Unfixable (7 page)

Unfortunately, uncomfortable is kind of my thing. I do uncomfortable like a squeaky, plastic couch cover. It’s not intentional. But when you spend your childhood nights locked in your bedroom, hiding from your mother’s johns while your sister tries to drown the animalistic grunts with loud country music and a pillow over your ears, Evan’s kind of normal ceases to be a possibility.

Shane’s stare drags me back to the here and now. “He belonged with someone more like Faith.” When I hear myself say it, I realize the thought has been germinating for a while. Oddly, I don’t feel an ounce of resentment over it. More like, wistfulness. Not a typical emotion for me at all, which is probably why I missed it. “He couldn’t make me into a Faith. I didn’t fit the mold. And I tried.” I take a deep breath. “I did.”

“No.” Shane pushes off the wall and comes toward me. Every inch of my skin breaks out into goose bumps, but I’m rooted to the floor. His gaze is fixed so firmly on me, for a fleeting second I wonder if it’s a tangible thing, keeping me from moving an inch in either direction. He stops right in front of me. “You didn’t try at all.”

“Beg pardon?”

“If someone like you tries, you don’t fail. Deep down you didn’t really want to change.”

His words are like a battering ram to the chest, emptying my lungs of oxygen. I can’t swallow around the golf ball in my throat. I’ve been wondering where the whopping case of guilt came from, and I’m sickened by the realization this could be it. Was I only pretending to try the whole time? God, am I that selfish? “How fucking profound,” I manage, feeling light-headed.

Shane reaches out with one rough hand and slips his fingers through my hair, cradling the back of my head. I want to flinch away, but seconds ago I felt untethered and now his touch is anchoring me. I can’t help leaning back into his hand, letting my neck loosen. “No, I have a suspicion that you don’t fit any mold but your own, Willa.”

“Likewise.”

A corner of his mouth quirks up, but he grows serious almost immediately. “You’re leaving in a matter of weeks. It won’t be long after before I sell this place and return to racing. If its commitment you’re scared of, you’ve nothing to worry about here.”

“Is this your way of asking for a fling?” My gaze drops to his lips as they move to hover over mine. I’m positively frozen, waiting to see what he’ll do. “If so, I told you I’m not interested.”

“Liar.”

“This inn is sorely lacking in hospitality,” I respond lamely. “I’ve been accused of fibbing already this morning.”

“That should tell you something.” He wets his lips slowly, pupils dilating. My heartbeat is so deafening in my ears, I wonder if he can hear it. “It’s inevitable, Willa.
We
are inevitable. When you stop fooling yourself, come and find me.” Imperceptibly, his fingers tighten in my hair, just enough to straighten my spine with awareness. “In the meantime, no more talk of other men. That was an end to it.” When all I do it stare, buffering between indignation and awe at his balls of steel, he drags his lips across mine. My belly begins to ache, not in a bad way. In a hot, melting way that makes my thighs feel ticklish. “Nod if you understand me.”

After a long pause, I nod. I can’t believe it. I fucking nod.

Shane releases me and steps back, his every move appearing reluctant. I’m reluctant for him to let me go, too. That kiss is now something I want badly, at least in this moment where my walls are down. But I was right, he’s not going to take advantage of the situation. Between that and his kind treatment of Kitty, I’m starting to wonder if maybe I was wrong about Shane, too. He looks like he wants to say more, but instead he leaves me standing there and walks to the door.

Before he closes the door behind him, he sticks his head back in. “I wouldn’t drink that cold tea if I were you. She’s been hiding the pot in her closet since last Tuesday.”

The door shuts on my laugh, echoed by his on the other side.

Chapter Eight

It’s dark when I make it back to the inn. I’m having a hard time keeping the smile off my face. Today might have started off on the disconcerting side, but it rallied as soon as I got to Dalkey Castle. By chance, I’d wandered into a live show where actors, dressed in authentic Medieval garb, pretend to be castle workers from the 1500s. I found it so clever and entertaining, I’d stayed for a second show. The illusion was shattered afterward when I saw the actors sharing a joint and talking on iPhones behind the theater, but hey, it was fun while it lasted.

