Shane held out his hand and when she took it, he tucked her into his embrace and they walked to his truck. He wanted to say something to her—words that would make her feel better—but he had nothing, mostly because he knew the outlook was bleak and Bobbi had always been a no bullshit kind of girl.
All he had was his warm hand and when he opened the door to his truck for her, she squeezed it, a small gesture but man, it tore at his heart.
They reached his father’s new condo less than five minutes later and after parking, Shane cut the engine and glanced out the window at the new homes. Linked, they were more like townhouses, though both Celia and James had referred to them as condos.
“I haven’t been down here yet,” Bobbi murmured following his gaze. The row in front of them backed onto the water and in the distance he saw the old mill.
“Which one is theirs?”
“Fourteen.”
He glanced at her. “Thanks for coming.”
“Thanks for asking,” she smiled. “So, are we going to do this?”
He grabbed the keys from the ignition and nodded. “Let’s get it done.”
Celia, wearing a soft green scarf around her head, greeted them at the door, opening it before he had a chance to knock or use the doorbell. If Bobbi was shocked by her appearance it didn’t show. He’d warned Bobbi about Celia’s illness and his heart swelled when, after Celia invited them in, Bobbi enveloped the woman in a hug.
“Your place looks amazing,” Bobbi said warmly as they followed Celia into the main living area. The condo was a spacious, open concept one floor plan, with a finished basement. The muted colors, sage green and creams, paired with espresso flooring and furniture, was both classy and welcoming.
The kitchen/family room/dining area faced the water and there was a hallway to the left that Shane assumed led to bedrooms. Gleaming stainless steel appliances, dark cupboards, creamy granite countertops and fancy crystal and silver lighting made the place look like a show piece, and Shane didn’t doubt that his had father spared no expense when he’d bought the condo.
Speaking of his father, Shane rotated his neck, the muscles stiff from stress as he glanced around. The dining room table was set for five—a centerpiece of coral roses and candles dressed it to the max.
Celia must have read his mind. She smoothed her hands over her hips nervously. “James had to take a call. He’s in his office which is in the basement.”
An awkward silence followed.
“Would you like a glass of wine?”
“Yes,” Bobbi answered at the same time he did.
“No.” He attempted a weak smile. “I’m driving so…”
Celia’s pale face stared at him for a heartbeat. “Of course. Let me take your coat.” He handed her his jacket along with Bobbi’s and shoved his hands back into the front pockets of his jeans. He had to do something with them. He couldn’t very well run them up and down Bobbi’s ass searching for those damn elusive panty lines.
The grin that touched her face told him that she knew exactly what he was thinking and when she accepted a glass of wine from Celia, she brushed past him, her hips swaying suggestively.
He needed a distraction because at the moment all the darkness he’d held inside for so long was right there, just on the edge of him mind and he didn’t want it to win. Not tonight. Tonight was a first step and he needed to make damn sure that he made it to step two.
“Celia, is this Eden?”
His head shot up when he heard his sister’s name and he wandered over to where they were looking at a table filled with pictures. It was weird, looking at the family in the photos. A family that looked happy. There were several of James and Celia but most of them were of Eden and surprisingly, there were a few of Shane.
Older photos of course—one from his high school grad, another taken out on the boat. His throat tightened as he gazed at the picture. He remembered that day vividly. His father had taken him out at dawn to fish. It had been warm even at that time in the morning. When the sun had come up his dad had plunked that dumb looking hat on his head and there he was, grinning into the camera as if he was the happiest kid on the planet.
Huh. He guessed at that time he was.
Seeing the pictures there among the others wasn’t something that he had expected and he stepped back, suddenly wishing he’d accepted the damn glass of wine. Screw that. He wished he had asked for something stronger. A lot stronger.
Bobbi asked Celia about the sculpture in the corner and as they drifted over, their feminine voices melting into one, he turned away and eyed the stairs leading to the basement. Before Shane could change his mind he was down them.
He entered a large space that sported high ceilings and because the condo was raised, there were several large windows that he assumed let in a ton of natural light during the daytime. The space was huge, open and again as inviting and warm as upstairs, though there was no hardwood to be seen, only neutral carpeting.
He heard his father talking to someone and assumed his office was down the hall to his right. Shane turned away and glanced at a large flat screen television that took up a good portion of the wall opposite to where he stood. He was impressed. It looked to be at least seventy inches.
That was when he noticed the top of a honey blond head. Eden.
Shit. What did he say to a sister he hadn’t seen in years?
Shane had no idea how long he stared at the back of his sister’s head but he sure as hell nearly jumped out of his skin when he heard his father’s voice a few inches behind him.
“Shane.”
The blond head shot up and he found himself staring into eyes that were a whole hell of a lot like his own. It set him back a bit. He’d forgotten how much their eyes were alike. It was like looking in a mirror.
“Hey, kid,” he said softly, a hesitant smile on his face as he gazed at his sister.
Eyebrows rose. Eyebrows rose really high and the blond head moved as Eden twisted all the way around and slid off the sofa. Long, coltish legs poured into black skinny jeans took a few steps and then stopped. Her feet were bare, but the bright orange paint on her toes looked as if they could light a darkened room they were so bright. Neon bright.
