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“Here,” I said, holding the cup out toward him. “It’s probably not as good as Sheila’s brewing skills, but if you’re up this late, you might as well give yourself an extra boost.”
Shane eyed the cup carefully before reaching out to take it. “Thank you…but…”
“But nothing,” I said. “That comes without strings attached.”
His brow arched. “Does that mean there are, in fact, strings somewhere?”
“It means I’d like the chance to talk to you,” I said softly.
He scoffed. “I think we’ve said quite enough, don’t you?”
I felt the flare of annoyance die at the weary expression on his face. “Perhaps, but there’s something else I need to say. The way I spoke the last time was…not how I would have preferred to do things. And if it makes you feel any better, it’s not about…us.”
I waited for him to tell me there had been no ‘us’ and braced. Shane looked me over for a few seconds before stepping out of the doorway. “Then come in. I suppose any distraction is better than staring at these reports for much longer. I have no idea how my mother did this day in and day out. I feel as if my brain is trying to leak out of my ears.”
I chuckled. “I can’t say I blame you.”
Shane motioned to the living room. “I suppose you should probably sit down.”
I took the offer, taking the same chair I’d used the last time. “Before I start, I need you to do me a favor.”
“If it’s not unreasonable, I can’t see why not,” Shane said, easing himself down onto the couch.
I looked around, memories of the hours I’d spent in this little cottage with him tugging at the back of my mind. How it had been to see him so at ease, with a genuine smile and a soft chuckle as he talked to me. To feel his hands on my hips or his lips on my neck. The time we’d spent simply being around one another, being ourselves, being us.
“You let me say my piece,” I said, turning my gaze and attention away from the room and its echoes. “You don’t try to interrupt me or speak over me. You let me get out what I need to get out, okay?”
“Just so long as this isn’t about…”
“It isn’t,” I interrupted. “Don’t get me wrong, part of me still thinks you’re lying. Part of me still firmly believes you said all that to get away from your real feelings about you and me. Maybe I could even take a few educated guesses as to why, but I promise, that’s not why I came here tonight.”
Shane’s expression had tightened through much of that explanation, and I waited until he was ready to speak again. After several heartbeats, his face relaxed, and he gave a nod. “Alright, then I’ll let you speak.”
“Good,” I said, rolling my shoulders and preparing to lay out what I’d told myself needed to be said tonight. “First off, I want to apologize. Not just for the way I acted that night, but also for how I’ve been acting since.”
Shane frowned. “I don’t expect…”
I raised a hand, cutting him off. “Let me say my piece, remember? I apologize just in case you were telling me the truth that night,” he frowned again, but I continued before he could interrupt. “Then I reacted childishly to what would have been a perfectly reasonable and fair decision on your part…and then continued to act that way.”
Shane’s jaw tightened, then relaxed. “Okay, is there more?”
“And if you were being a dirty liar, then that’s something we can deal with at a later date,” I added, simply because I refused to leave that subject completely dead. I moved quickly to cut him off again, however. “But the real reason I’m sorry and came here is because…you’re clearly hurting, scared, and confused.”
“This again?” he asked in a low voice.
I recognized the warning and chose to ignore it, pushing forward softly. “I’m also sorry I called you a coward. You’re not a coward, Shane, you have every right to be scared. I’ve only known her for a handful of months, and it’s…God, it’s horrible seeing her like this. I can’t imagine what it must be like for you, the man who has known her your whole life, to watch Sophia Perkins become…my sick patient.”
His jaw tightened, his gaze darted away, and I knew I was onto something. The confirmation, and his continued silence, were enough for me to keep pushing forward. “You have every right to those feelings, but…”
His head snapped back toward me, eyes flashing. “But? What but is there?”
“But you’re grieving for a woman who isn’t dead,” I told him gently. “Who’s up there, right now, sick and scared.”
“I’m not sure my mother knows the meaning of fear,” he muttered, and I could see the anger was already draining out of him.
“Your mother is tougher than the vast majority of people I know,” I admitted. “But that’s not the same thing as being fearless. She’s not immune to being afraid of the reality of her own mortality. I think, just like you, she never really considered the idea it would get this bad, that she would be skirting the line between life and death so much.”
“My mother has cancer, and you assume I never considered the possibility she could die?” he asked me dryly.