After grabbing a quick lunch, I’d spent some time in the Heritage Center. I couldn’t wait to talk to Ginger and tell her what I found. As soon as I get to my room and kick these boots off my sore feet, I’m going to throw myself on the bed and give her a call. Since Chicago is six hours behind Dublin, she’ll still be working at Sneaky Peet’s, her furniture shop in Wicker Park, but maybe I can catch her in between customers.

Through the glass of the front door, I take a second to watch Shane as he serves a group of young female customers. He smiles absently as he slides them their change, probably not even realizing what a panty-soaker that mysterious half smile can be to the opposite sex, making it twice as effective. As soon as he turns his back, one of them pretends to swoon, the rest of the group pressing manicured hands to their chests as if he’s walked away with their still-beating hearts. I’m not annoyed by the sight, at least I don’t
think
so, but something is sparking in the base of my neck. Something that won’t go away when I swallow. Never having been jealous a day in my life, at least not over a boy, I can’t put a name to the feeling. But I’m positive I shouldn’t be feeling it over Shane.

If its commitment you’re scared of, you’ve nothing to worry about here.

As valiantly as I’ve tried to ignore Shane’s proposition this morning, his words have been echoing in my head all damn day. At first, they’d nicked my feminine pride a little. Weren’t boys supposed to at least bullshit you a little about wanting forever? Evan hadn’t wasted a moment offering me the moon on a silver platter. One time when he’d met me after an afternoon of tailgating and watching football with his buddies, he’d drunkenly started naming our future children. Back then, it had scared the shit out of me. Yet in contrast to Shane’s three-week exit strategy, or
entrance
strategy, depending on how you look at it, bestowing a moniker on nonexistent offspring is a comfort. It had merely been talk, while Shane’s indecent proposal required a decision in the here and now. I thought I’d made the decision. No way, no how, was I letting him anywhere near me. The more I think about it, though, the more it appeals. A lot.

We are obviously attracted to one another. Neither one of us wants or is available for any kind of messy commitment. On the bus ride home, one thought had permeated my head with stark clarity. Is this my first grown-up, no-strings-attached fling, just waiting to happen? I’ve never been in this position before. It’s entirely possible that this confusion and anger Shane provokes in me is…lust? Pure, undiluted, want-to-rip-his-clothes-off lust.

Maybe I’ve been so worried about my feelings getting wrapped up without someone else’s so soon after Evan, I’ve placed too much importance on what Shane makes me feel. I’m starting to wonder if the best course of action isn’t just to say yes to his proposition and get it over with. Scratch the itch. Once it’s done, I can move on, secure in the knowledge that I’m in control of my own destiny and not every man who crosses my path has the power to change me, or put some kind of hold on me.

Yes, I’m actually
considering
sleeping with Shane.

After all, what’s the worst that could happen? I’m only going to think about it. No harm in kicking the idea around, right?

With my tentative resolve wedged firmly between my shoulders, I push open the door to the Claymore Inn. For a Monday night, there is a decent crowd. Most of the bar is full and half the tables are scattered with empty glasses as customers lean toward one another and talk too loudly, laughing even louder. A Stone Roses song is playing, blurring all the conversations into one. The smell of beer, cologne, and fried food is starting to become familiar and it hits me now, reminding me I never ate dinner.

I feel Shane’s gaze warm me on the spot, like that instant where you step underneath the shower spray in the morning. It wakes me up and makes me aware of my body. This time, though, I don’t avoid his stare, I meet it head-on. Elbow propped on the bar as he chews on a cocktail straw, he narrows his eyes a little when he registers my decision not to ignore him. He clearly expected me to breeze though the bar without acknowledging him as I’ve done the previous two nights, but I’m done acting scared.

Slowly, he nods at me. I nod back, and just like that, some type of silent communication has passed between us, although I have no idea what was said. I need a decoder ring with this freaking guy.

