by Jo Raven
My cell is sitting on the desk, mocking me with its lack of messages and missed calls, with the possibility of calling Shane.
Why not call him? Clear this misunderstanding? As a matter of fact, why am I not calling him right now instead of thinking and angsting?
It doesn’t matter. Time passes, hours roll by, and I still don’t call him.
I’m giving him space. That’s what I’m doing. But hey, I could pass by his apartment after work, check in on him. Explain what I meant. Explain we could be friends, if that’s all he wants.
But when my shift is over and I gather my stuff to go, I get into my car and drive home.
Not sure if I’m giving space to him or to myself. Maybe I’m waiting for him to make the first move for once, seek me out. Say he’s sorry. Say he misses me. That he loves me.
And he doesn’t.
It really shouldn’t hurt this badly. Not again. Not when he’s never sought me out before, when I’ve always been the one barging into his life over and over again, ringing his bell, calling his phone, picking at his shell, making sure he’s okay.
Trying to get him to love me.
How pathetic is that, Cass?
Way over the acceptable levels, that’s for sure. Pathetic even for me. Especially for me. I don’t even deserve pity for falling like this, with no safety net, no parachute.
Me, who’s been walking a tightwire from guy to guy for as long as I can remember without ever tripping. Without ever caring if I fell, because it never mattered. I had nothing to lose.
What do you want, Cass?
I buy groceries, clean my kitchen, think about baking a cake for the first time in ages. Check the TV program. Put on music and hum along.
I shove my cell into the bottom of my purse.
Then take it out again. As evening rolls around, as night falls, the hours ticking by, I can’t stand not knowing how he’s been today, what he’s done. If he’s slept well. If he had another flashback.
Tough.
I put on the Walking Dead, because hey, I really like that show, and grab a bowl of cereal with chocolate milk, while waiting for the cake to bake. I need sweet. And warmth. And nothing is helping.
Nothing is as it was. I could go to bed with my vibrator—but that can’t compare to sex with Shane. Or I could grab the bottle of tequila from under the counter—but I’m not my mom. I refuse to be. I won’t let her mold me into a copy of her.
But if Shane doesn’t love me, I need a hand to pull me out of the mire.
So I call Manon and beg for her to come over.
“Look, I know you’re in Seth-heaven, okay?” I’m curled in on myself, on the sofa. “But I need my friend. Just for tonight. Please.”
“Are you okay? Coming down with something?”
Coming down with a nasty case of luv, probably. Can’t she tell? “I don’t know.”
“I’m coming over. I’ll bring ice cream. Set up a movie, and then you tell me all about what happened with Shane.”
She can tell all right, and I’m more thankful that she will ever know.
***
An hour later, wrapped up in soft blankets, with Supernatural reruns playing in the background and a tub of cookie dough ice cream—my favorite—everything should look better.
I’m not sure it does, not even when Manon puts an arm around me and gives me a little shake.
“Spill, girlfriend. What’s the matter? It sounded like a serious low.”
I shrug, put down the ice cream on the table. “Nothing’s the matter. I just didn’t want to be alone tonight.”
“I admit I was a little surprised when you called. I thought you’d be at his place. You’ve been spending a lot of time with that boy. Is everything okay between you?”
“There’s nothing between us.” That’s the whole problem, isn’t it? “We’re not together, Manon.”
“What are you talking about? You spend time together, dance together, kiss, sleep together. You call that nothing?”
“I don’t know. Between the rough sex and him saying nothing, not even when I tell him I love him, what am I supposed to think?”
“Oh, girl…” Now she puts both arms around me and I accept the hug, though it does nothing to ease the hurt. “Boys don’t always say what they feel.”
“I bet Seth told you he loved you from the start.”
“He didn’t. But his actions told me so, only I was too blind to see it for a long time.”
I think about that. What if Shane also gave me hints in his own way? He doesn’t say much, but… He called me when he needed help. Let me hold him. Gave me the key to his apartment. Trusted me enough to tell me his triggers, fight his demons and have sex with me.