A tight T-shirt clung to a body (nothing like the one he remembered) and it was black also with Metallica in crimson across her chest. Long hair hung, nearly to her waist—he remembered a small pixie cut.
“Do I look like a kid?”
Christ, her voice had changed too or at least, the belligerent tone wasn’t something that he remembered. But then what did he remember exactly? She was a young kid, who, back then hadn’t interested him all that much.
“No,” he answered quietly. “You look all grown up.”
“Well, she’s not grown up,” James interrupted. His father’s face was hard as he glared at his daughter. “And she shouldn’t be wearing all that paint on her face.”
Oddly enough, on this point Shane agreed with James Gallagher, one hundred percent.
Eden rolled her eyes. “Whatever.” She strolled by them and disappeared upstairs leaving the two men alone.
Shane was more than a little unsettled by his almost non-reunion with a sister who obviously didn’t care much whether he was in her life or not.
For a moment the two men stared at each other and in silence. His father looked tired. Old.
“It was nice of you to accept Celia’s dinner invitation.”
Shane nodded, but didn’t answer. His father’s eyes looked watered down and faded and for a moment he didn’t know what to say or do.
“It seems important to her.” James ran a hand through his hair, thick and wavy like Shane’s but shorter and peppered with grey. His father was still a handsome man, but the world was hanging on him. He was a shadow of the man in Shane’s mind and it was unsettling to realize that his father, the man who had always seemed invincible, was made of flesh and blood just like the rest of them.
“She’s dealing with a lot,” James sa
id carefully.
“Yeah, she told me.”
His father nodded and shoved his hands into the front pockets of his charcoal dress pants. His lilac colored tie was loose and the top buttons of his white dress shirt were undone.
Bobbi cleared her throat from the stairs and the two men glanced up at the same time. Her eyes rested on Shane briefly, but he felt the touch. The gentle reminder that she was there for him and in that moment he knew that as long as Bobbi was with him, he would get through a night with a family he barely knew.
He thought that maybe he could get through anything.
She smiled. “Hello Mr. Gallagher.”
His father, for his part, attempted a smile but it came across more or less like a slight grimace and he knew what his father was thinking. Shane and Bobbi. Bad news. Trouble with a capital T. Back in town and already hooking up with the sins of his past.
“Please, call me James.”
She nodded, a slight dip to her head. “Celia wanted me to get you. Dinner is ready.”
Dinner was a delicious. How could it not be, when it had been catered special from Twisted Lemon, a swanky restaurant in the city? The steak was perfect, the lobster exquisite and the grilled vegetables, Parisian potatoes, divine. The wine was well chosen and the dessert cooling on the table looked to die for.
Shane forced the last bit of steak down his throat and glanced around the table. His father had talked very little, answering his wife politely when she addressed him, but for the most part James Gallagher made a show of digging around his plate, and swirling his red wine around his glass like he was some big shot wine taster.
Celia and Bobbi made a good effort, he’d give them that, and kept the conversation rolling, while Eden didn’t say a word other than to tell them that she was a vegetarian and would only be eating the veggies.
He glanced at his watch. It was nearly 7:30. How much longer did he have to stay before it wasn’t deemed impolite to leave? He’d done his thing. He’d come because Celia asked and because he thought that maybe…fuck he didn’t know what he’d been thinking. This felt wrong. All of it felt wrong.
Eden clearly didn’t give a shit about anyone other than herself, but then again, weren’t all teenager’s like that? And sure he felt bad for Celia—he wasn’t that kid anymore, the one who had resented the hell out of her for taking his mother’s place. But it’s not like they were going to be buddies either. He felt bad that the woman was sick but maybe she needed to concentrate on her health instead of some fantasy family that was never going to happen.
Not once had his father uttered a negative, threatening comment. But he felt his father’s eyes on him when James thought no one would notice. He knew something was coming. His father’s threat the other day wasn’t for fun. The guy always followed through and now that Shane was in the process of accepting what his grandfather had left him, he was pretty sure something was headed his way sooner than later.
“Shane, still paints you know.”
Bobbi’s words drew a line down the middle of the table and Shane shot her a look that would freeze most anyone’s blood to ice. Why the hell would she bring that up now? She knew his passion for art and his father’s passion for business was one of the great divides they’d never been able to conquer.
James had loved the fact that his late wife painted, but the same desire in his son was looked upon as being lazy.
James Gallagher, sat back in his chair and took a long drink of his wine. “Yes, I noticed that.”
“He also makes amazing custom furniture.”
Shane’s glare intensified. His personal shit was off limits here. What game was she playing at?
“I noticed you don’t have any furniture in your kitchen yet, Celia.”
They all glanced into the empty space.
“No, I haven’t been able to find the right table. They’re either too small or too wide or…” she shrugged. “I’m not sure if we’ll find anything we like.”
“You should get Shane to design something for you.” Bobbi smiled widely. “He just built Logan Forest a gorgeous harvest table.”
Celia nodded slowly, “I might do that.”
Bobbi, who was sitting to his right, took a sip of wine and leaned close to him, though her eyes were on Celia and he thought she whispered something.
