Unfixable

Chapter Eighteen

I wake up with mist rolling over me, early morning sunlight peeking through to pierce my eyelids. Cracking them open, I see Shane is sprawled beside me on the grass. I’m tucked under his arm, head resting on his shoulder. Part of me can’t believe I fell asleep letting him hold me, but the rest of me never wants to move again. His solid form is warm and reassuring, but his fingers are tangled in my shirt, as if he’d fallen asleep thinking I might leave in the middle of the night and wanted to prevent it.
We hadn’t agreed out loud to spend the night on Killiney Hill. I’d wanted to stay because I knew the second we got back into the car, the spell would be shattered. We’d have to stop thinking in terms of now, and remember tomorrow. Next week. Forever. I’m not sure why Shane wanted to stay, but I’m glad he did. Even if he only stayed for a chance at morning sex. Remembering last night, how often we’d turned to each other, my body begins to throb in sore and sensitive areas. Oh, if he wants morning sex, he’s going to get it.
I’ve gone and done it now. One week until I have to leave for Chicago and I’ve discovered multiple orgasms. Surely there’s no turning back after that? If I close my eyes and focus on the insane physical response Shane seems capable of ringing from me, leaving seems easy enough. A week of stolen moments with a gorgeous guy, no commitment required. If I came here to get over a breakup, consider me a little closer every time Shane rolls me underneath him, those intense blue eyes watching my expression to see what I like. Good God.
Then I open my eyes and look at him. I see the tension furrowing between his brow, even in sleep. I feel the hand grabbing onto me like a lifeline. I hear his heartbeat under my ear and know every beat has a wealth of pain behind it. And I know leaving is going to be one of the hardest things I’ve ever done.
Carefully, I slip out from beneath Shane’s arm, peeling his fingers off my shirt one by one. I actually have to wave away the mist to find my messenger bag. My camera didn’t get a lot of use last night, but capturing this moment, this morning, is suddenly important to me. Even if I don’t want to admit why. There’s also a certainty in me that I’ll avoid looking at these pictures for the rest of my life, if I even get them developed.
When I stand and I can actually see above the layer of mist, my breath hitches. Sunlight is just beginning to spread over the bay. If I listen really hard, I can hear the boats creaking as they sway on the water. People are moving on the docks in the distance, fishermen already awake and getting ready to start work. The sky looks massive, heavy, white clouds reflecting faintly on the surface of the gray water below.
I know landscapes aren’t my strong suit, but I raise my camera and start shooting. All I can do it point and click, hoping even an ounce of the magnificence translates onto film. Most likely, it will be up to my memory to do it justice. After a few minutes, I lower the camera to my side and look back at Shane. He’s still asleep, his hand reaching out beside him on the grass. With the mist moving over him, he looks like a dream. A fantasy I made up inside my head. Soon, that’s all he’ll be.
I war with myself for a second, then raise the camera and take the picture.
Shane’s eyes open slowly and he starts a little, before focusing on me. I watch in fascination as he sits up and scrubs a hand over his messy hair. His face is covered in scruff and his shirt is on backward from being pulled on in the darkness when we were both exhausted. I imagine this is how he wakes up in bed each morning, among his sheets. I want to take that picture, too. Want to see him in every stage of his day.
I wonder what I look like to him. As if I spoke the thought out loud, Shane gains his feet and comes toward me slowly. He slides his calloused hands up into my hair, cupping the back of my head. While leaning down to kiss me sweetly, he takes the camera from my hand. Then with an indescribable look on his face, he steps back and takes my picture. Automatically, my hands come up to cup my elbows, and I avert my gaze. I’ve never been comfortable being on the other side of the lens.
Shane lowers the camera, his eyes narrowing on me. “Oh no, you don’t get to act shy after last night. I won’t allow it.”
His sleep-roughened voice sends goose bumps trailing up my arms. It’s not that I’m shy. Technically, it’s more of a reluctance to see what other people see when they look at me. Not to mention, I suspect my guard is completely down right now. I’m not sure I want to have that captured in my own camera. “Yeah? How do you plan to stop me?”
He rolls my words around in his mouth. “Why don’t I remind you how you woke me up in the middle of the night?” His voice goes even smokier, gaze dropping to my lips. “How you wouldn’t stop, no matter how hard I begged. How I really didn’t want you to stop.”
If I were alone, I would close my eyes. I would cross my legs and squeeze. The way he’s looking at me, the memories his words are bringing back, are doing the impossible. They’re making me feel sexy and beautiful. Like I have nothing to hide. I’m aware of every part of my body. My hair doesn’t feel like a jumbled disaster, it feels like Shane’s fingers have just been in it and there is nothing hotter than that. I know my shyness is melting away when his lips edge up into a satisfied smile. Lips swollen from kissing me like he’d lose his mind if he stopped.
Just like last night, I feel something loosen inside me, something that’s been tied up in knots forever without me being consciously aware of it. I can’t do anything but embrace it. God, it’s a fantastic feeling. Without a second’s hesitation, I curl my fingers under the hem of my shirt and draw it over my head, leaving me topless. Very slowly, I walk toward Shane. At first, he can only watch me approach, his big chest shuddering in and out, heart in his eyes. Then he raises the camera and starts taking snaps of me. It’s the first time I can remember craving my picture being taken, because I know whatever he’s capturing is honest. Real. It’s me.
When I reach him, I take the camera and set it down carefully on the earth, without taking my eyes off him. His hands are curling at his sides, as if he wants to reach out and grab me, but he senses I own the moment. “Willa, you’re so bloody beautiful, I can’t stand it.”
