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Shane doesn’t seem to hear him. He’s busy opening his drawing pad again, turning a new page.
“Hey, you sure your back is okay?” Manon comes to stand in front of him, smoothing her hands over her old-fashioned black dress. “Will you be all right?”
He nods, a sharp dip of his head. He glances up quickly, mouth tipping up in a faint smile. “Thanks.”
Manon beams as if he’s done something extraordinary. She’s so cute.
Then again, come to think of it, Shane’s smiles are a rare sight.
And it’s gone just as quickly. He frowns as he drags the pencil over the paper, about to dive into another creative trance and get lost in his world. His nightmare.
What is it about this boy? Why don’t I want to leave him?
Okay, that’s a no-brainer, Cass. He’s smoking hot. Of course you want to stay right here with him and pet him until he pets you back.
Yeah.
But I feel as if he needs us here, and what does that mean? I watch him draw, those dark brows drawn together, that full mouth pressed into a line, long hair falling in his face in shiny sheets.
What if deep inside he wants us to stay, but won’t say it? What if his pride, his stubbornness won’t let him?
It doesn’t matter, though, I think as I uncurl from his sofa and grab my coat. I’m no expert in what people need and want. See what happened last time I thought I knew better and decided to give it to them without heeding their refusal. See what happened with Jesse Lee.
Yes, I’m the last person on earth to force my company on Shane if he says he doesn’t want it.
***
After Shane’s, I ask Seth and Manon to drive me home. Normally I’d have them drop me off at one of my favorite bars and spend the night dancing and drinking—or following a hunk home for some fun times.
But I don’t feel like it lately, even less tonight after leaving Shane’s apartment.
Making myself a cup of hot cocoa, I sprawl on my couch and turn on the TV. Guess I’ll veg out in front of the set instead. I don’t even want to watch anything, just need some background noise. I hate being alone. The quiet makes my thoughts too loud.
I wonder if it’s the same for Shane.
God, Cass. I put down my cocoa and change the channel to yet another boring show. Stop thinking about Shane.
Hard to do, though, when I was right beside him, touching him and talking to him not half an hour ago. Can’t forget how worried I was when Seth paled after answering his phone and parked the car haphazardly by the side of the road to focus on the call. When he said there had been an accident at the construction site where Shane works. That Shane was hurt.
How relieved I was later when I saw Shane beside Seth as they returned to the car, upright and moving under his own steam. So freaking glad he was okay.
This is dangerous territory. Unstable ground. I’ve never worried so much about someone except my brother, Angel, and since then I’d promised to myself to keep my distance, keep my heart safe.
How is Shane doing that, getting through all my defenses? While he sat there, sketching, the others eating pizza and talking about Zane and Dakota’s upcoming wedding, I was dying to put my arms around him, rest my head on that broad chest.
God, he’s beautiful. And he’s in pain. Not just from his fall today, though from the way he held himself I could tell his back hurt, but from all that anger he’s desperately trying to keep in check.
Why? What happened to him? What isn’t Seth telling me about his half-brother? Every time I’ve asked him about Shane, needing to know about his past, anything about me, he’s refused to talk.
And here I go again, thinking I can tell how Shane feels, believing I somehow see more than others can.
Jesus, Cass. Haven’t you learned anything these past months? Talk about arrogance.
Grabbing my cell phone from my purse, I toy with it, the need to talk to someone about Shane so strong I don’t know what to do with myself. Who, though? Manon and Seth are out of the question, and I’m not that close to the others.
Ev? We used to be close, and she was nice to me the other day at Halo, but still not sure she’d appreciate me calling to ask questions and confide my doubts to her right now. Besides, she’s probably out with Micah, having fun. It is Saturday evening.
Why didn’t I go out, too? I’m starting to regret it now, alone with the voices in my head, with the insecurity, the loneliness, the void trying to swallow me. Telling me I’m not good enough for anyone, not interesting, not lovable, that I’ll end up living my days in a dark room, with myself as the only company.
