“We didn’t really lose anything, did we? Even though it seems like we did, we didn’t lose a thing.”
I knew what he meant, and so I offered him a small smile. “We gained a psychopath for a biological mother. Thinking we can’t overlook that.”
Duane chuckled and then closed his eyes, his face falling back into his hands much like he’d done in the chapel. “You’re right.”
“About what?”
“We need to find out what she wants,” he lifted his head, his eyes turning hard, “Before I go, you and I need to confront her.”
“You don’t need to—”
“I do. You’re going to be in Green Valley without me. I won’t be here, watching out for you, stopping folks from taking advantage. She needs to see she can’t fuck with you, even if I’m not around.”
I gave my brother a wry grin. “You watched out for me?”
“Hell yes, I did. And I always will.”
I shook my head at his stubbornness. Duane’s fervent assertion made me grin despite the situation, but I wouldn’t contradict him. In his own way, I guess he did look out for me.
“So what do we do?” I gathered a deep breath. “Should I call Drill? Ask for a meeting?”
“Yeah. Then we’ll tell her where she can shove her manipulations.”
“I’m guessing it’s someplace without sunlight?”
Duane smirked, but then said, “This is so fucked up.”
“It’s not so bad.” I shrugged.
I wanted to say, At least Razor isn’t our daddy. But I didn’t think Duane would appreciate the words or the sentiment.
“And now we have Claire.” He lifted his head and stared out the windshield.
“That’s right.” I waited until he looked at me to add, “And now she has us.”
* * *
Shelly, Quinn, Janie, and Desmond arrived at the reception about half an hour after it started. I immediately intercepted them. As soon as I spotted her hovering by the entrance, I realized I’d been pining for Shelly’s company since leaving her Friday afternoon.
I wondered if I’d carry an ache for her everywhere I went for the rest of our lives. It wouldn’t be so bad, I reckoned, as long as she was always there to ease it.
If any of my brothers, or my sister, were surprised to see us together, they made no note of it.
Except Roscoe.
He’d pulled me to the side and told me I was right; Shelly Sullivan was probably the most beautiful woman in the world . . . over the age of thirty.
I’d rolled my eyes and said a silent prayer for the poor soul who ended up with his stupid ass. She was going to need it.
Over dinner, I filled Shelly in on what had happened with Duane. She in turn brought me up to speed on how the visit with her brother was going. After I left for the rehearsal, she’d gone to her therapy appointment with Dr. West. When she got home, Quinn was passed out on the couch with Desmond, leaving Janie and Shelly to talk.
“She said I’m ‘decidedly different’ than I was before.”
“Oh? How were you before?”
“She said I was a jerk.”
I breathed a startled laugh. “She said that?”
“Yes. She’s very honest. She’s always been very honest. Her honesty has been an inspiration for me.”
“Do you think you were a jerk?”
“Yes. But not because I wanted to be a jerk. I tried to explain to her what it’s like, to be a marionette at the whims of irrational fear, being brainwashed by your own brain.”
“What’d she say?”
“She said she understood that. She told me she guessed that I have OCD, she’s glad I’m in therapy, and getting better. But that I was still a jerk,” Shelly gave me a whisper of a smile, “and now I’m not.”
After dinner, Shelly kept her word and danced with me. We danced to “Uptown Funk,” “Don’t Stop Believing,” and “Shut Up and Dance” without talking. But when the band played “My Girl,” I leaned close to her ear and said, “I’m going to ask you a question, just ’cause I’m curious.”
“Okay. Ask me anything.”
“Why don’t you tell your brother the truth? Why not tell him about your diagnosis? Why not explain the logistics of your fear? How you can’t touch others, but that there’s a Duct Tape solution.”
“Duct Tape solution?”
“You know, a way to get around fixing something until you have time to fix it, a workaround. If he knew you needed him to initiate touch first, then I’m sure he’d be giving you hugs all the time.”
“I don’t want him to do that.” She shook her head, visibly frustrated. “It’s my problem. I’ve already asked too much of my family. You heard my brother, they’ve twisted themselves into enough knots. I can’t have them changing their healthy behavior to accommodate my unhealthy behavior.”
“Playing devil’s advocate here, but you do it with me, don’t you? I’m always the one touching you first, aren’t I?”
She considered me for a moment. “Are you upset by that?”
“Not at all, especially since I know your situation. I know your diagnosis, I know I’m a priority to you, and I know you’re working on your refrigerator.”
Shelly gave me an almost smile, her gaze searching mine. “I guess, to answer your question, things are different with us. I’ve spent a lifetime lying to my family. Trying to avoid disappointing them, trying to explain away my actions with lies, or at least conceal them. But I’ve never lied to you. I’ve tried really hard to be honest from the beginning.”
“Sometimes brutally honest.”
“Yes. Lying is wrong. I’ve stopped lying. I can’t do it at all anymore, because it’s a slippery slope for me. White lies become big lies and I don’t want to live like that. But I was also honest with you—sometimes oversharing—because I liked you so much. You needed to know the truth so you could decide.”
“Decide if I wanted to be with you?”
“More specifically, decide if I am capable of giving you what you need.” Shelly’s smile was tinged with sadness. “I’ll be fighting against my OCD for the rest of my life. I don’t know if I’ll have children, but—”
“You want kids?”
“Yes. Absolutely. But should I?”
I considered the question while she watched me, a new intensity behind her eyes. “This seems like a question for us to discuss with Dr. West.”
Her sad smile returned. “Is that okay with you? That, if you stay with me, these questions about our future are always going to involve my therapist?”
“Honestly, yes.” I nodded heartily. “I like Dr. West. It’s like having a—a—a relationship coach. Or a good mechanic on staff, keeping our engines cool and well oiled.”
Shelly’s smile became less sad. “I’m really glad you feel that way, because I will probably be in therapy forever.”
“I’m proud of you for making it a priority.” I kissed her lips, just barely, just a tease.
As I leaned away, she shook her head at me. “Let’s talk about something else. Yesterday was . . . intense. Let’s talk about something fun.”
I grinned. “Oh. I know, let’s talk about how you’re in love with me.”
She stumbled, stepping on my foot, clearly not expecting my new choice of subject.
“So you were planning on saving the news? Doing something special?”
Shelly breathed out through her nose and glanced beyond my shoulder. “Yes.”