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Chapter 22
After her shower, Liberty felt a bit better. She put on her jammies and got her afghan blanket. Now warm and comfortable, she went to the kitchen to make herself some herbal tea.
Tom sat at the table. There were already two cups of tea made for them.
“Thank you,” she said in relief.
Tom shrugged and took a gulp from his own cup. “Grandma’s cure is truly a cure.”
She sat and picked up the tea, taking a little sip. “Are you good?” She felt weak and tired, but she wanted to know about her brother.
He gave her a wan smile. “I actually think I’m better than you tonight.”
She couldn’t help but laugh at his bad joke. “Yes, I think you might be.”
“At least you’re not shaking anymore.” He reached out and put a hand over hers.
“It all seems to be connected, and I hate it so much.” She kept her voice steady, not wanting to relive all those emotions. “But I’m glad you’re here.”
Tom’s lips quirked up. He pulled his hand back. “I guess I missed the party, but I am here. Merry Christmas, sis. Though I don’t like the sound of Mr. Banks.”
“Yeah.”
He took her hand. “It’s okay. We’ll be okay.”
She looked up at the clock. It was eleven-thirty. It felt like it had been three days combined into one. A lot like those early days after the accident. “I guess it is still Christmas. Merry Christmas.”
There was a sharp knock at the side door, and both of them jumped.
Her brother was instantly out of his chair. “Who could it be?” He peered through the peephole.
“Don’t answer it.” She got to her feet, wishing she had taken the gun that Trent had offered her.
Tom frowned, then told her, “It’s the guy from California.” He began unlocking the door.
Her heart raced. She knew who it was. “Shane?”
Her brother pulled the door open, and there was Shane, wearing a leather jacket, sneakers, and a Southern Cal hat.
Shane looked nervous. “I didn’t want you to be alone for Christmas.” He glanced between her brother and her, putting a hand to his head. “And I guess you’re not. I feel so stupid.”
Compassion softened her as she thought of his situation, losing his wife to breast cancer five years ago. “Shane.” She moved to the door and waved him in. “Come in. I can’t believe this.”
Shane came in, and Tom introduced himself.
She didn’t even know what to say, but her manners kicked in. “Thanks for coming.” She gave him what she intended to be a quick hug, but he kept her against him and did something she wasn’t expecting.
Shane pressed his lips to hers.
