A Reason To Live (Reason #3)

by CP Smith

  Shane leaned down and grabbed another log as Max made his way over to him. He refused to look him in the face, knew if he saw pity looking back, he’d lose his cool again.

  “I see Maxine hasn’t lost her touch,” he muttered as Max walked up and leaned against a tree.

  “Nope.”

  Silence ensued as Shane raised his ax and swung hard. When the log broke apart, he repeated the action again and again until he couldn’t take the silence any longer.

  “Just say whatever it is you came to say,” he bit out.

  “All right,” Max said, pushing off the tree. “I’ve known you all my life, Shane. There’s not a better man around or a more loyal friend than you are. I don’t know what happened with Sage’s sister, or why you think it’s your fault, but I do know there’s no way in hell you purposely did anything to harm that woman. I don’t need the details; I just need you to know that I’m here when you’re ready to talk."

  Shane stared back at Max, assessing. There was no pity written on his face. Only the acceptance of a man who’d known him all his life. After carrying around the burden of guilt for the past year, the thought of laying it out for someone who understood him was tempting. So tempting that he found himself letting it all hang out.

  “She couldn’t handle being in the trenches,” he started. “I knew this and should have requested a transfer. But there was a drive in her to better herself that kept me from following my instincts. She was nineteen fuckin’ years old, Max. She should have been at home on a date with some kid, but now she’s dead because I didn’t want to crush her spirit.”

  “Did you force her to enlist?” Max asked.

  “No,” he answered with a frustrated sigh.

  “Pull the trigger or explode the bomb that killed her?”

  “No.”

  “Was she a danger to the rest of your unit?”

  “No, but that doesn’t change a thing.”

  “I agree, it doesn’t, but it also doesn’t mean it was your fault. You’re a man like me,” Max pointed out.

  “I’m worse,” Shane countered. “Always have been and you know it.”

  Max paused, then nodded. He knew Shane’s natural inclinations ran deeper than his. They were like-minded; in fact, it was his possessive nature and need for control that had formed their bond in early childhood. That, and the fact they found out they were distantly related on his father's side through their great-great-great-great grandparents. But Shane took his need for control to a different level. So much so, Max knew Shane’s head would explode if he tied himself to a woman like Mia. Where Max liked control, Shane demanded it, and that would never fly with his tenacious wife.

  “Agreed, you're worse. But like me, you take your responsibility to those who depend on you seriously. You feel like you fucked up even though you didn’t, and I get that. But in time you’ll see that some things are out of our control like I did when I lost my dad. I should have been the one directing the men the day he died, but I wasn’t. I knew his hearing was going, but I didn’t want to make him feel less of a man because of it. Now he’s gone and there isn’t a damn thing I can do about it but accept that shit happens and then deal with it the best I can. Simple as that.”

  Shane had just left Trails End for the Army when Max’s father was crushed by a tree. He hadn’t been here to see the aftermath of what his death had done to Max. But knowing Max as well as he did, he knew that even ten years later, he was holding on to some of the guilt.

  “Jesus, you’ve turned into your father,” Shane grunted as he considered Max’s advice.

  Max nodded at the compliment, and then, just like his father would do for Max when he was screwing up, he laid it out for Shane. “I know guilt like this takes some time to process, I get that. And looking back now on the last year, some of your decisions and actions make more sense. But hear me when I say you need to find another way to cope. Especially when it comes to my wife.”

  Shane’s lips twitched when he saw the fire in Max’s eyes.

  “Figured it out, did you?”

  “Yeah, and for the record, I’m not gonna beat the shit out of you for flirting with Mia just so you can feel like you’ve been punished,” Max bit out.

  “I’ll bear that in mind.”

  “That would be the smart thing to do,” Max replied, punctuating his answer with a glare.

  Seeing Max’s every action directed by his love for a woman still amazed Shane, and his face broke into a smile. The king of the mountain had fallen hard.

  “Well, I’ve always been smart,” Shane conceded with a smirk.

  “That, you have. Now, enough bullshit. Get me a beer and then tell me how my company is holding up after two weeks without me.”

