by Toni Aleo
Shane blinked, waiting for the door to slam shut in his face. He must be seeing things. There was no way she could be happy to see him. No way she could be standing there, smiling at him. Maybe she didn't recognize him. Maybe she was simply too stunned to see him on the doorstep, his mouth gaping in surprise.
But the door didn't slam closed, and her smile stayed in place. And yes, she did recognize him, he saw it in the depths of those piercing green eyes. Dark green, fringed in lush lashes. Witch's eyes that haunted his dreams at night, even now. Even after all this time.
"Chloe." Her name tumbled from his lips, his voice strangled and a little choked. Her smile grew a little wider, the small dimple in her left cheek making a brief appearance.
"Shane." There was no surprise in her voice, no hint of the anger or betrayal she must certainly be feeling. There was only warmth, welcoming and comforting.
She ran a hand through her dark hair, giving him a glimpse of the green highlights scattered throughout the long strands, then stepped back and held the door wider. "Are you going to stand out there all night until you turn into a popsicle, or are you going to come inside?"
He stepped inside, felt the years melt away as he scanned the familiar entranceway. The hand-hewn bench shoved against the wall, coats and scarves hanging from wooden pegs just above it. The small table placed just to the right of the door and the blue marble bowl filled with change, a smaller bowl in front of it holding carelessly tossed keys.
And the pictures. So many pictures. Candid shots and formal portraits, all framed in varying shades and styles of wood, taking up nearly every inch of available wall space to his left.
Shane pulled his gaze from the pictures, afraid to look at them too closely. Afraid he'd see the one with Wyatt and Chloe and him, back when they were teenagers. They'd been having a monster snowball battle and had called a truce long enough to come inside for hot chocolate at Mrs. Hunter's insistence—but not before she snapped the picture. The three of them had their arms draped over each other's shoulders, their faces red from the cold, their smiles as bright as the winter sun reflecting off the snow as they faced the camera.
No, he wasn't afraid he'd see the picture—he was afraid he wouldn't see it. That it had been removed, tossed out like the garbage he'd become.
The door closed behind him and he turned, jumping with guilt. Could Chloe tell? Maybe, maybe not. She'd always been able to see past his cocky attitude, had always been able to push past his external barriers. But that was years ago, before life had sent all three of them into a tailspin.
"I didn't think you were going to show up."
Her words made him pause. He frowned at her, confusion keeping him off-balance. "How did you know I was even coming?"
"Because I called Aunt Liz to invite you. How else?"
"Oh. I, uh..." His voice trailed off as he struggled to find the right words—any words. Chloe had called to invite him? Aunt Liz hadn't told him that. She hadn't told him much of anything, except to insist he come here tonight.
To insist it was time for him to put the past behind him.
Shane looked away from those piercing green eyes and finally shrugged out of the heavy coat, juggling the wrapped gift from one hand to the other as he did so. Chloe just stood there, not offering to help, watching him with a frown as he hung his coat over another one above the bench.
She stared at him long enough that he started to squirm, long enough that he finally turned and frowned right back at her. "What?"
"Where's your sweater?"
Shane looked down at his outfit. Faded jeans. Expensive exotic skin boots. A dark green button-down flannel shirt. "What sweater?"
"It's an Ugly Christmas Sweater party. You're supposed to be wearing an ugly sweater." She waved a hand in front of her, motioning to her own sweater.
"I didn't know. Aunt Liz didn't explain that." Or had she? Shane had done his best to ignore everything she'd told him about the party tonight, positive he wasn't going to be attending. He'd forgotten how insistent Aunt Liz could be, how easily she could bend people to her will once she made up her mind.
"Well, at least you brought a present for the white elephant gift exchange." Chloe finally took the wrapped gift from his hand, playfully shaking it like she was trying to figure out what was inside. "Besides, Mom has extra sweaters for everyone. Don't say I didn't warn you."
A jolt of surprise—of heat and of wanting—shot through Shane when she reached down and took his hand, her slender fingers threading with his. Just like old times. Just like before, when they had been together. A couple. Inseparable.