Using his shoulders for balance, I hike my legs up around his waist. I’m dying to kiss him, but words are burning in my throat, dying to get out. “You made me feel that way.”
He cradles my face in his hand. “Let me do it again today?”
Kissing him is my answer.
…
We don’t talk on the way home, but it’s a companionable silence. Without actually saying the words, I think we’ve decided to live in the now. We’ve stopped trying to resist the pull, we’re not thinking beyond today. I’m grateful for it, this decision to be reckless. Because that’s exactly what it is. It’s floating down a sparkling river, enjoying the view, as you head toward a Niagara-sized plunge. I’m done battling with myself, though. I’ve done it for too long, and now all I want is to admit how good Shane makes me feel. He’s woken something up inside of me and I’m not ready to put it to bed just yet.
He parks the car in the garage and we walk back toward the Claymore, holding hands. Just as I’m thinking the connection isn’t enough, he drags me into his side and kisses the top of my head. We stare at each other for a moment. I sense he’s about to say something, but the door of the Claymore flies open and Kitty steps out onto the sidewalk. I start to pull away, as if we’ve been caught committing an illegal act, but Shane’s hold on my hand only tightens.
She claps a shaky hand over her mouth. “Thank goodness. I thought you’d been kidnapped right along with Faith.”
Shane stiffens against me. “Faith? What do you mean?”
Kitty gestures wildly. “She’s gone. I knocked on her door to ask if she’d help me with the tea service, but she didn’t answer. So I went in. Very tidy, her room. She takes after me in that way.”
With a curse, Shane plows a hand through his hair. I can see his face transform with worry and guilt, obviously remembering their fight from the night before. It’s so palpable, I can’t bear it. I rack my brain, trying to think of where Faith would have gone. The answer is so clear, I can actually feel relief swimming in my chest. “I know where she is.”
Shane looks at me sharply.
“I mean, I think I know where she would have gone.”
“Where?”
“You’re not going to like it.”
He searches my face. “Ah God, not the street performer.” I bite my lip and Shane looks up at the sky, as if praying for patience. “I don’t suppose you know where he lives?”
The way he asks me, I know he’s mostly hoping I say no. “Brian and Patrick both live with their mother, but I have no idea where.” I rummage through my bag for my phone, feeling Shane’s sharp eyes on me. “I have Patrick’s number, though.”
Shane laughs without humor. “Patrick, is it? Well, I’ve been dying to kick his ass. I guess I’ll have to settle for his brother.”
“You can’t.” The hand holding my phone drops to my thigh. “You can’t go in there like you did at O’Kelly’s and drag Faith out. She’ll never forgive you.”
His jaw hardens, and I feel sick over our peaceful morning slipping away. I already miss the warm ease of it. “She can add it to the growing list of things she hates me for, because I’m going to get her. She’s my little sister.”
“She’s one year younger than me.”
He shifts on his feet. “Jesus, I could have done without hearing that.”
Shaking my head, I dial the phone. Kitty is still standing in the doorway of the inn, only now she’s feeding the toast from her apron to a group of gathering pigeons. Patrick answers on the fourth ring, his voice groggy. “They say it’s an ungodly hour, but that can’t be right since an angel is calling me. What’s the weather like in heaven today, sweetheart?”
One look at Shane’s face tells me he heard the gist of Patrick’s words. Hoping to spare Patrick’s life, I turn my back and walk a few yards away. “Oh, I’d bring an umbrella. There’s a storm brewing.”
“Thanks for the warning.” It sounds like he’s propping himself up in bed. “Does this have anything to do with the girlish giggling coming from my brother’s bedroom? Or is Brian just playing dress-up with Ma’s clothes again?”
Thank God I’d walked out of earshot. “I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that. Mind texting me your address?”
“Ma!” he shouts, forcing me to yank the phone away from my ear. “Put the kettle on. Beyoncé is coming over for a visit.”
A smile plays around my mouth. “Don’t let her go to any trouble. I doubt we’ll be staying for a social visit.”
“We?”
“Mmm-hmm.”
“Shit.” He sighs. “Ah, Brian is due a good fight, anyway. It’s been days.”
Hiding my nerves over Patrick’s final comment, I hang up the phone. I turn to Shane just as I receive the incoming text message with the address. His eyes are unreadable, but his posture makes it pretty obvious he didn’t like me walking away to talk on the phone to another guy. Since I wouldn’t like it either, though, I don’t give him any shit for his needless jealousy.
“The address, Willa.”
I push my phone into the back pocket of my jeans, ignoring the shiver that goes up my arm when he growls at me. “Give me a few minutes, and I’ll come with you.”
“We don’t need a referee.”
“You totally need a referee.” I start toward the inn, noticing for the first time that Kitty has gone back inside. “But I’m not going for you, I’m going for Faith. When you drag her out of her boyfriend’s house for doing something every other eighteen-year-old is doing, she’s sure as shit not going to get into your car. She’s done nothing wrong and she shouldn’t have to take the bus by herself.”
“Nothing wrong?” He’s right behind me as we enter the Claymore, of course, our feet pounding on the floorboards of the pub. “Leaving without telling us where she’s going? Worrying my mother sick?”
I don’t say anything, just turn and look at him. He finally hears himself and his features cloud over. It’s not what I meant to do. I didn’t set out to make him realize he’s getting angry with Faith for the same thing he did at her age. Leaving without a word, worrying his mother. But there it is. It’s unavoidable. Wishing I could take back the last five minutes, I walk toward him with no idea what my intentions are when I reach him.
He turns before I get there, walking stiffly toward the office. “Meet me outside in ten minutes.”
Staring after him, regret swimming in my gut, I’m starting to think I push people away whether it’s intentional or not.