Faithless: A Salvation Society Novel

by Megan Green

  His lips set into a hard line. “Still. It wasn’t fair of me to treat you the way I did. So, I’m sorry.”

  I smile. “Well, then apology accepted, if unnecessary.”

  “That’s actually not what I wanted to apologize for, though.”

  “Oh? So you’re not sorry for being a total dick? Your words, not mine,” I quickly add when his eyes shoot to mine.

  He grins. “Okay, that’s not all I wanted to apologize for then.”

  I quirk a brow at him, letting him know I’m waiting for him to continue.

  “I wanted to say I’m sorry for how I acted at the aquarium the other day.”

  Oh.

  “You were fine—” I start, but he holds up a hand to cut me off.

  “No, I wasn’t. And I know you noticed. It’s just… it’s still hard for me, you know? Things with Lissy are still so fresh, and with everything that happened between you two… I just don’t want to feel like I’m disrespecting her memory, I guess.”

  “Shane, you don’t have to explain to me. I understand.”

  “You shouldn’t have to though. You’ve given me no reason not to believe you have only my girls’ best interests at heart. You’re nothing at all like how Felicity described you. You’re kind. You’re charming. You’re… good. I guess I just realized that a little too sincerely at the aquarium. And it scared me.”

  “Scared you?” My face falls at the words. How had I scared him?

  “I wasn’t expecting to like you so much, Kate. Not as like… I’m not trying to hit on you or anything. Not that you’re not beautiful… fuck, this is coming out all wrong.”

  I reach across and place my hand over his. “It’s okay, Shane. I like you, too. As a friend.”

  Relief floods his features. “Friend. Yes, that’s what I was trying to say.”

  “It is a rather complicated word. I’m not surprised someone like you couldn’t think of it.”

  His mouth falls open, a smile tugging at his cheeks as he attempts to feign shock. “Why, Ms. Mitchell. Are you saying I’m unfriendly?”

  “Not at all. It’s totally normal for a man to wear a stamp that says fuck off across his forehead.”

  His fingers lift to rub the tanned skin above his brow, and I’m once again struck by just how handsome Shane Dempsey is. Years of hard labor out in the sun should have left his skin thick and leathery. But instead, he has just enough defined lines and color to make him even more rugged and appealing.

  Friends, Kate. He’s your friend.

  “So, how long are you planning on sticking around?”

  I purse my lips. “Why? You sick of me already?”

  He shakes his head, a momentary flash of panic crossing his eyes. “No, no. I was just wondering. You know, for the girls’ sake.”

  Right. The girls. Not because he wants to spend more time with you.

  I shrug. “My boss told me to take as much time as I need. I can pretty much do my job from anywhere, so as long as I keep the stories coming, she’s not too concerned about when I get back to the office.”

  “So you’ve been working while here in Virginia Beach?”

  I think back to my failed attempt at writing earlier this morning and afternoon. Well, trying to anyway.

  But instead of trying to explain my struggles with writer’s block to Shane, I simply nod. “Perk of being kickass at your job, I guess.”

  “I’d like to read some of your work sometime. Lissy never told me you were a reporter.”

  Sadness floods through me at that. Because I wasn’t sure if Lissy had known and chosen not to discuss me with her husband, or if she really hadn’t cared enough to keep tabs on me like I did her.

  Had she really not wanted to know what I’d been up to all those years we’d been apart?

  Something told me I wouldn’t like the answer to that question.

  Shane seems to sense the edge in the air that’s developed between us, because he clears his throat, looking unsure as to what to say next.

  “So tell me a little more about you,” I say, saving him the effort of trying to pick a topic.

  “What do you want to know?”

  I lift one shoulder. “I don’t know. I gather you were in the military. What branch?”

  “I was a SEAL.”

  “Umm, what?” I ask, picturing him dressed in a brown rubbery costume and barking for fish.

  “A Navy SEAL. Sea, Air, and Land Teams.”