“He’s been going through a rough patch. You know it. With his flashbacks getting worse and not sleeping well.”
“I know.” I swallow hard. “I know this isn’t the best time for him. And I will wait. I just need a sign, you know?”
“Sign?”
“That I’m not imagining that he wants me, too. That I’m not forcing myself into his life. That he wants more… More than just sex.”
“Of course there is.”
“How do you know?” I rub at my eyes. “Mom says I should settle for any guy who shows interest, but I don’t want to settle for anything else than real love. The kind that moves mountains and gives birth to families and homes. I want that.”
With Shane.
“Cass… You know he’s seeing a therapist, right? He always refused to go. Because the one he saw in prison just about broke him.”
I nod, my throat closing up. “I know. He told me about that.”
“But he said he’ll do it to get better. Because he wants to be with you.”
My heart is pounding. “He said that? You heard it?”
“Seth was there. And one more thing: ask Jesse, ask Seth, ask anyone you want: Shane fell for you long ago. He hasn’t as much as glanced at another girl in the past year. Even after the mess with Jesse, he never did. He’s not interested in anyone else. Just you.”
Aww God. “I haven’t been with other guys, either. We had a fight the other day, and he walked away. I only wanted to talk about us, what is going on between us, and I screwed up. God, I’ve done that a lot these past few months. Years. Most of my life. I don’t want to screw this up. I really want to be with Shane.”
“Why did you fight?”
“Because I wish he’d tell me something. Claim me as his.”
“Does he know you want to be claimed? That you want to go steady? Telling him you love him doesn’t necessarily imply all this.” Manon reaches for the ice cream. “Especially coming from you.”
“Why would it be different coming from me?”
Manon won’t meet my eyes. “Because. You’ve never been seen with a guy for more than one night. And with everything Shane has been going through, maybe he’s only trying to protect himself.”
“From me?”
“From the possibility that you aren’t serious with him. That you say you love him, but won’t stick by it. Think, Cass. He pretty much admitted he’s getting worse. Thinks he’s going crazy. You’ve seen him at his worst, when he’s confused and lost. Why would he think you’d stick around him of all people?”
“He thinks I’m easy,” I whisper, a lump in my throat and my ears burning. “Is that what you’re trying to tell me?”
“No. that’s not it.” She sighs. “Cass, you’re the sweetest person I know.”
I start shaking my head. “Not true.”
“It is, too. You make mistakes, but not because you want to hurt people. You feel deeply, you stand by your friends. Heck, you were there for me when I needed you, when I was a mess because I didn’t know what to do with Seth. And whenever you’re around, Shane smiles. He smiles, Cass, when I thought the only expression he was capable of was that dark scowl. You’re good for him. If you really love him, don’t give up on him now.”
“Manon, I—”
Her phone starts buzzing, and she leans over the couch to fish it out of her bag. “One sec. it’s Seth.”
“Of course it is.” I make kissy faces at her just to piss her off, and she waves a hand at me to shush me.
She frowns, then the blood drains from her face. “What? Is he okay?”
Frozen I sit there, a bad feeling spreading in my gut. After a while, I can’t stand it anymore and I grab her hand. “What happened?”
“We’ll be there,” she says into the phone and disconnects. When she looks at me, she has two dots of red on her cheekbones. “Let’s go. I’ll tell you on the way.”
***
“You know when Shane told us that he thought someone attacked him at the construction site?”
“You mean when we eavesdropped on him talking to Zane?”
“Yes,” Manon says unrepentantly as she starts the engine. “And how he got better since he was fired and stayed away from that place?”
“Fewer flashbacks. He said something of the sort.” It’s cold inside the car and I crank up the heater. “So?”
“Shane thought he was turning paranoid, and Seth told him he should see a therapist. The therapist told him he’d made bad associations in his mind with the place for some reason, and that he was better off finding another job anyway.”
