Wild Card (North Ridge #1)

His smile only falters when he looks over at Shane and quickly puts it all together.

“I didn’t think you were coming home until late,” he tells Shane. “Saturday night and all.”

I have to wonder what he does on Saturday nights and then I stop myself. He used to spend them with me, but the last thing I need to do is focus on how he’s spending his time now.

Shane just nods. “I know. Change of heart. Gotta get up early to start on the silaging.”

“Good point. And we’ll probably have to move them heifers over to a better range.” Hank smiles at me through his bushy mustache. “I bet this brings back all the boring memories, doesn’t it, Rachel? My, you’re looking mighty pretty.”

“Thanks, Hank,” I tell him, clearing my throat and flashing him a smile.

“City life agrees with you,” he says, and I swear I see a hint of sadness in his eyes.

“So,” my mother says quickly, “Shane is staying for dinner now. Hope you made enough. If I remember correctly, the boy had quite the appetite.”

We all look at Shane. If he got back in that truck I wouldn’t be upset.

He rubs the back of his neck. “I should probably go back to your car, put some gas in it.”

I’m momentarily relieved that he wants to leave as much as I want him to.

“Oh, hell no,” my mother says. “You let us worry about that, okay? You’re staying for dinner. Right, Hank?”

“Of course,” Hank says, his eyes meeting mine for a moment. I’m sorry, they say, because he knows the only reason I even came here is because Shane was supposed to be elsewhere. I give him a slight smile in response. I can be the adult here. Sure, Shane was the catalyst that made me leave this place and build a better life elsewhere, but that was a good thing, right? I’m finally happy. Even though Shane broke me, he made me stronger. Better.

And because I’m stronger, I can survive this dinner.

I can survive the next few weeks as I figure out how to help my mother.

“Let’s get inside then before the rain picks back up,” Hank says, briefly placing his hand on my mother’s shoulder and ushering her into the house. “We haven’t had rain for twenty days and we need it, but you never know what’s going to happen out here.”

You can say that again.

I quickly hurry after them, not wanting to be stuck close to Shane, not even for a moment. But just as I step on the porch, about to go through the door, he clears his throat from behind me.

“Rachel,” he says, his voice both soft and hoarse, knifing through me.

Damn it. I want to keep walking and ignore it but I know I’m better than that.

I take in a deep breath and turn around.

He takes off his cap and runs a hand through his hair, still light brown and thick. I know exactly what that hair feels like between my fingers, the nights I spent in his arms stroking it until he fell asleep. He said it always relaxed him, like a massage. I loved watching him sleep, how at peace he finally looked. The same went for those moments after we made love.

My heart clinches at the memories and I do what I can to move past it.

“How are you?” he asks.

I swallow. “Good. You?”

“Good.” He pauses, sighs, and looks at me earnestly. “Hey, I know this is weird.”

Weird? That’s putting it mildly. But I manage to press my lips together, keeping the words inside.

“You were the last person I expected to see today,” he goes on, looking behind him at the storm as it fades into the distance. “I’d heard earlier that you were in town. Honestly, I’m surprised.”

“Well, that makes two of us,” I admit.

I’m surprised at how well I’m handling this. Even though “handling this” really just means I’m keeping my cool and haven’t thrown anything at him yet. I eye a pair of shears sitting on the rocking chair on the porch. There’s still time.

“I’m really sorry about your mother,” he says. “And I’m even more sorry I haven’t been there for her.”

I scrunch up my nose. “Why would you have to be there for her? She’s my mother, not yours.”

As I say that, I wonder if he’s taking it personally. That was always one of Shane’s deepest, darkest demons, the fact that his mother died when he was so young. He’s had mother figures, his nanny Jeanine mostly, sometimes my own mother, but even so I wonder if it’s something he’s been able to come to terms with. It certainly tormented him back in the day.

“I know she’s not my mother,” he says, intensity flaring in his eyes. “I just had no idea she was sick. I wish I’d known.”

“Well, I’m surprised you didn’t. It was your father that told me in the first place.”

“My dad?”

I nod. “Yup. He called me two weeks ago and said my mother had been diagnosed with lung cancer. Early stages and something she can totally fight, but he told me she needs me and I should probably come down for a bit and see how things go.”

Shane looks beyond confused and I can tell it’s news to him. He’s been kept in the dark almost as much as I have. “He never told me.”

“Maybe he didn’t think it was your business. Honestly, I didn’t even know our parents were close.” I want to add that especially since he broke my heart and practically sent me away from this town.

“I didn’t either,” he says. “Fuck. Well, then, I’m sorry you’re here under these circumstances.”

“I’m sorry I’m here at all,” I say, and instantly regret it. So much for playing it cool.

“Look,” he says. “I know I deserve that…”

And here it comes.

Foot, meet mouth.

“This isn’t all about you, Shane. It’s been six years. There was a good reason why I left, and you know what it is, but it’s not all you. You just gave me the push. And I’m grateful for it, I really am. Because now I finally have a career I love—I work in advertising, and it’s challenging and the money is good and I have friends. I have a boyfriend.” I watch to see if that affects him but his expression doesn’t change. “I have a life. And I love it. This is the last place I want to be and the last thing my mother needs is to have fucking cancer.”

He watches me for a few moments. My heart is racing in my chest at all the word vomit I just spat out. “I’m really happy for you, you know,” he says softly. “You deserve all those wonderful things you have now. You were smart to leave. You’re too good, too smart for this place.”

I can’t tell if he means that or not, but he probably does. Shane is nothing if not sincere.

But then he turns and heads toward his truck.

“Where are you going?” I ask.

“Going to get out of your hair,” he says, pausing to look at me over the door as he opens it. “Your mom’s car needs gas. I’ll fill her up now, so all my dad needs to do later is drop you off and you’re good to go. Tell them to save some food for me.”