Here, he could step into his shower, knowing that when he did, the hot water would inevitably hit the bar of Dove soap she’d forgotten in her haste, filling the bathroom with that soft, clean scent that clung to her. It would mix with the smell of his Irish Spring, reminding him of how the inside of his truck smelled after they had gone somewhere together. His scent, clean and spicy; hers, soft and fresh.
At night he could sleep in his king-sized bed, burying his head in the same pillow Rebecca had used, the one that still held traces of her scent. If he closed his eyes and concentrated, he could almost imagine her warmth seeping into him. Feel her body snuggling up to his. Hear her soft, contented sighs when he finally surrendered, closing his arms around her and holding her close.
He could do all these things without being under someone’s watchful eye. He could wallow in his misery, grieve in private for what he had lost.
No, not lost. Thrown away.
He was better off alone, at least until he could accept what he’d done without feeling like his heart had been ripped out of his chest. Until he was able to hear his family speak Rebecca’s name in passing without feeling great stabs of pain in his gut. Until he knew he would be capable of crossing paths with Rebecca – which was inevitable at some point, because Pine Ridge just wasn’t that big – without throwing her over his shoulder and running away with her.
The emails and voicemails had begun in earnest the day after he’d taken Rebecca back. He’d expected no less. Surely there would be questions and accusations, and despite how things had ended between them, he felt fairly certain Rebecca would give nothing away. Even now, she would try to protect him from those who would think poorly of him because of his actions.
He ignored them all, deleting them without bothering to open or listen to them. Nearly two weeks passed, and Kane was no closer to responding than he had been. He needed this time alone. No one seemed to understand that. There was no one he wished to speak to. No one except Rebecca. And the one thing he knew above all else was that Rebecca would never try to contact him. He’d seen to that, shutting her out so thoroughly and completely that she would never consider it.
Kane really shouldn’t have been surprised when Jake appeared on his doorstep. No matter how often he tried to prove to them that he was an island, someone always ended rowing up to his beach anyway.
*
“What do you want?” Kane snapped when he opened the door a few inches. It was a warmer greeting than Jake had been expecting. At least Kane hadn’t tried to shoot him, so he figured things were off to a good start.
He thrust the bottle of Irish whiskey into Kane’s hand, and used the opportunity to push his way in, ignoring Kane’s warning growl as he took off his coat and sank down onto the sofa.
The two of them were more alike than any of the others, sharing similar views on the world and their places in it, as well as overly dominant, highly aggressive personalities. Over the years it had led to some pretty nasty conflicts. Jake, however, had since been tempered by the love of his wife and daughter. He wouldn’t have Taryn now if Kane hadn’t been there for him. He’d be damned if he wouldn’t do the same for Kane.
“Fuck.” Kane exhaled when he saw Jake plant himself comfortably beside the fire.
Jake grinned. “Good to see you, too, bro.”
Kane dropped into the seat opposite Jake, and extended his long legs, propping them on the coffee table with a resounding thud. Glaring at his brother, he twisted the sealed cap and lifted the bottle to his lips. His Adam’s apple bobbed with each of the three deep swallows.
Jake met his gaze with calm resolve. As expected, Kane looked like a man who’d spent the last couple of weeks in the wilderness, shunning all human contact. His whiskers were full and thick; his hair unkempt and shaggy. His clothes – faded flannel and worn jeans – were rumpled but relatively clean. The faint scent of Irish Spring hung in the air; at least he appeared to be showering every day. Jake took that as a good sign.
Kane rested the bottle on his knee, his eyes never wavering from Jake’s. It was a challenge, one that Jake had prepared for and met with equal resolve. Kane didn’t offer the bottle to him, but that was okay; he had prepared for that, too. Jake pulled an identical bottle from his coat, offered it in the air as a mock toast, then took a drink himself. He wasn’t planning on heading back to town tonight anyway.
Kane sighed. It was as close to surrender as Jake would get.
When dealing with Kane there was a certain protocol to be observed, one of the most important things being that you didn’t speak until Kane was ready to hear what you had to say. Otherwise, it was like trying to talk to a very grumpy – and lethal - bear. Jake knew this; he understood the rituals required better than anyone. It was why he had volunteered to make the trip north.
That, and the fact that he was probably the most likely to survive if things did not go well.