“Yeah? Then trust me, you don’t want to make it worse,” he warned.
“Christ, Shane, you know as well as I do that the men in this town are gonna stand up and take notice of a woman like Sage. If not me, then it’ll be someone else,” he explained and that settled in Shane’s chest like a lead ball, feeding his anger. Before he could reply, however, or put a fist to Chester’s jaw, Maxine’s door flew open and Martha came bursting out.
“Let’s get a move on. Sage isn’t feeling up to answering questions right now, and I got an early morning.”
“Guess I’ll be back tomorrow, then,” Chester mumbled with a grin, throwing out, “Later,” and flicking a two-fingered salute at Shane as he walked to his car and folded in.
Shane watched the cruiser’s taillights until they were gone, his jaw working overtime as he clenched his teeth. He needed to get out of there before he made things worse for the both of them.
Looking back at the cabin before he left, he caught Sage watching him from the window. Their eyes met and held, and he forgot to breathe. A small, sad smile finally pulled across her lips and she raised her hand to the window. Watching Sage, he remembered the way her mouth had opened for him as if she’d done it every day. He also remembered the way her body felt warm in his arms, the sweet taste of her lips, and the scent of flowers in her hair. The urge to walk the few feet to Maxine’s door and claim that mouth again was strong; instead, he tore his attention from Sage and mumbled, “Christ,” before turning and heading for his truck.
Fate was laughing at him now. The first woman to make his blood burn with hunger was the one woman he couldn’t have. Whether or not Sage could forgive him was irrelevant, she would always be a constant reminder of how he failed a nineteen-year-old kid.
Three
I’m Confused
The sun rose at four oh six. I knew this because I’d watched it rise above the trees in all it’s aggravating splendor. So much had happened in the few short hours since I’d arrived in Trails End that I couldn’t sleep and the constant sun wasn’t helping matters. I kept dissecting my interactions with Shane, his admission and belief that he was at fault for Emma’s death and the look on his face when he left. Guilt is such a powerful emotion; one I knew well. I still carried guilt that I couldn’t protect my mother and sister from Richard even though I was a child when he came into our lives. So I understood better than most that Shane’s belief that he was at fault was a cross he’d have to bear until he let it go.
Coupled with the fact I believed he was suffering from PTSD, I knew when he admitted what he perceived to be his fault in her death, it was his road to travel alone. I wanted more than anything to help him, but for a majority of veterans, conventional therapy to combat PTSD did not work. After meeting Shane, I could see why. The strong-willed ones, the leaders among men, view it as weak to seek help, and they cope the best they can. That’s what Shane’s been doing, and because of this, nothing I said—or anyone else, for that matter—would speed up the process until he was ready to see the truth. Emma’s death was a byproduct of war, nothing else.
But hearing the sorrow in his words, knowing that he’d been beating himself up for a year and that my coming to town unannounced had made it worse, killed me. I don’t know what I was thinking coming to Trails End. Why I thought a man I’d never met could help me, I’ll never know. Though it did prove one thing, you shouldn’t make rash decisions when you’re stressed. When you do, you wreak havoc on those around you and end up kissing a man you barely know.
Not that the kiss was a bad experience. On the contrary, it was the best damn kiss I’d had in my life. So good I could barely stand on my own two feet when he pushed me away. And because of that kiss, I was confused about what to do. I’d felt a connection when our lips met. I knew he did as well when he’d tightened his hold and buried his face in my neck. Nevertheless, when he left last night, it seemed like he was saying good-bye. So that left me with one question rolling around in my head all night. Should I stay or should I go?
My gut told me that I would be a constant reminder to Shane about Emma if I hid here until I could return home. That it would force him to come to terms with his guilt or make it worse. I just wasn’t sure which, but it was more than likely a little of both.
I’d also be lying to myself if I didn’t admit that a tiny part of me hoped whatever passed between us might be real, and he’d kiss me again.
Due to my stepfather’s abuse, I never felt safe around men. Other than Jerry, who was no threat because he was weak and selfish, my experience was limited because of my uneasiness. However, the fear that generally accompanied being around an unknown male vanished when I was near Shane, and I couldn’t ignore it.