  “Oh. So like… you’re pretty badass then?”

  He chuckles lightly. “I mean, not to toot my own horn, but… yeah. We’re pretty badass.”

  “Did you like it?”

  “No. I lived for it. Being a SEAL was the only thing I ever wanted to do.”

  “So why’d you quit?”

  A pained expression crosses his face. “Didn’t really have a choice.”

  I’m about to ask what he means when he lifts one of his pant legs a few inches, showing me the exact reason the choice was taken from him.

  “Oh my God,” I whisper, my eyes darting from the prosthetic to his face. “I had no idea.”

  He nods. “Roadside IED. We were lucky. Went off a few seconds before our hummer would’ve driven straight over the top of it. A lot of us were injured, but nobody was killed.”

  “Thank God for that,” I say, flabbergasted by the ordeal he’d endured.

  Shane scoffs. “Thank man-made technology and safety features is more like it.”

  My brow furrows, the words on the tip of my tongue to ask what he means, but something in his hard expression tells me to let it go.

  “So you walk with that thing?” I ask, nodding down to his leg once again.

  He pins me with an amused stare. “Well, I don’t exactly fly.”

  I realize too late how stupid the question sounded. Of course he walks with it. I just watched him do it on the way over here.

  “Sorry, I just meant… you walk so normally. I never would’ve guessed you were missing a limb.”

  Shane shrugs. “It’s been a few years since the injury. I’ve had a lot of practice.”

  “Does it still hurt?”

  He nods. “Every damn day. I’ve learned to live with it though. Most of the time I barely notice it.”

  I give him an impressed look. “You really are a badass.”

  He releases another loud booming laugh.

  “So what do you do now that you’re out of the military?” I ask, wanting to know more about him.

  “I work for Cole Security. My father’s friends, Jackson and Mark, have owned and operated it since before I was born.”

  “And what exactly does Cole Security do?” Something told me they weren’t rent-a-cops at the mall.

  “We’re a military-grade security force. We provide security to high profile clients all over the world.”

  “Anybody I would know?”

  He cocks a brow at me.

  “Ah,” I say, nodding my head. “I guess that means it’s classified?”

  “I’d tell you, but then I’d have to kill you,” he responds with a wink.

  “How very James Bond of you.” I flash him a cheesy grin.

  “Dempsey, my dear. Shane Dempsey.”

  I laugh, wiping at the wetness that forms in the corners of my eyes. It feels good. I can’t remember the last time I laughed like this.

  Shane recites a few more lines from famous Bond movies—although, now that I think about it, I’m not sure the whole I’d tell you but then I’d have to kill you thing even came from a Bond flick—but it’s so funny I can’t bring myself to stop him. Once he’s finished and we’re both thoroughly laughed out, we sit back against the bench and turn our focus on the girls.

  They’ve been playing on the enormous playground set the entire time we’ve been talking, and even though it’s felt like his attention has been solely on me, I know he’s kept one eye on his daughters the entire time.

  I’m not sure if that’s a parent thing, a military thing, or just a Shane Demp
sey thing, but it impresses the hell out of me how he’s able to give his attention to multiple things so completely.

  Gracie giggles as she waits for Ellie at the end of a slide, her arms outstretched as if she’s going to catch her sister. When Ellie comes barreling down the tunnel and crashes into her, my heart briefly stops, waiting for the tears that are surely about to start.

  But instead, they both laugh as they climb to their feet, brushing the sawdust off their clothes and taking off in a tear for the ladder back to the top.

  “I’m sure going to miss them when I have to go back to work,” Shane says, his tone laced with sadness.

  “When do you go back?”

  “Next week. I know it’ll only be a few hours after school each evening, but I hate the idea of sending them to a sitter. Especially so soon after…”

  He doesn’t finish the thought. But he doesn’t need to.

  After Felicity’s death.

  An idea springs to my mind, and before I can even give it a second thought, the words come spilling out past my lips.