  Shane had visited the past enough for one day, so he lay down his ax, slapped Max on the shoulder, and jerked his head toward the house for him to follow.

  When they entered his kitchen, Shane grabbed a beer for Max as he organized the last two weeks in his head.

  “That woman has a backbone, I’ll give her that,” Max mumbled as Shane handed him a beer. “And a great rack in case you missed it.”

  “Jesus, Max, if you want me to stop flirting with your wife, I suggest you don’t bring up how perky her breasts are when I’m around.”

  “What did I just say about this shit?” Max guffawed.

  “You brought it up.”

  “I’m talking about Sage,” he gritted out.

  Max watched in fascination as Shane’s face blanked of emotion at the mention of her name. Then a spark ignited like lightning in a storm. Max grinned slowly as he popped the top of his beer. Oh, how the tables had turned. He’d watched their encounter closely, curious as to whom the woman was, and in between all the shouting, he could tell Shane was highly attracted to her. Seeing his possessive side ignite at the mention of Sage’s generous breasts confirmed his suspicions.

  “Don’t go there,” Shane ordered.

  “Interesting name, don’t you think?” Max continued, leaning against the wall, fully enjoying Shane’s discomfort.

  Shane continued to glare as he grabbed another beer. He didn’t want to think about Sage Sloan’s name or her rack . . . Or her fuckin’ lips. Even so, he still found himself asking, “Did she leave?”

  “I doubt it.”

  “Why’s that?” he asked, pissed at himself for hoping she hadn’t left.

  “Maxine took a shine to her.”

  “Christ,” Shane grumbled, rolling his eyes toward the ceiling.

  “Yeah.” Max grinned. “The poor woman doesn’t have a clue what she’s in for.”

  ***

  “Bathroom’s down the hall, kitchen’s through the great room, and the hot tub is off the kitchen. You can bunk in here,” Maxine pointed out as she showed me around her three-bedroom cabin. “Okay, now that you have the lay of the land, I’ll whip you up something to eat.”

  “You don’t have—”

  “No bother, no bother at all,” Maxine interrupted. “Why don’t you jump in the hot tub while I’m cooking? It does wonders for what ails you, and while you’re soaking, I’ll call Chester and let him know you need to speak with him.”

  “Maxine, I appreciate the room and all, but I don’t suspect I’ll be staying past tomorrow. There’s no need to involve the police.”

  “And I say there is no place better than Trails End to lie low for a while. You know people here now, and we’ll watch your back.”

  “Yes, but Sergeant—”

  “Shane,” she corrected.

  “Shane . . . He won’t want me to stick around. I stirred up raw emotions he was dealing with, and now I’ve made it worse. It would be best if—”

  Maxine butted in and floored me with her response. “What if I said the only person who can help him is you?”

  “How do you figure?” I asked.

  “If he’s feeling guilty about your sister’s death, then who better to help him get past it than the one person who knows exactly how he f
eels?”

  She was right on that account. That’s why support groups were so successful because those who participated didn’t feel alone. However, in Shane’s case, my presence was a deterrent.

  “I’m not sure he’ll see it that way.”

  “No, I don’t suppose he will. But that’s neither here nor there when it comes to what is best for him. You leave that to me. Just go soak your bones and don’t worry about a thing.”

  “I honestly believe I should leave town,” I pushed again.

  “And I honestly think you need to get in my hot tub and quit talkin’ about leavin’. Besides, at my age and with my medical condition, it might put me in the hospital if you leave. I’ll worry somethin’ fierce about you out there all alone.”

  That caught me off guard. For one, she looked healthy to me. Secondly, no one else treated her as if she were fragile. If anything, they didn’t hold back one iota.

  “If you’re sick, that’s all the more reason—”

  “Arguing makes it worse . . .” She grinned.

  She was totally lying now.

  Why?

  “All right, I’ll stay for now, but please don’t trouble yourself on my account. I’m not hungry. I’ll just retire and get out of your hair.”

  “No! Just go soak in the hot tub like I said,” she replied exasperated.

