by Roni Loren
They were asking more than she was capable of.
She wasn’t that person anymore. She couldn’t be.
Chapter
Twenty-One
A few weeks later, Shaw sat on the top of Wally, his feet hanging off the platform as Taryn faced him from the bottom. She’d been working out of an office at the gym that they were letting her use to coordinate the fund-raiser, but after work each day, she dutifully put on her workout clothes and had been tackling the obstacles with him.
She complained about it most of the time, giving him a hard time about being the most sadistic trainer ever, but he could see the look of satisfaction on her face with each notch of progress she made. This gave her relief from the intense work she was doing to coordinate so many things on her own. All that responsibility took a toll on a person, but Shaw could tell she was determined to both keep going and not to end up in the hospital again. So every night, she stopped working around five and often spent the night with him, at the gym for a little while and then back at his place for much longer.
They were developing a routine that felt oddly domestic even though it’d only been a few weeks since the first night she’d slept over. Something about their shared history and the circumstances had made the relationship deepen at a staggering rate. There were no games, no should-I-call-her-today-or-wait-a-day bullshit. It was as if they both sensed that this relationship had a definite time limit and they were determined to eke out every drop of enjoyment while they had each other around.
He probably should’ve been more worried about how much time they were spending together and how easily they’d fallen into a relationship, but he couldn’t help how much he enjoyed having her there every day. Everything inside him felt lighter. His life felt shockingly…normal. He had a girlfriend, even though they hadn’t put names on their relationship. He laughed during the day and got to do a job he loved. Rivers got to tease him about never getting any sleep anymore because his neighbors were so loud.
With all that going on, Shaw could ignore the stuff he didn’t want to think about—that he’d never gone to her place because he couldn’t bear the thought of going to Long Acre, that she kept canceling dinner plans with her parents because she couldn’t invite him along, and that he was putting her in a position to lie to the people she cared about most.
Those things would keep him up at night. He shoved the thoughts away and peered over the edge of the wall. “You gonna get up here, Landry, or just admire the view from down there?”
She stepped forward, giving him an unencumbered view of her cleavage, and looked up. “I think maybe I need to accept that this wall is just not for me. Maybe I’m anatomically unable to do this.”
“Maybe,” he said, not buying that for a minute. “Or maybe you’re overthinking it.”
“Overthinking it?” she asked, affronted. “What’s there to overthink? It’s a twelve-foot wall and I am not an elite athlete.”
“Be careful. Do you want me to throw annoying inspirational quotes I found on the internet at you?” He grinned, swinging his legs and gripping the edge of the platform. “Because you sound like you need them.”
“Oh Lord, please don’t.”
“‘If you think you can’t, you’re right.’ Henry Ford.”
She flipped him the bird. “I hate you.”
He pulled a serious face and put a hand over his heart. “‘Believe you can and you’re halfway there.’ Theodore Roosevelt.”
She put her hands over her ears. “La-la-la, not listening.”
He laughed, his chest filling with affection for her. She looked so damn cute sending him petulant looks and singing la-la-la in perfect pitch.
He cupped his hands around his mouth to call out, “‘You must do the thing you think you cannot do.’ Eleanor Roosevelt.”
“Doe, a deer,” Taryn sang, getting louder and moving into Sound of Music territory.
He smiled and watched her as she continued the song, looking both determined and playful at the same time. He had the bizarre urge to go down there, grab her hands, and join in. Another quote came to him unbidden, one that had been on the wall in his college English class but had nothing to do with motivation. “‘Beauty surrounds us, but usually we need to be walking in a garden to know it.’ Rumi.”
A wrinkle appeared in Taryn’s brow, and she lowered her hands, her song cutting off. “What was that?”
Shaw swallowed hard, a feeling he didn’t want to think about pushing at the edges of his mind. “Nothing. Just that I think you could sing the phone book and I’d want to listen.”
She smiled.
“Speaking of which, how’s your song coming?” he asked. “Am I going to get to hear it?”
Her smile instantly fell. “It’s not. I’m not doing it.”
He frowned. “Why?”
She looked up at him. “Because that’s a much bigger wall than this. And I don’t want to talk about it.”
The words weren’t angry, but they were like a gavel falling. Conversation closed. He could tell by her shift in stance that she wasn’t going to open up to him about whatever was stopping her. That stung a little, reminding him what this was. A brief affair. An intense one but still one with a time limit for her because he couldn’t give her what she needed. He had no doubt she meant more to him than he did to her, and he had to stay aware of that. He wasn’t someone she was going to open up to fully. That was their unspoken agreement. They didn’t talk about the past. They lived only in the present moment. They were living in an imaginary bubble that would eventually pop.
“All right. Enough talking. Get your ass up here, professor,” he said, trying to shake the unwelcome sensations moving through him and focus on just this moment, trying to enjoy it for what it was. “I promise I’ll greatly reward you later if you can reach me.”
She put her hands on her hips. “Baiting me with sexual favors is just dirty pool, man.”
“I never said I’d play fair.”
