It Takes Two (22 page)

There was a long pause on Ryan’s end of the phone. “You mean, if it was the right thing for us to break up?”

Shane closed his eyes. “Yeah.”

“Then I think I’d work on making it
not
the right thing to do.”

“Ryan, I—”

“Shit. Shane, here, talk to Conner.”

“No!” Shane barked. “I don’t want to talk to Conner.”

Hell, Isabelle’s brother was the
last
person he ever wanted to talk to about any of this.

“Fine. Talk to Sara.”

“Sara who?”

“Sara Gordon. She brought cookies down here and Mac’s changing into his uniform and Conner’s flirting her up and Mac’s gonna kill him if he walk in and finds this.”

“I don’t want to talk to Sar—”

But a sweet voice said, “Uh, hello? Shane?”

Dammit. “Hey, Sara.”

“Hey. Ryan says you’re having some woman problems and could use some female advice.” She laughed lightly. “I guess I’m nominated since I’m the only girl here right now.”

Shane wondered where Gabby and Sierra—the two female paramedics on Conner and Ryan’s team—were. He liked Gabby. She was gorgeous and no-nonsense. Not a bad combination at all. She’d tell him straight up what she thought. Sierra was quieter. Shane always had the impression that he intimidated her. He was loud and rowdy so that happened sometimes. He grinned. But not with Gabby.

Or Sara Gordon for that matter. She lived with Mac. And hung out with Dooley and Sam. A little loud and rowdy wouldn’t faze her.

Well, what the hell? A little objective female perspective might not hurt.

“I’m fighting with my girlfriend.”

“Isabelle, right?”

He should have known Sara would know who he was talking about. The women often sat together in the stands for their games.

“Yeah. I’m mad at her,” he confessed, surprising himself. He was mad at her. He just wasn’t sure he should be. She was dealing with a lot of stuff, she was trying to figure stuff out with her health.

Except that she wasn’t.

He felt his jaw tighten again. She wasn’t trying all that hard. In fact, it seemed to him that she was pretty deep in denial, as a matter of fact.

Sara chuckled. “Well, that happens in relationships. What are you fighting about?”

Shane found a spot at the end of the sidewalk to lean against the building where he could avoid a majority of the crowd coming and going and have a few inches to breathe.

Which he did, before saying, “She didn’t trust me with some things I think she should have told me about.”

“Ah.”

That was it. Just
ah
.

“What’s that mean?” he asked with a frown.

“Well, trust is important. But you have to earn trust. Is there some reason she thought she couldn’t be honest with you?”

Yeah, this was making him feel great. Good phone call. Shane sighed. “Yes, Sara, there was probably some reason she thought she couldn’t be honest with me.” Like her thinking that he wouldn’t love her anymore. Or that she wouldn’t love him anymore.

“That’s on both of you,” Sara said matter-of-factly. “But it’s okay for you to be mad at her about it.”

“Yeah?” He didn’t feel okay about it. He felt like he was being as ass.

“Couples fight,” Sara said simply. “It’s how you figure how what’s important.”

“And what if you can’t solve the problem? What if fighting is all there is?”

That was his real fear here. That he simply couldn’t be the guy Isabelle wanted. And that was assuming Isabelle figured out what that guy looked like eventually.

Sara’s tone softened. “I don’t know everything about relationships, Shane. But I do know that no matter what happens, no matter what drives you crazy, no matter what sacrifices you have to make, you have to be happy together. Being with her has to be the thing that matters most. If she makes you happy and you make her happy, the rest will be okay. Not necessarily easy, but okay.”

Shane didn’t notice all the people milling around or the noise or the smell of car exhaust or the feel of the rough wood at his back.

Sara’s words hit him hard.

He needed Isabelle to be happy. That he knew down deep in his bones. And he really, really wanted to be the one to make Isabelle happy.

That was pretty simple.

It was the walking away from her that was going to be hard.

“Thanks, Sara.”

“Well, sure. I mean, I hope I helped.”

She had. Kind of. She hadn’t exactly filled him with hope and joy, but she had given him good advice.

He loved Isabelle. He wanted her to be happy. Even if
he
wasn’t the one to make her that way.

“Can I talk to Ryan again?”

“Yeah, sure. Hang on.”

“Oh, and Sara? Do me a favor and
don’t
mention to Conner that I’m fighting with his sister.”

Conner didn’t like Shane and Isabelle being together and as far as Shane knew, everyone was keeping the news that Shane was on this trip with Iz a secret from her big brother. And Conner also didn’t like when Shane upset Isabelle. As he had been doing for a good portion of this trip.

Sara laughed. “I’ve got your back.”

Ryan came back on the line as Shane moved to a vacated seat on a wooden bench in front of the drug store. He was feeling heavy and tired and not like dealing with other people at all. Especially tourists.

And there were a lot of them here.

“Why is this place overrun with tourists?” he asked Ryan when his friend returned to the line. “It’s freaking March.”

“Spring break, man,” Ryan said.

Ah. Shit.

“Hey, I thought you should know…” he said to his friend, hesitant to even say it out loud. “I’m going to grab a rental car here in the morning and head back to pick my bike up in Mitchell. Do you think you can get Amanda out here to be with Isabelle for the week at the cabin?”

“You’re leaving?” Ryan asked. “No way.”

“I have to.” Shane rubbed his hand over the back of his neck. Fuck. He definitely had to. He felt like his insides were a jumbled mess of raw nerve endings. He was jumpy and pissed and confused and he was…never any of those things. “We need some space. We need to figure some things out.”

“You’re breaking up with her? Or should I say, you’re letting her break up with you?” Ryan asked.

“I don’t know. I think we need some time. Maybe just a break.”