  “But I didn’t bring a suit.”

  “Don’t need one. There’s no one around for miles,” she explained and then turned and headed down the hall.

  I watched her retreat, then hauled my duffle and backpack into the bedroom and fell on the bed. I was exhausted. I’d spent two days traveling to Trails End because I kept backtracking to make sure no one was following me. The muscles in my neck were stiff from all the traveling and my nerves were frayed after my encounter with Shane. Pulling my phone from my pocket, I sent a quick text to my mother telling her I’d arrived safely in Anchorage. I hated lying, but it was better this way.

  Lying down on the bed, I closed my eyes and thought about my encounter with Shane. I’d been in town all of an hour when I asked where I could find the Sergeant. And no matter whom I asked, I received the same response. “This time of day, Last Call.”

  So I’d headed there on the off chance they were right and surprisingly found him in the parking lot as I pulled in. I’d sat in my Jeep a few minutes, watching him. He’d changed in the year since I’d seen him. His hair was longer and instead of a uniform, he wore faded jeans and a flannel shirt. He looked almost wild compared to the spit and shine officer I’d met. He seemed bigger than I remembered as if he’d spent the past year bulking up, and the woman in me stood up and took notice. So much so, my heart beat wildly at the thought of speaking to him and by the time I got the nerve to approach him, my mouth was dry.

  But no matter how much he’d changed since Emma’s funeral, his eyes hadn’t. The pain they’d held at the funeral, the smoky depths that captured your attention and pulled you in, were no different when he’d turned and directed them at me fully. Even so, it was all I could do to speak. Everything about him screamed MAN! He wasn’t some hipster version of one with their lumberjack beards or a monster hiding under the guise of a man, but a red-blooded, genuine article, wouldn’t-lay-a-hand-on-a-woman-no-matter-what-she’d-done male.

  The kind of man you knew would fight back your demons and keep you safe. The type of man who saw women as equals, but still maintained a masculinity that you naturally wanted to follow. The kind that believed if you belonged to them, then they belonged to you completely. And most importantly, the type of man I’d yet to meet in my life and wanted desperately to find.

  Recognition had immediately sparked across his face before the pain had replaced his shock. Thinking about it now, I never wanted to see pain like that on his face again. For someone as brave as my sister said he was, a man among men, I knew it had to be eating at him to show that kind of weakness to anyone.

  The longer I lay there thinking about Shane, the more I stiffened up. Relaxing in a hot tub sounded like heaven right about then, but miles from neighbors or not, I wasn’t going in naked. So I discarded my bra, threw on an old T-shirt, but decided to keep my shorts on until I got in the hot tub.

  Maxine was on the phone when I entered the kitchen; it was a cook’s paradise with stainless steel appliances and marble counter tops. I motioned toward the back door and she smiled, shooing me out with her hand. As I passed the center island, I froze. Sitting in a stack next to a large, pink bag were catalogs for Passion Princess Sex Toys. When I looked back at Maxine in shock, she reached out and handed me one. I took it so I wouldn’t insult her, then turned quickly in embarrassment and headed out the door.

  “Grandma Maxine sells sex toys,” I mumbled. After the week I’d had, it tickled my funny bone, more than it should. I threw my head back and laughed, relaxing my pent-up nerves.

  I couldn’t wait to tell Emma Jane about Trails End and the people I met during my stay.

  The hot tub was already bubbling, so I took off my shorts and climbed in. The sun was lower in the sky finally; it was sunset, which generally hit around midnight in July, and the stars were beginning to twinkle. Before I knew it, I was drifting off to the sound of frogs calling out to their mates.

  ***

  The sun had finally set, so Shane kicked back in a chair with a beer, watching, but not hearing a damn word they said on ESPN. He was chewing on what Max had said while Sage’s words also bounced around.

  You’re off balance, Sergeant; you need something concrete to hold on to, a reason to live.

  “A reason to live?” he mumbled.

  He’d had that once. Had dreams to fulfill and a life he wanted to build. But the past year he’d shoved it out of his mind in order to get up each day. He was coasting through life on autopilot and he knew it. Taking each day as it came instead of living it.