“And the point of this conversation is?” The bad feeling lingers, twisting my stomach. “Where are we going and what’s going on? It has to do with Shane, doesn’t it?” I nail her with my gaze. “You have to tell me. Did he have a bad flashback? Did he hurt himself? Spill, Manon.”
But she doesn’t speak for long moments, driving through town, chewing on her lower lip. I’m this close to pulling the handbrake and having us fishtail on the frozen street, just to get her to talk, when she glances at me.
“We were wrong, all of us. There was someone out to get him at that construction site, and today Shane went back to return his gear and he was attacked. He’s okay,” she rushes to say when I flinch and slam my hand into the dashboard. “He’s okay.”
“Is he hurt? Why would someone attack him? Where is he?”
“He called Seth to pick him up from the site. He’s at his apartment. That’s where we’re going.”
“What else did Seth say? Is he hurt? You’re not answering me. Why aren’t you answering me?”
Manon avoids my gaze. “Just some scratches and bruises. He’ll be fine.”
“The hell he will. Oh God.”
“He fought back.” Manon gives me a sidelong look. “He took them down, Cass. Two guys, sent by the men who hurt him in prison with orders to make him suffer. They screwed with his mind, playing on his triggers to make him helpless and weak. And still he fought back.”
“That’s my guy,” I whisper, my eyes burning. “He’s a fighter through and through.”
“He says,” Manon swallows hard before turning her attention to the road, “that he thought of you as he did it. He fought to be with you.”
***
“Where is he?” I demand the moment Seth opens the door to Shane’s apartment. “How is he?”
“Considering what he just went through…” He has a dark scowl on his face as he lets us in. “He’s okay. Better than I thought he’d be.”
“Wasn’t there anyone at that damn construction site to help him?”
“It seems the place was closed today because of a blizzard warning. Those motherfuckers thought of everything.”
I’m shaking with rage at those who hurt my guy. Never thought I’d want to kill someone, yet here I am, seeing red.
And Seth still hasn’t told me where Shane is. He’s not in the living room, though, that much is obvious, so I leave Manon to catch up with Seth and march into the bedroom.
There he is.
Shane is sitting on his bed, shirtless, staring at nothing. His ribcage is bruised black and blue. He has a bandage on his shoulder, and another on his forearm, but there’s something else… something different.
His hair. It’s shorter, falling in uneven tufts in his face.
Without a word, I sit beside him and put my arms around him. He starts, whispers my name, then crushes me to his body so hard I can’t breathe.
“Cass,” he mutters against my hair, “Cass…”
“I’m here. I’m right here.” I’m crying and can’t seem to stop. Stupid, I know. He’s fine, warm and unharmed. I draw back. “I hope you hit those assholes so hard they saw stars.”
“I did.” He gives me a crooked smile and for some reason it makes me cry harder.
“Did you call the police? Why aren’t you at the hospital? And what happened to your hair?”
“They cut my hair off as a trophy.” He blows a strand out of his face. “I talked to the police. And I got stitches at the ER. It’s all done.”
Just like that. Holy crap. All these hours he was in danger, and in pain, and I didn’t know.
“You should have called me,” I whisper, my voice choked.
He gives me a searching look. “I wanted to. But just this once it had to be Seth.”
He doesn’t explain, and I don’t press him. Not tonight, though I hope he’ll tell me why one day.
“You didn’t even have this.” I lift the pendant from my neck. “You left it behind.”
“I don’t need it if I have you,” he says.
“Shane...” I draw a steadying breath. “Told you that you’re the bravest man I know. And I’ll always be here for you, no matter what. I promise. Even if you feel nothing for me, I—”
“Cass.” He cups my face, his dark eyes warm. “I know.”
“But you—”
“God, I love you, Cass.” His thumbs caress my cheekbones as his words slowly sink in.
“You do?”
“Damn right I do. But I’m not what you need. Complicated and difficult and lost half the time inside my head.”