She gave him a perturbed look, but he could tell by the way she wet her lips that he’d gotten to her. That was what they had. Chemistry. He needed to focus on that. He loved that she found him so tempting. The feeling was more than mutual. It had to be enough.
He tapped the top of the wall, beckoning her. “Come on, gorgeous. You’re tough. This is just a dumb wall. You’ve got this.”
A determined look crossed her face, and she pulled up her kneepads. “All right. Let’s do this.”
She backed up, keeping her eyes focused on the spot in front of her, and then got into her runner’s stance. After a silent count, she shot forward.
Shaw called out words of encouragement, and then her feet hit the curve. He knew from watching so many people attempt the wall that her momentum was good. She made it four steps up and her gaze collided with his, shock there. She’d made it farther than ever. But the power behind her was fading. Without thinking, he reached down and caught her hands. She grabbed on tight, and he helped her on the last stride, pulling her up and falling back with the momentum. She landed on top of him, straddling him and panting.
He grinned up at her wide eyes. “You did it!”
She smacked his chest. “I did not. You helped. You—”
“Stop.” He brought her hands to his mouth and kissed her knuckles. “You made it farther than any other woman I’ve seen attempt it yet. You were perfect.”
“You helped,” she complained. “Doesn’t count.”
He pushed up on his elbows, examining her frustrated expression. “Something only counts if you do it absolutely alone?”
“Yes.”
“I’m not sure that’s true,” he said. “Isn’t making it most of the way there with a little help from others how most people find success in this world?”
She groaned. “Oh my God, are you inspirationalizing me again?”
He smile
d and sat up, wrapping his arms around her. “No. But I once had a very wise woman tell me humans need other humans and that we can’t do it all on our own. I’m finding the advice pretty helpful, so maybe it’s something to consider.”
She huffed and looped her arms around his neck. “I can’t believe you’re using my own words against me.”
“Dirty pool is my favorite game.”
She sagged in his hold and touched her forehead to his. “I never tried to write the song. I gave up before I even tried. I lied to my friends.”
The words caught him off guard, the confession hitting him right in the center of his chest. He rubbed a hand down her back, afraid to spook her and have her shut him out again.
She lifted her head, her eyes searching his. “I’m afraid it’s going to open up a door to stuff I can’t handle.”
He smoothed a stray hair away from her face. “Okay.”
She frowned. “You’re not supposed to say okay. You’re supposed to say that I’m tough and I’ve done all this research and this could help and I shouldn’t be such a baby about one stupid song, that I should at least try because I promised I would.”
He studied her, the storm in her eyes. “Baby, all of those things are things you think you owe other people. You don’t owe anyone a damn thing. Not the world. Not your friends. Not your parents. You’ve given so much of yourself already, even when there was no debt to be paid in the first place.”
“But you suggested the song. You’re the one—”
“I suggested the song for you. Because I’ve listened to you sing, and I’ve heard you talk about your songwriting dreams. I’ve seen your face when you get lost in a song. I saw it the other night when we were getting ready for bed. I don’t even think you realized you were singing, but you were transformed for those few minutes…like the world was lifted off your shoulders and you were free of it. It was a beautiful thing to watch.”
“Shaw…” she said softly, her eyes getting shiny.
“I never meant to put any pressure on you. I thought maybe you’d want to write a song because it would give you a chance to take back a part of you that was stolen,” he said. “I would never want you to do it for any other reason. So if your heart isn’t in it or you think it will hurt you, please don’t do it.”
She blinked and lifted her hands to cup his jaw. “You… You’re a beautiful person, Shaw Miller.”
The words hit him, cutting deep and stirring guilt. He looked down. “Taryn…”
“No, I’m serious. I don’t know how anyone could ever know you and think anything else. Maybe if you gave people a chance to know—”
“Please. Stop.” He eased her off his lap so he could stand. “Let’s not do this. Don’t give me that much credit. The situation hasn’t changed. I can’t…be anything but Lucas in front of anyone else.”
She stood. “Shaw—”
“No. People aren’t going to see me like you do. You see the best parts of me because that’s what you bring out in me. That doesn’t mean the other parts aren’t still there.”
Taryn’s lips pressed together in frustration. “Which other parts, Shaw? What are these scary other sides I see no evidence of?”
He ran a hand over the back of his head and tightened the rubber band holding his hair back, wishing he could just slide down the wall and escape this conversation. “I have an anger problem. Diagnosed and everything. Intermittent explosive disorder.”
She grimaced like she’d bit into something sour. “IED? To get that diagnosis, you’d have to be having aggressive outbursts consistently two or three times a week. Or you would’ve needed more brushes with the law in the years since you attacked the reporter. I’ve been around you for weeks. I’ve seen no signs of an out-of-control temper at all,” she said flatly. “I think they let your brother’s history influence them.”
She was so ready to see the good in him. But she had no idea.
“You need a sign?” he said, his stomach hurting. “That wasn’t the first incident. The first time I lost my temper like that was with Joseph.”
She stared back at him. “What do you mean?”
