by Amy Olle
“I insist.”
“Th-that’s not why I came here.”
Isobel tilted her head to one side. “Why did you come here?”
“I didn’t know where else to go. I’ve been planning to leave for a while, but then I-I had to get out a little sooner than I expected and I-I knew Finn would help me.” Sidney’s voice and eyes softened when she said Finn’s name. “He’s always been so nice to me.”
Isobel’s heart swelled pride, constricting her chest. She jiggled the check. “Just take it.”
“I don’t want it.”
Dropping her chin, Isobel leveled Sidney with the look all three of her kids immediately responded to. “It’s my fee for coming here tonight.”
Sidney twisted around and careened toward the door. “I’ll go.”
Isobel slid into her path. “You don’t even have to spend it. Think of it as insurance. It’s there if you need it. If you don’t spend it, you can send it back to me. Maybe include a note to let me know you’re okay.” A sudden surge of emotion piled in her throat. “Take it, please. For my sake, if not yours.”
“Why are you being so nice to me?” Sidney’s voice cracked with a hitch of desperation.
Isobel peered into the girl’s youthful face and a pang struck her beneath the breastbone to realize how young she was. “I’ve been where you are. I know how scared you must be.”
Sidney ducked her chin. “I’m not scared.”
“Then you’re a lot braver than me. I didn’t have the courage to leave. I waited until my dad tossed me out like garbage.
Sidney swallowed, the sound an audible gulp. Then a silent sob shook her shoulders, and Isobel wrapped her arms around Sidney’s small body. More sobs escaped, and Isobel wanted to weep right along with her. She was only a child. The same age as Isobel when her own father had kicked her out of the house.
All these years, she’d carried the shame of what had happened. But the shame wasn’t hers. It belonged to her dad. If he could be so cruel to his own daughter, a frightened child, then he was the one lacking. Not her. She hadn’t done anything wrong, except love too hard, too soon.
“It will get better,” Isobel promised. “Soon it won’t hurt so much.”
When that storm kicked up off the lake and blew across the island, the fear and the shame broke her. Exhausted, hungry, the terror had overcome her and she’d laid her head down on the ground. She didn’t care if the storm killed her or if she got sick. At least death would take her away from the nightmare.
“Eventually the storm passes,” she murmured into the smooth mass of Sidney’s long hair.
In her case, the storm had ceased the moment his sneakers appeared in her line of sight. After that, she knew only warmth and love and the soothing comfort of his raspy voice as he talked to her, jabbering away for hours while she slept and cried in the passenger’s seat of his car.
Sidney lifted her head and wiped her eyes with a shaking hand. “Please tell Finn how sorry I am, and how much I appreciate what he’s done for me.”
“You don’t want to tell him yourself?”
Sidney shook her head.
“Give me a minute to grab my shoes and keys?” Isobel moved toward the hallway. “I’ll drop you off at the ferry.”
Protests fell from Sidney’s lips. “You don’t have to do that.”
“It’s another one of my fees,” Isobel called over her shoulder as she darted for the hallway.
She slipped into the bathroom and shut the door, then quickly pulled up the number for Sidney’s aunt. The woman’s groggy voice grew instantly alert when Isobel explained who she was and why she was calling. Though they talked briefly, Isobel learned Sidney’s aunt, Becca, was eager for her niece’s arrival and had indeed booked her airfare. By the time Isobel disconnected the call, she felt a little better about letting Sidney go.
Thirty minutes later, Isobel waited while Sidney boarded the ferry and soon after, the boat cast off. A bright orange sun peeped over the horizon when she returned home.
She let herself in through the back and slammed into a thick wall of tension that halted her steps. At the kitchen island, Shea perched on a barstool, a cup of coffee in one hand.
Slowly, he set down his cup. “Where’ve you been?”
She opened her mouth to tell him all that had transpired while he slept, but the thundering of footsteps cut off her reply.
Finn burst into the kitchen, his chest heaving from his dash to reach them. “Sidney’s gone.”
