a reason to live(39)

“You told me once you weren’t the person I thought you were, but you’re wrong. You’ve just forgotten who that man is. You’re walking alone through life, Shane. If you’d given me a chance, I would have tried to be your anchor, to keep you grounded, given you a reason to live. You could have breathed me in, even when it hurts to breathe, and I would have helped you heal,” I cried out. “You could have found love so profound it stopped time in the face of it—that’s what I would have given to you if you’d been brave enough to try.”

I didn’t wait for his reply. I turned to leave as soon as I finished. But Shane grabbed my arm and spun me around before I made it one step. I gasped when my chest slammed into his and then his mouth was on mine. I wanted to cry at the intensity of the kiss, at how beautiful it could be between us. But heartache was mixed in with his passion as he drew out the kiss, bending me at the waist to control every nuance.

When he finally broke from my lips, he placed his forehead on mine and stared into my eyes. I saw his pain, his uncertainty, what I didn’t see was forgiveness for himself.

“Sage.” His voice was strained. The longing, the pain in that single word was heartbreaking

“I wish I could help you,” I whispered, reaching up to run my hand down his cheek. “You deserve love and so much more.”

Shane held my gaze for a moment longer then kissed me softly before releasing me. I stepped back, refusing to look at him because it hurt too much, and made a decision that would save us both the heartache he feared.

Turning to my right, I found Maxine and Gregor standing next to Max and Mia watching us, all with identical looks of sadness. They cared so much for Shane. He had the support he needed. I could only pray he reached out at some point and took it.

Moving toward Maxine and Gregor, I shored up my defenses for what was to come. When I was standing in front of them both, I spoke.

“Gregor, I made a mistake. I won’t be staying in Trails End as I thought.”

Maxine widened her eyes in response and she turned to Gregor, placing her hand on his arm. He looked at her and put his own hand on top of hers. Something passed between them, like minds speaking without words.

“I’ll be in a pickle if you don’t at least help out this weekend. Can you put off leaving until then?”

I thought about my proximity to Shane until I could leave and nodded. It would be easy to avoid him on the river so I could delay leaving until we returned.

“All right. I’ll stay until after the trip.”

“Thank you, lass,” Gregor responded, reaching out to squeeze my hand.

I was on the verge of tears again, so I excused myself and headed for my Jeep. Max was talking to Shane as I walked away, so I put my head down and kept moving. I felt Shane’s eyes burning into my back as I left. Once I was far enough away, I turned back and caught sight of Shane walking away alone, heading for the lake. I watched until he made it to the water’s edge and lowered his head. My vision clouded as I took him in. I was aching to reach out to him one more time, but I didn’t. Nothing I said would change a thing until he was ready to accept the truth.

I wasn’t sure if I’d see him again before I left, so I watched a moment longer than I should have. Then I tucked the sight of him away in my memory, said good-bye to what might have been, and went back to Maxine’s.

After dealing with my stepfather, Emma Jane’s death, hiding from a stalker, and now dealing with Shane, I was emotionally exhausted. I couldn’t stop the tears if I tried. As a rule, I tried not to focus on things I couldn’t change, told myself what doesn’t kill me makes me stronger, but at that moment, it was a lie.

Some pain can stop you in your tracks and halt your life. Some pain is so debilitating that you can’t see past it. It took the last year to bring me to that point, but here I was, lying on the bed in Maxine’s home with the blinds pulled and the lights off. It wasn’t until that moment when Shane’s rejection tipped me over the edge that I finally understood him. And that caused the tears to flow harder.

The ache of all I’d lost was so intense I wasn’t sure if I could move from the bed if the house caught fire, and it was eye-opening. I realized that’s what Shane had been living with for the past year, and I ached more. I couldn’t breathe adequately; my lungs were constricted by a choking feeling of loss and regret. I wanted to take a knife and cut the pain from my chest so I wouldn’t hurt anymore. I don’t know how Shane got up each day with that type of pain radiating through his system. But it proved how strong he was. How brave he was that he faced each day without sharing his burden with a single person.