a reason to live(60)

Shane whispered, “Jesus,” as peace surrounded him like a blanket, and he took a step toward her, caught in an invisible rope of warmth, until she said, “Shane?”

Her concerned tone cut through whatever insanity had gripped him, and he slammed his eyes shut. When he did, the earth beneath him shifted again, tilting back to familiar ground as thunder rolled with the approaching storm. Then Sage touched his arm, grounding him further in reality, reminding him why he had to keep his distance.

When thunder cracked across the sky like an omen of impending doom, Shane knew he had no choice. For her sake, it was time to push her away once and for all.

***

Shane was looking at me, but he wasn’t seeing me, so I whispered, “Shane?”

He slammed his eyes shut at my question.

I’d spent the better part of the day taking Maxine’s advice, but he’d been stubborn, avoiding conversation with me when he could. I decided if I couldn’t get through to him through my words, I’d work on getting through to him with my actions. I’d teased with him, flirted a bit, and let him know I believed in him. I wasn’t playing games, just showing him what a day with Sage the woman could be like, as opposed to the sister of the girl he thought he killed.

He’d been off balance the whole trip, that was apparent, and he’d seesawed between angry and confused. There were moments I wanted to grab his face and shout he was pigheaded, but I held back. I knew I couldn’t force him; he had to reason out his feelings on his own.

Was that happening now?

Thunder rocked the sky like an angry giant and rain pelted the surrounding trees, but I held my breath, as he stood motionless.

Lightning sparked across the sky, causing me to jump, but Shane didn’t move. The air in my lungs burned, desperate for escape. But I held it. Afraid any movement would interrupt whatever he was working through.

Booboo finally lost interest and wandered through a bush in search of whatever bears look for in the woods.

Close to half a minute passed since he’d closed his eyes, so I raised my hand and placed it on his arm. At my touch, his eyes opened, focused, then he looked down at my hand. When thunder echoed through the forest again, he jerked back a step.

“We need to get back,” he said in a flat voice and stepped back even further.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.”

When he started to move away, I reached for his arm, but he shrugged it off and kept walking.

“Shane, what’s wrong?” I followed close on his heels as he headed for the wood he’d dropped. He didn’t answer while he leaned down and picked it up.

“Why won’t you talk to me?”

“Got nothin’ to say that hasn’t already been said.”

“Please, Shane, let me in.”

His head shot up, and he glared.

“I’m not gonna talk to you or anyone else unless I feel the need. And I don’t feel the fuckin’ need.”

“But you were fine one minute and not the next. At least, tell me what happened in the span of a few minutes that has you so rattled.”

“Fine?” he bit out. “I haven’t been fine since you came to town.” He continued to gather wood as he spoke, his body tense, his actions quick and sharp, full of anger.

My resolve to keep my emotions out of helping Shane was slipping fast. I could feel panic rising it its place.

“Shane, I’m worried about—”

“Save your concern for your clients. My only problem is you.”

He was lashing out for some reason, but why?

“Please, let me help you. Or let Max help you. Can’t you see everyone around you is holding out their hand for you to grab hold of? If you don’t deal with this soon, you’ll wake up one day and find your life is behind you, not in front of you. Regret, like guilt, is a bitter pill to swallow.” I could hear the desperation in my voice to reach him.

I must have hit a nerve because Shane dropped the wood in annoyance and stepped over it. Closing the distance between us quickly, he backed me up until I stopped out of sheer force of will. Anger coiled tightly around him, and for the first time since we’d met, his size unnerved me.

“I don’t need savin’. I don’t need help. I just need peace from you.” He crowded me further until I put my palms up to stop him, then he grabbed my arms in both hands and tightened them. “I remember every minute,” he hissed. “The steam. The sweat drippin’ down your back. The fuckin’ taste of you on my lips and the drivin' urge to claim you when I knew I couldn’t give you what you needed. I remember all of it. And. I. Need. Fuckin’ Peace.”

He’d leaned in closer, his face growing harder with each word he spat out about our night together as if it were disgusting instead of the amazing night it was.