“Fuck,” Ryan muttered. “This is bad.”

“Tell me about it.”

“Amanda is going to be
pissed
at you,” Ryan told him.

“Yeah.” Like she was the only one. Or even the meanest one.

Conner would be happy that Shane and Isabelle were no longer a couple. Happier than he had been when Isabelle had broken up with Shane after Vegas. After that, Shane had still pursued her, still hung around, still looked out for her.

But that didn’t mean that Conner wouldn’t be pissed at Shane for leaving her in the Black Hills. Or for making her cry. Or for dating her in the first place.

Conner was the quarterback for a very successful, very
fit
football team. He was well liked by his teammates. He was their leader, their captain, their friend. If he told the defensive linemen to make sure Shane was sore after practice a time or two—or seventeen—they would, no questions asked.

“Okay, well, sit tight,” Ryan said. “I’ll be sure Amanda gets out there, but don’t even think about leaving until she’s there.”

“No problem.” He wouldn’t leave Isabelle alone. But he would leave her. If that was really what would make her happy.

They disconnected and Shane sat staring at the row of cars parked at an angle to the curb. Three backed out and three more pulled in right after them. The car doors slammed. A mom shouted for her kids to remember their backpacks. Another family unloaded a stroller and a wheelchair—one for the baby and one for grandma. A pickup honked at a car that pulled out without looking. A dog, left in the backseat with the windows open enough for fresh air, barked at the teenage girls who passed his SUV. A guy walked by, hitting Shane’s knee with his plastic bag of purchases.

Fuck, there were people and noise
everywhere
.

He needed to
think
. He needed to figure out how to tell Isabelle he was spooked.

Because he was.

She was right. Six more months and they’d be in deep. Even now it felt impossible to think about not being with her. But every time he started to think that it was no big deal, he felt his gut twist. It was a big deal and they owed it to themselves and each other to be honest about that.

“Do you know how to tie shoes?”

Shane was pulled from his thoughts by the little voice next to him. He looked to his right. A little boy, probably about six years old, sat licking an ice cream cone. His legs were short enough that they stuck straight out, the blue, orange and green logo on his pristine white tennis shoes glinting in the sun. Sure enough, one lace hung untied.

“Uh, yeah,” he told him.

He’d helped easily a hundred kids over the years with everything from chasing down a renegade puppy to escaping an abusive adult, but he wasn’t in the mood right now. Further proof that he was an asshole.

He glanced around. A woman in her early thirties stood two feet away, talking on her cell phone, her eyes glued to the little boy. She certainly didn’t look concerned about her son making a new friend with the strange adult next to him. But she wasn’t ignoring the kid either.

“You need some help there?” Shane asked the kid, watching the vanilla ice cream run down the back of his hand and drip onto his denim shorts.

“Well,
I
don’t know how to tie,” the boy told him.

Right. He reached over, tied the shoe, then went back to staring at the front bumper of the black Chevy Silverado, trying to get his thoughts together.

“Can you hold my ice cream cone?”

Shane glanced at the little boy again, then over to his mom. She was still on the phone.

“I probably shouldn’t,” he told the kid.

“Why not?”

“Because I’m a stranger. You should have your mom help you.”

“She’s on the phone. She doesn’t like it if I talk to her while she’s on the phone.”

Shane sighed. Of course she didn’t. He shot her an irritated look—which she missed because she was digging in her purse.

“How long do you need me to hold it?” he asked the boy.

“Twenty minutes.”

Yeah, a six-year-old probably didn’t have a great sense of time. “Fine.” He held out his hand. As long as the kid was quiet while he held the cone, what could it hurt?

The boy handed the ice cream over and Shane winced. The cone had been filled with melting ice cream long enough to get a little mushy and sticky. Great.

The kid scrambled off the bench and knelt in the tiny patch of dirt near the edge of the curb where minuscule weeds sprouted. He poked a finger into the dirt and started swirling it around.

Fine. The kid was preoccupied. Shane tried to focus again on him and Isabelle.

He thought Isabelle was who and what he wanted. But he had to be completely honest—could he and Isabelle be what the other truly needed? They wouldn’t know for sure until they tried. But he was beginning to think that they needed to try back home, rather than at the cabin. This was a lifestyle change for both of them. And that would be best tested in their regular environment.

It had nothing to do with him still being a little leery of the week-long knitting-marathon idea.

“Can you hold my spider?”

With a heavy sigh—that a six-year-old would never understand or appreciate anyway—Shane looked down. Sure enough, the kid held a spider in his hand. The hand that had previously been sticky with ice cream and was now coated with dirt.

“I don’t like spiders.”

“But I can’t eat ice cream and hold my daddy long legs.”

“You should let the spider go. He lives here and needs to stay here with his family.”

“But he’s my pet.”

“Well, dude, you’re gonna have to pick between the bug and the ice cream.” He held the cone up to remind the kid of what he might be giving up.

He had much bigger stuff to be contemplating here, couldn’t the kid see that?

Shane gritted his teeth as ice cream dripped and ran over his knuckles.

“’Kay, I’m done with that,” the kid told him, pointing to the ice cream.

Of course he was.

Shane stretched to his feet and tossed the cone into the trashcan. “Tell you what, I’ll give you a dollar for the spider.” Shane pulled his wallet out.

“Okay!”

Yeah, that’s what he thought. He handed the kid the money, took the spider and waited for the kid to run to his mom. The woman looked very confused about how her son’s ice cream had turned into a dollar, but Shane figured that served her right for not taking care of the untied shoe and the melting ice cream herself. She was going to have to now deal with the dirty handprint on her light blue shorts. She should be grateful she didn’t have a new creepy-crawly friend too.