  “I could take care of the girls after school for a bit. That way they could be in their own home, at least.”

  Shane’s eyes flash to mine, and I briefly wonder if I’ve made a mistake. He apologized for the way he acted the other day, but maybe this was taking things too far. Leaving me alone, in his house, with his children, is a far cry away from meeting up for ice cream.

  But only a second goes by before Shane nods.

  “I’d like that. I think the girls would, too.”

  I smile as we both turn back to watch Gracie come shooting out of the bottom of the slide.

  This day has turned out a million times better than I could have ever imagined.

  Chapter Nine

  Shane

  “Son of a bitch,” I mutter under my breath as my phone chimes from my pocket. I drop the spoon I’d been stirring my coffee with into the sink before reaching into my pocket and silencing the phone.

  I don’t bother looking at who it is, choosing instead to take a sip of my coffee as I lean back against the break room counter.

  “Damn, Deej. You’re a popular guy today. You got a little somethin’ somethin’ going on on the side?” Mark asks, waggling his eyebrows at me.

  I roll my eyes and flip him the bird. “Trust me, Twilight. If I had time for anything other than my girls and this fucking place, I’d spend it sleeping.”

  “Bo-ring,” he says, emphasizing the last syllable. It reminds me of something Gracie would do, and I can’t help but bring this to his attention.

  He shrugs after I tell him he sounds like my six-year-old daughter. “Is that supposed to be an insult? That little girl is the shit. You wish you were half that cool.”

  He has me there. As far as kids go, mine are pretty much the best.

  I open my mouth to retort, but before the first word can even leave my lips, my phone blares again.

  My shoulders slump, my chin falling forward against my chest.

  “You sure you don’t wanna get that?” Mark asks, his brow cocked as he looks me up and down.

  With a loud exhale, I pull my phone from my pocket, the name on the screen coming as no surprise.

  Mark slides my way, craning his neck to see who’s been pestering me all day. “Who’s Debbie?”

  “Mother-in-law,” is the only answer I give.

  Mark holds up his hands, backing away slowly. “Say no more. I’ll leave you to it, then.” He takes two slow steps before turning and bolting from the company break room.

  Dude has never even met this woman, and even he’s afraid of her.

  Knowing I only have a few seconds before the call clicks over to voice mail—which would only prompt the nine hundred and second call of the day—I slide my thumb across the screen and press it to my ear.

  “Hey, Debbie. How are you today?” I try to sound chipper, like her calling me in the middle of the workday isn’t the fucking nuisance that it is.

  “Oh, Shane. I’ve been calling and calling you all afternoon.”

  Really? I hadn’t noticed, I think dryly.

  Rather than try to come up with an excuse as to why I’ve been ducking her calls, I simply ask, “What can I do for you, Debbie?”

  My question seems to catch her off guard, but she only falters for a second before she gets right to it.

  “I was wondering if I could pick up the girls from school this afternoon. It’s been over a week since I’ve seen them, and I’m missing them something fierce.”

  “Oh, uh…” I stammer, unsure of how to respond to her request. Kate is supposed to be picking the girls up this afternoon. It’s my third day back at work, and so far, Kate staying with Gracie and Ellie after school has been a dream come true. The guilt I thought I’d feel at leaving them on their own while I completed my shifts is nowhere to be found. By the time I get home from work each night, Kate has taken care of their after school snacks, played with them both, and gotten Gracie started on her homework. Hell, last night she’d even gone as far as to get dinner started for me. Sure, it had only been pre-heating the oven and throwing in one of the many casseroles in my freezer from my well-meaning neighbors. But it had been a nice surprise to come home to.

  Something told me telling my mother-in-law all this wouldn’t exactly go over well though. As far as I know, she and Kurt don’t even know Kate is back in town.

  I make a mental note to ask Kate about it when I see her this evening. I need to know exactly how much I can say to her parents about her sudden appearance in our lives without sticking my foot in my mouth.