I’m halfway through the pub when my phone buzzes in my pocket. My step falters, and I frown. No one should be calling me on my cell phone. Since arriving, I’ve only been calling the States using a prepaid calling card to avoid any expensive fees. Basically I’ve only been using it to check the time. When I dig my phone out of my pocket and see that Derek is calling, my instincts start to tumble in my stomach, like a dryer with tennis shoes inside.

“Derek?”

“Willa.” My worry plummets when I hear the astonished joy in his voice. It’s so uncharacteristic for him, I double-check to make sure it’s really the lieutenant calling. “I’m glad I caught you.”

“What is it? Is…is Ginger okay?”

“She’s wonderful. She’s…
God
, she’s perfect.” For a second, he doesn’t speak and I get the sense he’s actually choked up. “The baby came this morning.”

“What?” My heart shoots up into my throat. “Ginger wasn’t due for another month. I-is the baby okay?”

“She’s beautiful. Healthy.” A short pause. “We named her Dolly.”

Tears begin pouring unchecked down my cheeks. My sister and I have idolized Dolly Parton as far back as I can remember. We claim our passion for her is due to the music, but as I get older, I realize that’s only a fraction of it. Dolly grew up in one-room shack in our home state of Tennessee without a dollar to her name and went on to become a superstar. Although it remains unspoken between me and Ginger, I think we use Dolly as an example of what’s possible for us, no matter the circumstances we were born into.

“Ginger wanted to be the one to tell you the baby’s name, but she’s sleeping now. I don’t think she’ll be up for the call for hours. I thought you’d want to know right away.”

“I did. I do.” Shock, happiness…and an overwhelming sense of disappointment take me over now that the initial relief has passed. Disappointment that I wasn’t there for Ginger. Disappointment that I’m in another country licking my own wounds like a selfish brat when I should be with the only family I’ve ever known. This line of thinking is selfish in
itself
. I know this. But the bitterness won’t stop. I take a deep breath, trying to focus on the fact that my niece was born healthy and Ginger came through it no worse for wear. “That’s amazing, Derek. Congratulations. You’re going to be a great father.”

It’s like he didn’t even hear me. “Willa, you should have seen your sister…” This time he doesn’t try to hide the fact that he’s choked up. “I thought I knew how strong she was. How incredible. I had no idea.”

I swallow a sob. “She finds a way to remind you once in a while.”

“I’ll never forget again.” His deep, shaky inhale crackles through the line. “I have to go now. The nurse needs me to fill out the birth certificate. Jesus, a birth certificate. It might be the only kind of paperwork that doesn’t piss me off. You all right, kid?”

“I’m great. I’m so happy for you, Derek.” I feel someone step behind me and lay a hand on my shoulder. Without turning around, I know its Shane. Absently, I notice Orla has appeared behind the bar to replace him, possibly just returned from her break, and she’s watching me with concern. Correction,
everyone
in the pub is watching me. When I feel tears rolling over my knuckles as they grip the phone, I swipe at my eyes with the sleeve of my hoodie. Hesitantly, Shane pulls me into his side and I go without protest. “Hey, listen. Try not to turn Dolly into a law-abiding citizen before I have a chance to corrupt her.”

A rumbling laugh. “Don’t even think about it. She’s not leaving the house until she turns eighteen. And only then, after completing every self-defense class I can find.”

I release a watery sigh. “Sh-should I come home? I can—”

Shane goes stiff beside me, but I’m in no place to ponder that reaction.

“I knew you’d say that. It’s not necessary.” A chair scrapes back four thousand miles away. “You’ll be home soon enough. I’m off for a week and then Patti is coming over to help out while I’m at work.”

Patti, the ex-police dispatch operator who’d taken a shine to Ginger at a long-ago police gala, then quickly became an inevitability in our lives, sort of an adopted grandmother that asked too many uncomfortable questions. I hear someone call Derek’s name in the background. Not Ginger, probably the nurse.

“I have to go. You sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah. Will you have Ginger call me when she’s up?”

“Of course. Talk to you soon. Stay out of trouble.”