When he'd been certain they would always be together.
But that had been before. Before life had changed in the blink of an eye. Before dreams had been shattered and lives irrevocably changed.
Before he'd fucked up everything.
Did Chloe feel the way he stiffened under her touch? Could she sense his hesitation? His confusion? If she did, she ignored it. She simply offered him another wide smile, the dimple playing hide-and-seek in her cheek as she tugged him forward.
Leading him from the entranceway and into the large family room filled with people.
Bringing him face-to-face with the mistakes of his past.
Chapter Two
Chloe tightened her fingers around Shane's, surprised at the flare of heat spreading throughout her just from that brief touch. She squelched the yearning growing deep inside her, wondered if he could feel the way her fingers trembled against his.
Or if he simply thought his fingers were the only ones trembling.
For the same reason hers were? From excitement and desire. From feelings long forgotten. From the memory of the way they used to walk like this, hand-in-hand. Like it was second nature, something neither one of them gave a second thought to.
Until it was too late.
Until they stopped touching. Stopped talking. Just...stopped.
She tamped down the memories, calling herself a fool for letting them wash over her, even for that brief moment. She couldn't make the mistake of reading into things where Shane was concerned. And if his fingers really were trembling, it wasn't because of a brief escape into the past. At least, not their past. He was nervous, hesitant. Wasn't sure what he was doing here, why he'd come.
Wasn't sure if he'd be welcomed.
She had the same uncertainty as she tugged him into the family room then stood there, waiting for everyone else to notice them. Christmas music played in the background, competing for attention with the movie playing on the large flat screen television and the laughing conversation filling the large room. Family and friends sat on every available surface: chairs and sofa and loveseat, the stone hearth in front of the fireplace, even the plank wood floor. Twenty people were crammed into the normally spacious room, family and friends gathered together to celebrate the holidays. To celebrate each other.
Only two other people knew Shane was coming tonight: her parents. Her mother had been supportive, her father cautiously indifferent. Chloe had been hesitant to tell them, afraid they'd tell her no. Afraid they wouldn't want him here. But she couldn't just surprise them, couldn't invite Shane behind their backs and risk his showing up creating tension.
Not that she didn't expect tension—she did. Chloe might be the dreamer of the family but she still had both feet firmly planted in reality. But having her parents support her half-baked plan would help alleviate some of the tension that would surely happen. Maybe just a minuscule piece of it, but that was better than nothing.
At least, that was her hope. The reality could be totally different.
But it was time. Past time. More than five years had gone by. They all needed this. Her mom and dad. Her brother, Wyatt. Shane.
And she needed it, too. Maybe just as much as her brother did. Maybe even more, but for totally different reasons. The way her fingers trembled, the way her heart raced in her chest, told her that much.
Chloe cleared her throat, finally getting the at
tention of a few people in the room. Conversation slowly died as, one-by-one, everyone turned to look at her.
At Shane.
The music was suddenly too loud, the sound of the laugh-track blaring from the television almost ear-splitting in the sudden absence of conversation. And oh God, this was harder than she thought it would be, standing here with Shane as every eye in the room focused on them.
Chloe's hand tightened around Shane's, holding him in place when she sensed he was ready to turn around and leave. To run and hide. To disappear for another five years. Not this time. Not if she had anything to say about it.
She pasted a bright smile on her face, her gaze quickly scanning the shocked faces staring back at her. She briefly met her mother's concerned eyes, her father's cautious gaze. But it was Wyatt she was most worried about. Her brother—older by three minutes and twelve seconds. Her twin, although they looked nothing alike. He was light where she was dark, his blonde hair and fair skin coming from their mother. Chloe was the exact opposite, her own black hair and medium complexion coming from her father. But Wyatt's eyes were the same as hers: dark green, fringed with thick black lashes. And right now, those eyes were focused on her with such an expression of intense betrayal that she nearly staggered backward.