Isobel laid a hand on his arm. “She left, mijo.”
Finn jerked away from her touch. “What?”
“I just dropped her off at the ferry,” she said, setting her purse and car keys on the island counter.
“You let her go?” Fiery anger contorted Finn’s attractive features. “Why didn’t you stop her?”
Isobel gaped stupidly at him. Not only had she never witnessed so much animation in her son, but in that moment he so strongly resembled Shea that a thunderbolt of shock jolted her.
“She didn’t want to stay.” Isobel licked her parched lips. “Finn, she lied about the baby. She’s not pregnant.”
With a confused shake of his head, he snarled a hand through his hair. “Where did she go?”
“To her aunt’s in Texas.” Isobel tugged open her purse and tunneled through the oversized handbag. “I have the phone number.”
Hands on his hips, Finn stared at the floorboards while she fumbled for her phone. Pulling up the call log, she scribbled the number on a piece of scrap paper and thrust it at him.
His gaze flickered to the note, but he didn’t reach for it. He stared so long and so hard at that tiny slip of paper in her hand, she felt it warm from the heat of his gaze.
“Keep it,” he said finally. “She obviously didn’t want me to find her.”
Then he crossed to the refrigerator and disappeared behind the open door.
Isobel glanced at Shea, who studied the refrigerator door with a concentrated scowl.
Finn banged around inside the fridge. He cursed.
She tucked Sidney’s number inside her purse. “You okay?”
More noises tumbled across the kitchen, but there was no reply.
“Finn?”
At Shea’s stern tone, the door slammed shut. “No, I’m not okay. I’m pissed off. She should’ve talked to me before she left.”
“So call her,” Shea said.
A snarl curled Finn’s upper lip, but a wounded light glittered in his eyes.
Her heart squeezed. “I know it hurts right now, but you’re a little relieved, too, right?”
“Relieved?”
It could’ve been Shea, the man she married eighteen years ago, ensnaring her in his defiant glare.
“Sidney is s-safe.” Her nerves stretched taut, she stammered. “She isn’t pregnant, and you aren’t marrying a girl you hardly know. You couldn’t have wanted that for yourself.”
Finn’s expression turned scornful. “Mom, you know me. Do you honestly believe I’d ask a woman to marry me if I didn’t want to marry her?”
Shock stole her voice.
“The answer is no, Mom.” Then, his shoulders slumped, he retreated down the hall.
Her gaze swung to her husband. Belatedly, words dropped from her lips. “I—I—what was that?”
Shea sipped his coffee. “I tried to tell you.”
“You tried to tell me what?”
Brilliant blue eyes pierced her. “Not every man who asks a woman to marry him is doing so because he thinks he has no other choice.”
“That’s what you still think, isn’t it? That I married you out of some outdated sense of duty or obligation?”
His words plucked a chord of truth in her heart and she ducked her chin to hide the fact that’s exactly what she believed. Though it was perfectly understandable, given the circumstances of their marriage, that she might’ve wondered, but icy fear tightened her throat, strangling the admission.
If she confessed th
e truth, he’d be mad, and they’d fight. Again. She was so tired of fighting, but more terrifying than that, what if this fight was the last fight? What if, like all the other fights, it fixed nothing, and they had to face the fact that their marriage couldn’t be saved? What if the last fight, the last heartbreak, was the last light to be turned out on them?
Slowly, he pushed to his feet and at the sink, set his coffee mug in the basin.
When he turned back around, his expression had changed. “I’ve got to go talk to my brothers.”
Her hand flitted over her hair, touching the sagging ponytail and uncombed tendrils. “Let me go change—”
“No.”
She froze, and her hand fell uselessly to her side.
His gaze touched hers briefly, then dropped away. “You look exhausted. You should get some sleep before we meet with the photographer later.”
Inwardly, she groaned. In the chaos of the night, the photoshoot had fled her mind. She hadn’t finished the last dress, but truthfully it didn’t seem all that important to her now. Certainly not as important as being with Shea when he told his brothers about Aiden.
