“I have, but there’s no point, really. I have a good life here. I do odd construction work and it picks up a lot in the summer. Plus, people here need me, you know?”
“Do they? Like who? Your mom?”
“Yes, my mom. And the community. I’m a hockey coach. Things have gotten really bad here over the past few years with the opioid epidemic. Small town, jobs disappearing, long winters here. This is like ground zero. You could film Breaking Bad of the North here. Prescription pills, everything. It’s not good.”
“Do you...get into any of that stuff?”
“I don’t do drugs and rarely drink. After Lou--” he started to say something, then took a drink of water and stopped. “I mean, someone has to be the designated driver, right?”
“Why has it gotten so bad?”
“It started out with doctors overwriting prescription pills for anyone who wanted them. It’s so dark and depressing during the winter, it’s easy to see how people might want to turn to an easy fix.”
“What about you? Are you happy here?”
“Look, point is, I’m taking care of things here. And I’m happy.”
He scrubbed a thumb across his jaw line, and his eyes flitted to the window when he spoke.
I saw some fleeting thought pass across his face, a microexpression that led me to believe maybe happy wasn’t the whole truth.
“What about you?” he asked, eyeing me. “What are your--”
Even though he irked the shit out of me when he was being an asshole, the emotion had been bubbling up inside me throughout our conversation. Since we were talking about his dad, too, I couldn’t help it.
I scooted to his side of the couch and leaned over to give him a hug.
He didn’t say anything, and offered me a token hug at first, barely wrapping his arms around me.
“No,” I said, shaking my head.
“What do you mean, ‘no?’”
“No, that wasn’t good enough. Give me a real hug, dammit.”
I felt his big arms wrap around my back and tighten. I tightened more, and didn’t let go. I thought I might have heard him sniffle a little. Emotion rushed through me. The eerie feeling that we were long lost friends, united at last, rolled past me again.
I thought about the hammer falling in my dad’s workshop today, and I wondered if my dad had something to do with Shane being placed in my life as the warmth from his body flowed through me. After what seemed like minutes, he finally cleared his throat and let go. We both had bleary, red eyes.
“Two deaths in the family,” I whispered to him. “I can’t imagine how hard that must be for you.”
“It was a while back now.” The words seemed pained. “It’s okay.”
I hugged him again. My eyes welled with tears and my heart palpitated against him. The heat of his body against me felt incredible, and I knew we both needed this.
I took my arms off from around him, and stayed sitting next to him. I could feel the warmth from his leg pressed up against mine. Contrasted with the frosty cold outside, I was glad I was with him tonight and not at my dad’s icebox of a house.
“If you ever want to talk about how you feel, I’m here. And I know it must be tough for you--but Louisa was my friend too and I’d like to know how everything happened. When you’re ready.”
“Not now,” he whispered, pressing his cheek against mine.
Now that our bodies were separated, I felt cold. I longed to feel him pressed up against me again, like that. God, was he solid.
“What about you?” he said. “This can’t be easy, cleaning out your father’s house.”
“Does it get easier?” I asked. “Does the pain subside in any way?”
His hand landed on my thigh and squeezed. I wasn’t sure if it was meant as an advance, or was just a mindless gesture. Either way, I put my hand on top of his and squeezed.
He shook his head. “No. The pain stays the same. But you get used to it eventually. And you become numb to it. It’s both a good and a bad feeling. It’s like learning to walk with a limp. The limp never gets better, but you learn to adjust your way of being to it. The thing you’ve got to realize is, things will just never go back to the way they were, and that’s a fact you’ve got to come to terms with. Or you’ll drive yourself crazy.”
A wave of emotion crested and a tear rolled down my cheek. I thought of my dad, Louisa, and her dad.
Shane’s dad.
“The silver lining,” he said, squeezing my leg, “Is that it makes you appreciate the people you do have in your life a whole lot more.”
“Ouch,” I choked out, grabbing his hand.
He looked down. “Oh shit, sorry. I forgot that was your leg.”
I giggled. “Who else’s would it be?”
“I don’t know, mine, maybe?”
“Wouldn’t you feel it if it was your leg?”
He spun his body around to face me, a slight grin on his face.
“You’ve got a big mouth, you know that?”
“Just pointing out the obvious,” I said, playfully.
My pulse raced furiously as he reached a finger out toward me, and traced it around my lips.
“No. I mean you actually have a big mouth.”
My cheeks flushed red. “Is that supposed to be an insult?”
“No,” he smirked, and grabbed my finger and placed it on his mouth so I could trace his lips. “I think mine’s bigger. What do you think?”
Okay…so are we back to him being flirty again? His hot and cold nature was confusing to me.
I let out a small gasp as I ran my finger around his lips, feeling myself falling under his spell. A shadow fell over his face, and in the moment, he looked devious. I got the feeling as though he was trying to control himself around me for some reason.
“Yours is bigger,” I whispered.
“That’s what she said,” he smirked.
I squinted. “I don’t get that one. Can you explain--”
He didn’t explain.
In an instant, his lips were pressed up against mine, and he moaned into my mouth. The short, deep, nasally noise reverberated through my entire body. Reaching behind my head, he grabbed a knot of my hair.
“You’re right. Mine’s definitely bigger,” he said.
“I was thinking about this last night,” I admitted, my heart pounding. My chest ached, desire pouring into every one of my limbs. “Why did you just leave yesterday? You still haven’t given me a satisfactory answer.”
He didn’t say anything, and I backed away, my brain searching for an answer.
“Do you not find me attractive?” I hypothesized.
“I find you incredibly attractive. I want to do very--”
“Inappropriate things to me, right. I get it. So…” I reached out and touched his chin. “Why don’t you?”
He looked away. “It’s complicated.”
“Don’t give me that ‘it’s complicated’ bullshit again. Is that your relationship status or something?”
“That’s not my relationship status. What are you talking about?”
I sighed. “When I was dating my first boyfriend freshman year of college, it turned out he had two girlfriends. Well, three, actually. He would tell me he was going home for the weekends, but he was really just going to hang out with his ‘weekend girlfriend.’”