Oddly enough, it was Shane who gave her the courage to stay where she was, to stare down her brother. Wyatt may have been her twin, but it was Shane who had been her better half.
Until five years ago, when everything changed.
Shane squeezed her hand, giving her silent encouragement. Or maybe he was trying to give her a silent message, telling her to let go, to let him leave.
No. Not now. It was time for this to come to an end. Time to put it behind them. The pain. The anger. The resentment. All of it.
She tightened her hold on his fingers, ignoring the way Wyatt stared at their clasped hands, and took a few cautious steps into the family room. "Hey everyone. Look. It's Shane. Does everyone remember Shane?"
It was the wrong thing to say. Chloe knew it as soon as the words left her mouth, knew it before she heard Shane's soft swearing behind her. Of course, everyone remembered Shane. How could they not?
It was her mother who finally broke the awful tension that choked the air from the room. She rose to her feet, a small smile on her face as she closed the distance between them. There was no hesitation in her steps as she approached Shane, no hesitation at all when she wrapped her slim arms around him and leaned up to place a quick kiss against his stubbled cheek.
"Shane. It's so good to see you." She stepped back, wiped a hand across her eyes, then raked him from head-to-toe and back again. "Just look at you. You've gotten so big, I almost don't recognize you."
She pulled him into another hug, this one harder than the first. Shane's arms reluctantly went around her waist, hugging her back as his gaze darted to Chloe. Her heart broke, just a little, when she saw the expression in their dark depths. Wariness. Regret. Sorrow. Hope.
Chloe pulled her lower lip between her teeth and bit down, blinking away the moisture burning her eyes. She sucked in a deep breath, forced another smile to her face, then turned back to the room. Conversations had resumed, a little lower at first, as if people weren't quite sure how to react. Then, as the seconds ticked into minutes, the suffocating tension finally eased, forgotten as the world slowly righted itself.
Except for Wyatt. He sat there, his narrowed gaze pinning her in place with anger and betrayal. She took a step toward him, stopped when he abruptly turned away from her and resumed his conversation with the elderly couple from next door.
But she didn't miss his unspoken words, didn't miss his silent admonishment.
How could you do this to me? You had no right.
Her hands curled into fists, her nails biting into the flesh of her palms. Damn him. She wanted to go over and smack him upside the head. Reach down and grab his shoulders and shake him until the good sense God gave him finally settled into that thick skull of his.
It had been five years. Five long years. And he had moved on. Found a new life. Recovered and healed as much as possible.
Except for the rift between Shane and him. The rift that still ate a dark hole in his soul, a hole that threatened to swallow him up if he wasn't careful. Anger. Resentment. Bitterness. It was so thick, still choking him after all this time. Chloe could feel it, could taste it, every time something happened to remind him of that horrifying day. It wasn't getting better, it was getting worse.
Didn't Wyatt understand that he'd never completely heal until he was able to confront the past? To come to terms with it? To face the demons that constantly haunted him in the shape of Shane Masters and finally put them to rest? For better or worse, whether they made amends or not, Wyatt had to face him.
That was why she'd come up with this plan. Why she had talked to Shane's aunt and asked for her help. Why she had gotten her parents to agree. For Wyatt. So he could finally heal. So he could finally move on.
At least, that's what she had told herself. But after seeing Shane, after feeling all the old emotions come rushing back, she wasn't so sure.
And God help them all if it turned out she had put this plan in motion for all the wrong reasons.
Chapter Three
The party showed no signs of slowing down. How much longer before he could leave? How much longer could he pretend to ignore the questioning glances and thick tension?
Shane glanced at his watch, swallowed a groan then went back to pretending he was listening to sweet Mrs. Marilyn drone on and on about her husband's odd Christmas-morning rituals. Her husband was nowhere in sight, having passed on twelve years ago. Shane wasn't sure if Mrs. Marilyn realized that and wondered again if he'd been seated here, next to her, as a form of punishment.
Or maybe he'd been seated here because sweet Mrs. Marilyn was the only one who didn't seem to remember who he was. What he'd done.