She opened her mouth to tell him exactly that, but he moved close and dropped a quick kiss on her forehead. “Get some sleep. I’ll meet you later at the loft.”
Then he slipped quietly through the back door without her.
She wanted to scream at him to stop. To wait for her. She wanted to demand he tell her why he no longer wanted her to go with him.
But that question had been answered by the devastation in his eyes. Devastation that she had somehow triggered.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Still hours before opening, the empty pub echoed the hollowness inside Shea as he worked his way around the room overturning chairs which had been stacked on top of the tables to allow the crew to sweep the floors.
When he’d passed the halfway mark in his task, the back door groaned open, letting in a stream of morning sun, and the silhouette of a man and moved inside. As the door fell shut, the man’s shadowy form took the shape of his youngest brother, Leo.
“Wait, I’m the first one here?” Leo held his arms out at his sides. “Has that ever happened before?”
“Never.” With a smile, Shea set down the chair in his hands.
Though it’d been only a few weeks since Shea had last seen his reclusive little brother, the change in Leo sent a ripple of surprise chasing through him. His deep-set hazel-green eyes glimmered in his sun-warmed face and he’d added some much-needed weight to his rail-thin frame.
“How you doing?” Shea palmed Leo’s hand and gave him a one-armed man-hug. “You good? You look good.”
“Yeah?” An unmistakable hint of humor glinted in Leo’s eyes when he threaded a hand through his short dark hair. “I got a haircut.”
“That must be it.” Shea’s gaze lingered while the knot that’d formed in his chest years ago and twisted itself around all things Leo eased somewhat. “It suits you.”
“How about you?” Leo lowered his body into a chair. “Got any hair appointments coming up?”
Slipping into a chair, Shea stated simply, “Nope.”
Leo’s deceptively casual gaze grabbed him, but Shea ignored it.
He didn’t want to discuss the problem of his marriage. The aching was constant and if he gave in to it, it could easily overwhelm him. Down that road loomed a dark bleakness he’d never thought he’d feel when it came to his wife.
If she considered the life they’d built together a mistake, what did that mean for their future? If all that existed between them was their haunted memories, what could he possibly hope for? An end of the fighting? Good sex? Dare he hope for companionable friendship?
Or, as the years piled up, did a sadder fate await them? More growing apart, more fighting, more assuming the worst about each other, until the torment wore them down and they retreated into themselves? Good sex could only take them so far. Soon, it’d become awkward, impersonal, draining. Unsatisfying.
Their relationship cold. Loveless.
Could he do it? Could he accept such a marriage?
“Don’t worry,” Leo said. “I’m not going to pretend I have some sage wisdom to offer or some such crap.”
A reluctant smile tugged at Shea’s mouth. “I appreciate that.”
“I mean, what the hell do I know about sustaining a relationship for twenty years.”
“Not much, I gather,” Shea said dryly.
Leo slanted forward in his chair and propped his elbows on his knees. “But let me just say this.”
“Here we go,” Shea muttered.
“Whether you and Isobel stay married or go your separate ways, don’t sell yourself short.” Green eyes locked with blue. “You deserve to be happy.”
Shea’s heart slammed against his chest cavity with the tempest of emotion Leo unleashed inside him. A bead of moisture broke out on his forehead and he swiped at it.
“Ah.” Leo reclined in the chair. “I see how it is.”
His chest tight, Shea dragged a painful hiss of air into his lungs. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“You’re out of time,” Leo said softly. “The excuses aren’t working anymore. There are no more lies you can tell yourself, or her. That means there’s only one thing left to do.”
Exasperated, Shea snapped. “Give up?”
“Give in.”
Bitterness colored Shea’s harsh, humorless laugh.
“If there’s enough there pulling you together, then you have to let go of whatever it is that’s keeping you apart,” Leo said. “Pride, anger, fear, whatever it is.”