“And you thought I’ll give you up at the first sign of trouble.” I lift my chin. “Well, I won’t. That’s not how it works when you give away your heart to someone.”
Silence stretches between us, and then he lets out a strangled breath.
“Dammit, Cass…” Those pretty eyes of his are filling up with shiny tears. “I won’t magically get well, you know. The flashbacks won’t just stop. I won’t stop having nightmares. There will be times when I won’t recognize you, won’t know where I am. When I’ll make you cry.”
“As long as you keep fighting.” I turn my face to kiss the palm of his hand and will him to understand that I’m serious. “As long as you don’t give up.”
“I won’t,” he says, pressing our foreheads together. “And that’s my promise to you.”
***
At some point, Seth pokes his head inside the room to ask if we’re hungry and leaves without a reply. I can’t speak right now, only hold on to Shane, and he’s also clinging to me like he can’t let go. His chin is heavy on my shoulder and mine on his, my senses drowning in his scent of salt and blood and Shane, the feel of his strong body pressed to mine—solid and strong and whole. Warm and alive.
Can’t believe he got hurt, that he came so close to serious injury—and I can’t imagine how he’s feeling. The fear, the pain, the mind-crushing panic of a return to a past from which he’s been desperately trying to escape.
He’s muttering something against my neck, his breath ruffling my hair. It takes me a long moment to make out the words.
“I’m not going crazy,” he’s whispering with something like awe in his voice. “Oh fuck, I’m not.”
“Of course you’re not,” I whisper back, tightening my embrace. “You never were. Flashbacks are a normal reaction of the mind. Told you. You’re so strong to live through this. Frigging indestructible.”
He snorts softly, relaxes his hold a little, but doesn’t deny it.
With time, I’ll make him see it. Make him believe in himself again. Not because I’m some genius or possess some supernatural ability—but because I love him, and this i
s my personal mission: to see him confident and happy, to pull down his walls and bring out the bright spirit he’s hiding inside. Bring out the boy he used to be.
Just like he’s bringing out the girl I was before Angel died and Mom convinced me she and I weren’t worth anyone’s love anymore. That I had to settle for less.
“I love you,” he says, with his uncanny ability to read my mind. “Always have.”
So I kiss him. His mouth brushes over mine, soft and sweet, and his hands caress my hair, careful. Moving in slow strokes. Showing me what he expressed already with words.
He loves me, and it’s spilling through his touch, his gestures, his gentleness. It’s not that he doesn’t want me—no, I feel the evidence of his arousal caught between us—but the violence pouring out of him every time we got hot and sweaty together before is tempered, kept under wraps.
Maybe he’s realized I’m staying, that I won’t walk away at the first sign of trouble, as I promised.
But maybe it’s more than that.
“Something changed,” I whisper against his warm lips, “right? Tonight. After fighting those men off.”
“In my dreams,” he says, “I could never fight back. Something that chick, Kayla, told me at the wedding reminded me I can. And I was lucky.”
“Lucky?”
“Not everyone gets the chance to reshape their memories, yeah? Beat the demons back. And… not everyone has a home to go back to, afterward. Someone like you waiting for them.”
Aw shucks… This boy. I kiss him again, but it’s not enough. I run my hands over his strong arms, lightly touch the bandages.
“Did you hit them hard? Busted their faces?”
He grunts, licks at my mouth. “Yeah.”
“God, I wish I was there to kick them until they beg for mercy. Bastards. Assholes. Mother—”
“Shh.” He kisses me again, wipes his fingers over my cheeks, scrubbing away tears—the tears he wouldn’t shed. “It’s okay.”
But it’s not, and he flinches when I trail my fingertips over his bruised ribs down to his pants. My hands shaking, I tug at the zipper, fumbling to get them off him, to have him naked in my arms. I want to touch every part of him, make sure he’s really okay, and he starts tearing at my clothes with similar urgency.