How badly he had fucked up every life he'd ever touched.
Shane snuck a glance across the room, his gaze landing on Chloe. She was up to something, he knew it. Never mind that five years had gone by, never mind that they had both changed—he could still tell when she was up to something, and not just because of the furtive glances she kept sending his way.
He frowned, trying to figure it out. Not that he needed to think too hard, not when it was obvious to everyone except sweet Mrs. Marilyn. Chloe was meddling, trying to patch things up between Wyatt and him. What he didn't understand was why. Why now, after all this time? Why now, when she must know it was an impossible task? Things would never be the same again. Shane knew it. Wyatt knew it. Everyone in this room knew it.
But it was easier to search for the reasons behind her meddling than it was to wonder what Chloe had been up to these past five years. She was even more beautiful than he remembered, the most beautiful girl he'd ever known, with her inner light and love of life. There was no ring on her finger and he didn't understand why. As much as the thought of her being with anyone else slayed something deep inside him, he didn't understand why she was still single.
Then again, maybe she wasn't. Maybe there was some boyfriend somewhere, waiting for her to return home. Waiting to bask in Chloe's warm smile and infectious laughter. Waiting for the searing heat of her touch against skin flushed with desire. Waiting to feel—
Shane swallowed a groan and dropped his gaze to the hardwood floor. No. He had no business thinking of Chloe like that. No business remembering the feel of skin pressed against skin. He'd lost that right five years ago, when he'd made a coward's escape and slithered away in the middle of the night. Not that it had mattered by then. Things had already changed between them, had come to a slow death at the hands of regret and resentment.
Shane felt eyes on him, their stare chilling him. He glanced up, his gaze meeting Wyatt's for a long second before he looked away. More regret. More resentment. Cold. Bitter.
Yet nothing less than what he deserved.
Wyatt had been surprise
d to see him. No, more than surprised. He'd been angry. Furious. And he hadn't bothered to hide it, not at first. Even now, two hours later, he made sure to let Shane know he wasn't welcome here. He wasn't obvious about it, made sure nobody else was watching when he flung those visual daggers in Shane's direction.
When Mrs. Hunter had brought dessert out for everyone.
When Shane had been asked about his life in Baltimore and how he liked playing for the Banners.
When Mr. Hunter had asked about Aunt Liz and Uncle Charles and gone out of his way to invite them over for the New Year.
Thank God Shane would be back in Baltimore for that. He didn't think he could handle another gathering like this one. Fuck. He didn't think he'd survive this one. Just a little while longer, and he could make his excuses to leave. It had been a long and disastrous twenty-four hours. What should have taken no more than six hours had turned into a nightmare of delayed flights and missed connections, causing him to lose an entire day of the four-day break. Nobody would blame him for leaving. In fact, they'd probably rejoice when he left.
Or maybe that was just his guilt talking. Maybe the only person who'd rejoice would be Wyatt. Could Shane blame him?
No, he couldn't.
He shifted against the hard seat of the folding chair, wondering if he could get away with leaving now. It had been two hours, surely that was enough time. It had been obvious that his presence hadn't been expected, that his showing up had been a surprise to everyone except Chloe and her parents. Surely he could leave now without appearing to be rude.
Leave? Hell, he should have never shown up to begin with.
He started to stand, was stopped when Mrs. Hunter quickly rose to her feet and clapped her hands together to get everyone's attention. "Time for the white elephant exchange, everyone. Shane, can you give me a hand bringing the gifts in?"
"I don't—" He froze, the words dying in his throat at the look Mrs. Hunter gave him. He suddenly felt like he was thirteen again, being reprimanded for the time he'd cut Chloe's hair while Wyatt held her down because she wouldn't stop following them around. Or the time he and Wyatt had left notes saying they were running away and had hidden down in the Hunters' basement, gorging themselves on junk food all day while everyone frantically searched for them. Or the hundred other times they had gotten into trouble for doing stupid shit as they were growing up.