  “Christ,” he spat out and then sat back and ran a hand over his face. Reaching for his beer, he curled his lips around the rim as his cell phone began to ring, so he reached out and answered it without looking.

  Even though it was midnight, the sun had just set. During the summer months, folks in Trails End didn’t keep to a normal schedule. They stayed up and enjoyed the sun while they had it, so it wasn’t unusual to receive a call late at night.

  “You got Shane,” he answered around a swallow of beer.

  “You got Maxine.”

  He sighed when he heard her reply and set his bottle down.

  “Maxine, I’m tired and don’t want a repeat of our earlier conversation.”

  “Whatever. I’m not calling to bust your chops anyway. I wanted to know if I could borrow one of your guns.”

  “I’m sorry? I must have heard you wrong.”

  “A gun, Shane. Do you have a gun I could borrow?”

  “All right, I’ll bite. What in the ever lovin’ name of God do you want with one of my guns?”

  “It’s not for me, it’s for Sage.”

  “Sage?”

  “Yeah, you know Sage. Pretty little thing with the big, green eyes and large . . . Well, you know. Anyway, she’s got some crazy person after her and I wanted to give her a gun so she could protect herself,” Maxine explained.

  Shane sat straight up at her explanation and narrowed his eyes. “You wanna explain what you mean by she has a crazy person after her?”

  “Well, according to her, she’s been receiving threatening notes and gifts. The kind that would send you running to the mountains to hide, poor thing. You see, she works with Child Protective Services and helps decide who gets custody of abused or neglected kids. She seems to think someone who lost custody of a child isn’t too pleased with her.”

  “Jesus, Maxine, you go to the police when you’re threatened, you don’t go gallivanting around the mountains unprotected.”

  “She knows that, Shane . . .”

  “. . . And?” Shane finally asked when she didn’t elaborate.

  “They said they couldn’t do a
dang thing until she was physically harmed. Can you believe it?”

  “Say that again?” he ordered.

  “No, I don’t suppose a man like you with all your training could believe it any more than I did. Anyhoo, that’s why I’m calling. Can she borrow a gun? If the police don't help her, then I will. I was gonna show her how to shoot and maybe throw an ax, then I’ll—”

  “I’ll be there in ten,” he clipped short then hung up and grabbed his keys.

  Ten minutes later, he pulled up in front of Maxine’s cabin and found Chester’s police cruiser sitting in the drive. He was instantly mad at his friend. A tiny woman like Sage deserved police protection, not the runaround or bureaucratic red tape.

  He didn’t knock when he reached the door; he walked straight in like he’d done all his life. He heard voices coming from the kitchen and found Martha Tallchief, Chester’s mother and the town’s postmaster and head gossip, sitting with Maxine at her table drinking coffee. Unlike Maxine, Martha was a stout woman with short, gray hair of Native American heritage and she dressed like most of the men in town. Flannel shirt and work boots. Shane scanned the room but didn’t see his old friend.

  “Where’s Chester?”

  “Talking with Sage, I suppose.”

  “Where’s Sage?’

  “Out on the deck,” she answered with a grin.

  Shane turned and headed for the deck, his earlier decision to stay away from Sage forgotten in the wake of the danger to her person. When he opened the door and stepped outside, he froze in place. Sage was bent at the waist, pulling on shorts over a heart-shaped ass, her T-shirt soaked from having been in the hot tub, and Chester was watching her as she dressed. Chester was an old friend, one he trusted until that moment. At nearly six-foot, Chester didn’t have Shane‘s height of six-foot-two, nor his bulk. The only man bigger in town than Shane was Max. But Chester was a good-looking Native American man with black eyes and a wicked smile the ladies loved, and right then, knowing he was watching Sage, Shane hated him.

  Sage turned when she heard the door shut, and her gaze locked with his. Her white shirt clung to her curves, transparent from the water. When he caught a glimpse of rose-colored nipples, possessiveness the likes he’d never felt surged, and he erupted, knowing full well Chester couldn’t have missed the sight.