is you came to say,” he bit out.
“All right,” Max said, pushing off the tree. “I’ve known you all my life, Shane. There’s not a better man around or a more loyal friend than you are. I don’t know what happened with Sage’s sister, or why you think it’s your fault, but I do know there’s no way in hell you purposely did anything to harm that woman. I don’t need the details; I just need you to know that I’m here when you’re ready to talk."