  For now, I go with making something up. “I wish you could, Debbie, but I promised Aarabelle she could take the girls this afternoon. They’ve been begging for an auntie play date all week.”

  “Oh,” she says, and the disappointment in her tone causes a flicker of guilt deep in my gut. I hate lying to anyone, let alone the grandmother of my children.

  “How about tomorrow? Does that work for you? I know the girls would love to see you, too,” I say, hoping that last little bit pleases her.

  “Oh, well, alright. I suppose tomorrow will have to do. Listen, Shane. I’ve been meaning to ask you…there was this necklace of Lissy’s. It meant—”

  I place my fingers over the mic on my phone, taking extra care to ensure she can hear the motion.

  “What’s that?” I holler to nobody. “Yeah, I’ll be right there.” Removing my hand, I go back to a now silent Debbie.

  “Sorry, Debbie. I hate to cut this short, but my boss needs me in his office. I’ll call you later and work out the details for the girls tomorrow, okay?”

  A loud sigh echoes through the phone, but I know she’s not going to argue. This is my livelihood after all. I can’t very well take care of her granddaughters if I don’t have a job, now can I?

  “Okay, Shane. I’ll talk to you later.”

  I hang up before she has a chance to say another word.

  Guilt once again eats at me for not letting her finish her request. But in the short amount of time since Felicity’s death, the woman has asked me for no less than a dozen of Lissy’s most beloved possessions. I get that she’s upset. That she’s mourning the loss of her daughter. But if I don’t start drawing the line somewhere, she’s going to end up with my entire house.

  Mark walks past the door of the break room then, pausing when he sees me still in my spot against the counter.

  “You off the phone?”

  I hold up my empty hands, wiggling my fingers for emphasis.

  “Good. I need your help. Come with me.”

  Six hours and a million attempts at explaining current technology to Mark later, I pull up in front of my house, my head pounding after the long, exasperating day.

  Mark Dixon might be a genius in a lot of ways, but computers definitely aren’t his thing. At least, not anymore. He’d had an idea for a new security software a few months back, but his sixty-year-old ass just doesn’t have the brain capacity to
implement it. He blames the technological advances of the last decade. I blame senility just to piss him off.

  I sit in the truck for a moment, lapping up the last few seconds of silence I’ll get until bedtime. Don’t get me wrong, I love my girls more than life itself. But on days like today…

  The loss of my wife suddenly rushes through me, overwhelming me with its intensity. On days like today, she’d let me retreat to the den for an hour or two while she got dinner ready, making sure the girls stayed quiet while I wound down from the struggles of my day. By the time dinner was on the table, I’d be feeling a hundred times better, able to spend the remainder of the evening with the girls while Felicity enjoyed some much-needed me time.

  I hadn’t appreciated those evenings nearly as much as I should have. I’d taken Felicity’s presence for granted, the idea of her someday not being around never once crossing my mind.

  Things between the two of us might not have been the greatest romantically. But you couldn’t deny that we made a hell of a team.

  Climbing from the truck, I start running through the list of possibilities for dinner as I approach the front door. I briefly hope that maybe Kate has thrown another casserole in for me, but I know that it isn’t fair of me to expect that every night. Besides, the girls have to be getting sick of eating slightly different versions of the same three dishes over and over again. I know I sure am.

  Pushing open the front door, I open my mouth to call for my daughters when I’m hit square in the face with the most delicious smell I’ve ever experienced. Forgetting all about my greeting for Gracie and Ellie, I pivot and make a beeline for the kitchen.

  I’m met by the sight of two little girls and one grown woman, flour coating each of them nearly head to toe, every square inch of my small kitchen a disaster of epic proportion, and enormous smiles plastered on each of their faces.

  At the sound of my entrance, Gracie turns to greet me. “Hi, Daddy! We’re making dinner!”

  I laugh at the large swatch of flour in the center of her forehead, a swipe of red sauce smeared across one cheek. “I can see that. And what exactly are we making?”