It took a moment for his brain to catch up to his ears. Wait. Did she just say commando?
“You better put an order in soon because I know he’s already got several to work on, including something for Logan’s parents and Doctor Newley.”
“I didn’t know you started your own business, Shane.” Celia said, smiling toward her husband. “Isn’t that wonderful, James?”
His father’s eyes were on him, their depths unreadable. Christ, here we go.
“Commando.”
What? He darted a look at Bobbi and shifted in his seat. Were his ears playing tricks on him?
“Shane works for Logan Forest,” James answered his wife, his eyes still on Shane before he turned to Celia. “He builds motorcycles these days.”
“Oh,” Celia said, her fingers grasped around the stem of her wine glass like it was a lifeline. She had abstained from the alcohol and instead was sipping on water. “But if you love making furniture Shane, why don’t you open your own business?” She glanced from Shane to her husband. “You have your inheritance. There shouldn’t be any issues.”
Shane’s eyes were on his father’s. “Well, there is actually,” he said with a smile. “The whole parole thing does have its limitations.”
“Oh,” Celia said, gulping some water. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think.”
Shane shrugged. “Don’t worry about it. It is what it is. I make furniture in my spare time. I like using my hands. Keeping busy.”
“And he paints,” Bobbi said cheekily, before she leaned close to him and coughed.
And then whispered under her breath so only he could hear, ‘Commando’
James sat back in his chair and nodded. “And he paints.”
“You paint?”
The words flew at him from across the table. From the petulant mouth of a teen who glared at him. The teen who up until now had acted as if he was the most uninteresting thing on the planet.
“You paint like houses?”
Shane shook his head. “No. I paint people…portraits.”
Bobbi rested her elbows on the table. “He just finished one…what was it called?”
She glanced his way and bit her lip. He knew that look all too well and his body was already tightening in response. “What did you call it?”
Shane frowned. The last painting he’d completed was of his old buddy from prison, Wilson. It didn’t have a name and it certainly--
“Commando? Was that it?”
He rested his hand on her thigh, smiling across the table at Eden and Celia. “I don’t know that I ever gave it a name.”
His hand slipped between her legs and thankfully the centerpiece hid the fact that it crept higher and higher as Celia began a long conversation about some art gallery she’d been to the year before on a trip to New York City. By the time she was done chatting about art, Shane had no idea whose exhibit she’d been to and he really didn’t care. His hand was so far up Bobbi’s thighs, there between her legs that Bobbi’s fingers now gripped the table tightly and he could feel how wet she was through the material of her tights.
Wet and hot.
When James pushed back his chair signalling dinner was done, Shane leaned forward, blocking his father’s view with his shoulder. He inhaled her scent as he gave her one last, generous rub with his fingers and as uncomfortable as he was, with his dick so tight and hard he was barely able to sit still, it was worth it. Totally fucking worth it to watch her gasp and bite her bottom lip. Christ, he hadn’t done anything like this since…
His finger caressed her once more and a wicked smile tugged on his mouth. He hadn’t done anything like since that disastrous Christmas dinner he’d invited h
er to and they’d had sex in the laundry room while his family served dessert.
With one final touch, he withdrew his hand and whispered softy, “Commando.”
She glanced up at him, her wine glass empty, her face flushed with need for him. For him.
“That’s a good word.” He winked. “I think it’s my new favorite.”
Chapter Twenty-two
A few weeks later, on a Friday night, Bobbi was alone at Shane’s place. She sat in front of the fire watching flames lick the top of the hearth, Pia curled into her lap. Absently, she stroked the dog’s fur, smiling slightly as the animal bumped her head against her palm and moaned, a weird little grunt of pleasure that sounded more human than some humans Bobbi knew.
She laid her head back onto the sofa, closed her eyes and enjoyed the quiet. The stereo was on, the volume low, and the distinct sounds of The Fray brought a smile to her face. Like the Stones, they were a favorite. One of theirs. Shane and Bobbi’s.
And just like warmed up meatloaf, sledding across the lake under a winter moon, or waking up together on a Saturday morning…it belonged to them.
Every time she heard The Fray, it made her think of that one summer, the summer when she’d fallen totally and helplessly in love with Shane. Her chest tightened as she let the emotion of the lyrics wash over her. How to Save a Life.
She thought she’d lost him. Hell, she thought they’d lost each other and now…now she was scared of the possibilities. Because Bobbi knew she wasn’t strong enough to lose Shane again, just like she knew she wasn’t strong enough to come clean with him yet. To wipe the slate and offer up a nice, shiny new black one.
Shane probably didn’t realize it yet but he’d already done that with his family. He had turned the page and was heading into a new chapter.
She thought back to the dinner they’d shared with his father. It had been interesting—not overly warm, not nearly as boisterous as a Barker family gathering, but still…there was something between all them—the Gallagher’s—and even if they couldn’t see it, she was pretty damn sure they felt it.
It was in the stolen glances from father to son when they thought no one would notice. The way Eden twirled her hair and said nothing and everything with her silence. The way Celia fussed over James, even though she was the one who was sick.
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