“Just let it go, huh?” Shea’s lip curled with his sneer.
Annoyingly, Leo chuckled. “I didn’t say it was easy, but it is simple. You have a choice—hold on to your anger or your wounded pride or whatever it is that’s keeping you apart and end the relationship. Put yourselves out of this misery.”
Shea glared at his little brother. “Or?”
“Surrender. Forgive her, and yourself. Be happy.”
“You’re right,” Shea said. “You don’t know shit.”
Leo’s rare smile flirted with forming. “That may be true, but I know the stink of desperation when I smell it. You’re out of other options. It’s time to choose. You can go left, or you can go right, but you can’t have it both ways. Pick one. Yes or no. Go or stop. What’s it gonna be, brother?”
Shea sat back in his chair and, stretching his legs out in front of him, contemplated Leo. “You’ve changed,” he said, his tone accusatory.
Leo shrugged. “I stopped drinking.”
Understanding stole over Shea. “That’s why you don’t come into the pub anymore.”
“I’ve got other things occupying my nights now.” The light in his hazel-green eyes glinted. “Better things.”
“How is the wedding planning going?”
“Don’t know. Don’t care. I went left. Now I’m just enjoying the ride.”
Shea couldn’t recall ever seeing Leo so open and relaxed. “Looks like you made the right choice for yourself.”
Leo’s features pulled into a thoughtful frown. “You know, now that I hear you say it, it really wasn’t a choice at all. At least, it didn’t feel like a choice.”
“What did it feel like?”
“Death.”
A rusty laugh rumbled through Shea.
“And not the good kind of death either,” Leo said.
“Is there a good kind of death?”
“Sure. There’s the kind that brings relief. This wasn’t that kind of death. It was the awful, painful kind,” he said happily. “You know, where you’re kicking and screaming and praying to a God you don’t even believe in, but you’re just that desperate to avoid your fate.”
Weariness pulled at him. Damn, but he was tired. Tired of living half-alive but half-dead.
“You’ve thought a lot about this,” he said.
White teeth flashed in Leo’s tanned face,
then a beam of sunlight fell across the floor when the back door opened, and Noah filed into the bar with Jack close behind him.
Shea and Leo pushed to their feet.
“Surrender,” Leo said. “You can thank me later.”
Dark desolation churned in Shea’s gut. He tried to listen as his brothers discussed Jack’s week at training camp and the upcoming hockey season, but the misery swamped him, darkening the world around him.
Through the gloom closing in around him, Shea recognized the light of truth in Leo’s words. The time had come for he and Isobel to decide their fate. Would they stay married or go their separate ways?
For Shea, the choice was easy. He wanted Isobel. He wanted her heart. All of her heart. But how was that possible when, for her, their marriage had been one long drawn out trauma? Why would she choose him?
Despite the fallout with her dad, and after the initial shock, a steady thrum of excitement had hummed inside Shea to be marrying Isobel. For years up until that point, his life had been entirely focused on shielding his brothers from Daniel and scrounging up enough food for them to eat. He hadn’t been living, he’d been surviving. Until her.
Then, she was everything. His life, his love, his adventure. Everything inside him was wrapped up in her and their baby. But he didn’t mean to make marriage and kids her only adventure, and he certainly hadn’t meant to make her do it alone. Could he blame her if she couldn’t forgive him for that?
His gaze touched over his brothers’ faces, and the shadows lifted just a little. “Where’s Luke?”
Noah frowned down at his cell phone screen, his thumb moving across the display screen. “He overslept. He’s on his way now.”
“What’s going on?” Jack kicked the leg of a chair out and straddled the seatback.
“I have some news.”
Wary alarm rippled around the trio.
“Good news or bad news?” Noah asked.
“Good, I think.” Shea didn’t bother to hide his concern. “Though honestly, I don’t know for sure.”
Alarm turned to alertness.
“Hit us.”
“We’ll wait for Luke,” Shea said. “This is something we have to do together.”