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“Not particularly,” I admitted begrudgingly. “It’s not like I’m lying around, bemoaning a guy I was getting feelings for after only a few months.”
“Of course,” she agreed, though her tone made me glance at her suspiciously. “But that doesn’t mean you aren’t hurting…or him for that matter.”
“Oh yes, he seems really torn up about it,” I scoffed, draining the last of my coffee and setting the mug down hard.
Sheila rolled her eyes. “He was all smiles and charm when I saw him earlier, and then he comes in here, and the whole thing shuts down. If it wasn’t for the fact he looked worn out in that hallway, I might not have known there was anything wrong with him…until he came in here and saw you.”
I frowned. “Sheila…”
She ignored me. “Then, all of a sudden, I could see he’s practically worn to the bone. He can barely look you in the eyes and speaks like he’s never turned the charm on in his life. Everything about him I saw before just poof, gone in an instant. Now isn’t that interesting?”
“It is pretty awkward being around one another,” I said with a shrug. “It irritates me that he’s avoiding me, but I’m kinda glad too.”
“It’s not awkward. It’s painful,” she said with an arched brow. “You ask me, he’s avoiding you because it hurts to be around you. And he’s avoiding this house because it’s got both you and his sick, possibly dying mother in it.”
“Noticed how he avoided the subject of her, did you?” I asked wryly.
“Kind of hard to miss,” she chuckled. “As much as I understand your anger and frustration, I think you’re being too hard on him.”
My mouth fell open. “He fucks around with me for months, then drops me like last season’s shoes, and I’m being too hard on him?”
Sheila’s expression hardened, and I slammed my mouth shut as she leaned forward. “Kevin McCully. That man is dealing with his incredibly ill mother, and from what I’ve heard, he’s taking on a lot more responsibility for his family’s generations-long legacy. Then he finds himself getting tied up with someone, and I can’t prove it, but I’m bettin’ he’s never been really tied up with anyone.”
“He’s dated,” I muttered half-heartedly.
“And how well has that worked out for him?” she asked with a snort. “And there’s a difference between datin’ someone and being tied to them, and you damn well know it.”
“Language,” I shot back at her but wasn’t surprised when she chose to ignore me.
“There is a lot on his plate, and he’s not dealin’ with most of it,” she said, glancing sadly toward the back door. “Maybe you should keep that in mind before giving him too much trouble?”
My shoulders slumped, and I stared down at my feet. “I’m being a shit, aren’t I?”
“You are,” she said fondly, stepping around the counter to place a gentle kiss on the top of my head. “But you’ve got a good heart too. Maybe try to listen to it a little more when it comes to him, okay?”
“I tried that.”
“You tried it for yourself, not for him.”
The words stung, and I stared at Sheila in disbelief as she retrieved her coat from the closet. “I-I have been a selfish dick, haven’t I?”
“I’d say you’ve been hurt, and it’s not exactly shocking that someone hurting is going to lash out at the person who hurt them,” she said, pulling on her coat. “Even if that person probably didn’t want to do the hurting in the first place.”
“I still think he’s lying,” I said.
“He just might be,” she admitted, grabbing her purse from the bottom of the closet. “But is now really the time to be dealing with that?”
Sheila gave me a knowing look before turning to walk out, leaving me in the uneasy silence of the kitchen with my thoughts.
* * *
It was just after two in the morning when I finally stepped out onto the back porch and stared out at the backyard. I wasn’t surprised to see the lights in the small cottage were still on. Walking toward the edge of the porch, I peered up to where Sophia’s room was and smiled sadly when I saw a small light in the window.
Her sleep had grown increasingly restless over the past couple of weeks. Even though she could barely do anything, she still refused to simply lay in bed and hope to go back to sleep. Whenever she woke up and couldn’t go back to sleep, she turned on her bedside light and either read or went over something on her tablet. It was often up to me to check, turning off the light whenever she fell asleep with something in her hand.
Knowing my time was growing shorter, I stepped back into the house to pour a fresh cup of coffee. Sliding a lid over the top of the mug, I went back outside and made my way down the path toward the cottage. It had snowed again recently, and it was a sign of just how little Shane had been coming around that the path toward his cottage wasn’t as nearly trampled as it had been a few weeks before.
This time I hesitated before finally reaching up and knocking firmly on the door. I saw a shadow move across the window, and it took longer than usual before the door opened. Shane opened the door, and I felt a pang in my chest at the sight of him. He was still dressed in a now rumpled pair of dark slacks and an even more rumpled button-up shirt. The light from behind him made his face look more drawn than I’d ever seen before, and I noticed his shoulders didn’t straighten until he met my gaze.
