“I love you!”
My chest feels like it snaps so hard, my mouth clamps shut.
“I love you,” he says again. “And that's not your fault, that is all me. But it's true and I am definitely on the hook.”
And this is what I didn’t want. Because I love him too, but I can’t tell him that, because none of this is real. It’s all temporary. I have to go back to my life and he has to go back to his. We can’t pretend we didn’t meet over my sliced scalp and the barrel of that blessed shotgun. We can’t pretend that I didn’t just sprint like a mad woman through the woods to get away from the ghost of my almost killer and maybe even Shep himself, not fifteen minutes before. I’m too fucked up for him. Too messy. He deserves better. Someone who can give him everything, a fresh start. Trauma free. I love him, but that will never be me.
“Don't forget your charger. It's still in the wall right there.”
I glance at the outlet on my side of the bed, then back at him. He’s walking out the door. “Shep.”
“Yeah?”
There’s nothing I can say. Nothing I can do to fix this. I need to leave this man alone so he can finally get on with his life without me twisting and fucking everything up.
He nods, like he knows. I’m not woman enough for him. I’m too chickenshit to be what he needs. “Don't worry about it,” he says. “I know you’re a pro behind the wheel, but driving down is still tricky even in good weather. Let me know when you're ready to go. You can follow me back down.” He doesn’t wait for me to respond. He just walks out of the bedroom. A few seconds later I hear the front door slam.
Seventeen
Shep
Idon’t punchany trees, but I do all the pacing I can and by the time Claudia comes out on the porch and lets me know she’s ready to go, my blood pressure is somewhat back to normal. It’s a dick move, but I don’t say goodbye the way I should. I don’t kiss her. I don’t hug her. I don’t push her hair off her face one more time and touch the end of that scar on her forehead. I don’t wrap her in my arms and tell her what I really think of her or how the real her makes me feel, not just the version of her that’s been living in my head for the last six months.
I don’t tell her we’re cool or that I understand. I don’t say that it is a big deal that she’s splitting early. She would have been leaving in a few days anyway, but we’re not cool and I’ll never understand what the fuck just happened between us and why I think she owes me anything. It’s better if I keep my fucking mouth shut and let her be on her way. I don’t tell her that she should have just left me the fuck alone.
I just climb behind the wheel of my truck and wait for her to get into her rental. It hasn’t started snowing yet, but I still go slow as we drive down to the bottom of the mountain and then pull over to the side of the road and wave her on. She pulls up beside me and stops. I see her roll down her window. I roll down mine, but I have nothing to say to her.
“I’ll call you before I take off,” she says.
I want to tell her she doesn’t need to. She doesn’t need to check in with me. I’m not her next of kin or her emergency contact. Where she goes from here is none of my business. She has friends who she can check in with. She should call them. But I don’t tell her that. I say okay and tell her to drive safe. She’s smart and doesn’t draw this shit out a moment longer. She drives away. It starts snowing on my way back up the mountain.
Claudia knows better than to call me before her flight takes off. Maybe she doesn’t want to hear my voice. I don’t want to hear hers. I don’t want to hear anything she has to say. She sends me a text instead.
Taking off in five.
Thank you for letting me stay.
I text her back right away. We’re not leaving room for second guessing.
Safe travels.
I don’t hear from her again.
I drink for almost three days. It doesn’t snow much and what does fall melts when the temperature suddenly rises and the snow turns to rain. I don’t drive anywhere and I know where to avoid ravines and steep falls when I take Titus stumbling through the woods. I come to a few conclusions, mostly that I don’t know what the fuck I was thinking. My dick isn’t a magic wand. I wasn’t going to save her. I wasn’t going to heal her with my kisses or however much I decided to jizz all over her back. And I sure as fuck wasn’t going to fix myself.
Friday morning, I’m out of whisky. After I finish my morning expedition, send off my images, and sit through two conference calls that could have been emails, I feel like I should go down to pick up more alcohol. Spending the weekend in a nearly blacked out state is the best plan I can come up with. I send off some assets for review and try to clear my head long enough to find my jacket. I’m looking for my keys when my cellphone rings. It’s May-Bell.
“Saint?” she says bashfully and I know she feels bad. She hasn’t called me that in years. She’s testing the waters to see if I’ll hang up on her.
“Hey, May,” I reply.
“Neither of us are much for hem and haw, so I’ll just get right to the point. Jad and I are really sorry about what happened the other night. I know Claudia is heading out soon, but we were hoping you two would stop by for lunch before she has to go. We want to apologize to her and you. Properly.”
“She already left,” I say.
“Oh. We just missed her?”
“No. She left on Tuesday.”