“Trouble finds me, you know that.”

“Bye, Willa.”

“Bye.”

In my hand, the line goes dead, but I continue to hold it to my ear, imagining Derek bustling around the hospital room while Ginger sleeps peacefully in the bed. I want be sitting in one of the hard, plastic chairs in that room so badly, it’s a physical ache yawning in my stomach. I want to hold my niece. I want to look down at her and see the proof that Ginger escaped our past and made a happy life. I want to know it’s possible for me, too. But I can’t. It’s out of my reach.

Finally, Shane takes the phone out of my hand, and it drops limply to my side. With an arm around my waist, he walks me through the noticeably quieter pub toward the back hallway. I think he is going to leave me at the bottom of the stairs leading up toward the rooms, but he pulls me into the dark office instead.

I’m thankful when he closes the door and doesn’t turn on the overhead light. Fluorescent lighting and sniveling girl are an unattractive combination, even if that ambiance would probably help me pull it together quicker. In the pitch-black, however, nothing prevents the sob from shuddering higher in my chest and escaping through my parted mouth. Not even Shane’s presence. I cringe when I hear it. It sounds like weakness. But he’s pulling me against his chest and holding it in is no longer an option.

“All right, love.”

That’s all he says, yet somehow it’s the perfect thing. In this case, however, the perfect thing makes me cry all the harder. I don’t want to be comforted. I don’t deserve it. “I was supposed to be there. First babies almost never come early. I Googled that shit.”

“I need more to work with. Who had a baby?”

“Ginger.” Just her name brings on a fresh wave of tears. “She wasn’t due for another month. And I’m here in this rainy-ass country. When I should be
there
.”

He begins rubbing circles on my back with his big hand. “It does rain a lot.” For some reason, that startles a laugh out of me, but it’s far too tempting to bury my face against his neck and keep crying. I haven’t cried in a long time, not even over Evan, and I can’t seem to stem the flow of emotion. “You couldn’t have predicted it,” Shane says quietly, almost to himself.

I wipe my eyes on Shane’s hard shoulder and pull back shaking my head, even though he can’t see me. “You don’t understand. It’s our job to predict what the other will do. We’re both impulsive, and we can’t communicate worth a damn. Predicting is our how we operate.” My head falls back on my shoulders. “I couldn’t even get this one thing right. The one time she actually needs
me
, and I’m missing in action. God, I’m so fucking sick of not getting it right for people that matter. She was there for me through
everything
. She saved me.”

He’s silent a beat. “Saved you from what? Tell me, Willa.”

I laugh bitterly, hating the sound but unable to stem it. “I can’t.”

“Bullshit. Give me something.” He lays his rough cheek against mine, the gesture undermining his harsh words. Letting him stay there feels risky, yet oddly natural.

“Why do you want to know? Just so you can understand where your initial judgment of me went wrong?”

“I have a need to know. Beyond that, I don’t have an explanation.”

I take a deep breath and tell the first story that comes to mind. “Ginger bought me my camera when I was twelve. A Christmas present. She probably had to save the entire year to afford it. It’s not the best one, but it’s
mine
.” I squeeze my eyes shut, unable to believe what I’m revealing, but Shane’s heat combined with the dark is so inviting. “Ginger had to buy the same camera five times from a pawn shop in Nashville because our mother kept selling it to buy heroin.”

Shane doesn’t say anything, but his circling hand grows firmer on my back, massaging my suddenly tired muscles.

“Ginger never told me. Just kept buying the damn camera and leaving it in our room, under a pile of clothes or in the back of the closet we shared, teasing me about misplacing things. One night, she was working at the bar. Mom came home, high out of her mind, with two men I didn’t recognize. They tore my room apart looking for that camera to pawn it again. But Ginger had taken it with her to work that night just in case my mother came home. So it wasn’t there.”

Shane’s hand goes still on my back. My voice has gone hollow, almost unrecognizable. This could be my default voice for talking about Valerie. I wouldn’t know, because I try to avoid talking about her whenever possible.