He didn’t want to say it. He’d never said it. But he couldn’t bear to let her stand here and tell him what a wonderful person he was. She didn’t deserve to be fed that bullshit. His fingers curled into his palms, and he forced the words out. “A few months before the shooting, I visited home. Joseph was bitching about the fact that my parents bought me a car at sixteen and he still didn’t have one because they’d used the money to pay for extra training for me. That I was the favorite. That it was unfair.
“I blew him off because the only reason I got a car so early was because I needed to get back and forth to practice. He didn’t have anywhere to be. Well…” He looked away toward the windows, the story spilling out. “That night, Joseph and Trevor stole the newer car I’d traded up to in college. When I tracked them down a few hours later, they were in the park near the school in my car, smoking weed and getting everything filthy. Fast-food wrappers everywhere, a spilled drink and muddy footprints all over the floorboards.”
Taryn gripped the railing of the platform but didn’t say anything.
Shaw looked back at her. “I saw red. I yanked my brother out of the car like a goddamned lunatic and pushed him into the dirt. In front of his friend, I told him he was just a pathetic kid who was having a tantrum, trying to get everyone’s attention.” His jaw flexed, the memory still fresh in his mind. “I told him that if he wanted to be noticed so badly, then he should stop whining all the time and do something worth noticing.” He met her gaze, knowing he was ruining this but unable to keep lying to her or letting her think he was some helpless victim in all this. “So he did.”
Taryn’s eyes were big, and her hand pressed over her mouth.
He looked down. “A few months later, the shooting happened. The world noticed him.”
Shaw steeled himself for her reaction, braced himself for her anger. He’d been the trigger for what had caused so much pain and loss in her life. He’d put the idea in Joseph’s head. So when she took a step toward him, he almost wondered if she was going to push him off the platform. But instead, she stopped in front of him, heartbreak on her face, and wrapped her arms around him, putting her cheek to his chest. “Oh my God, Shaw.”
He stood stiffly, not knowing what to do. He kept his arms at his sides and closed his eyes. “I’m so sorry. I should’ve told you the truth sooner. I should’ve…”
She squeezed him tighter. “I’m so sorry you’ve had to carry that with you.”
He shook his head, tears burning his eyes. She didn’t get it. “I set him off. I caused it. It was my fault.”
She leaned back and looked up, her head already shaking. “Oh, Shaw. No. That’s not…” She touched his face. “You didn’t. Don’t say that.”
“It’s the truth.”
“No. This is just more of their crime, the other insidious way they victimized everyone,” she said, ire in her voice. “Leaving behind a long list of people who are left to question themselves forever about what they could’ve done differently. I told you. I think about opening that door all the time. Rebecca embarrassed Trevor and blamed herself for what he did for years. Your parents probably question every parental move they ever made. And you, you reacted to something your brother did with the sole purpose of angering you. He was trying to provoke you. He was creating his own justifications that the world was against him.” Her eyes flared with determination.
“Every indication shows that Joseph was already past the point of no return in the year leading up to the shooting, the antisocial behavior cropping up in all these little ways. His destruction of your property? Just another sign. He’d planned for Long Acre a lot longer than a few months before. You didn’t make it happen. No one thing made it happen. The wheels were already in motion by then.”
&nb
sp; Shaw stared at her, listening to her impassioned speech and not believing it. He’d told her what he’d told no one else in this world, not even Rivers, and she was absolving him. Just like that? No. He didn’t deserve a pass. “I should’ve seen that he was in trouble. I shouldn’t have been so damn full of myself.”
“We all should’ve looked harder. That doesn’t mean we’re to blame,” Taryn said fervently. “That’s a big reason why I’ve worked so hard on my program. There are signs so many of us—parents, teachers, doctors, classmates—could’ve caught. But we didn’t know what we didn’t know back then. You can’t blame yourself for that. How many brothers get in fights every day? You had no reason to think your fight with him was any different than any other run-of-the-mill sibling spat. You didn’t know he was already a ticking bomb.” She put her hand to his chest. “You were just a kid back then, too.”
Shaw shook his head, tears finally escaping. “You can’t do that. You can’t just wipe that slate clean. I hurt him. I let him down. I let everyone down.”
Empathy pinched her features, and she wrapped her hand around his neck, pulling him down to her. He laid his forehead against her shoulder, and the anguish washed through him in a flood. He hadn’t sobbed in years and the sensation felt painful and foreign.
Taryn caressed his hair, pulling it loose from the rubber band, whispering soothing words as if he were a child and not a grown man who towered over her. “It’s not your fault,” she whispered. “Let it out and let it go.”
He knew she was probably in therapist mode, but right now, he didn’t care. Something about the way she was holding him, the whole-cloth acceptance of what he’d told her, broke something open inside him. The grief he’d walled up for so long was busting through the seams.
He lost track of how long they’d stood there, but eventually, he lifted his head, feeling emptied out and a little lost. He looked down at her, a surge of something powerful and pure rolling through him. This woman was…everything. “What am I supposed to do with you?”
