Collide (23 page)

Shane forced the last bit of steak down his
throat and glanced around the table. His father had talked very
little, answering his wife politely when she addressed him, but for
the most part James Gallagher made a show of digging around his
plate, and swirling his red wine around his glass like he was some
big shot wine taster.

Celia and Bobbi made a good effort, he’d give
them that, and kept the conversation rolling, while Eden didn’t say
a word other than to tell them that she was a vegetarian and would
only be eating the veggies.

He glanced at his watch. It was nearly 7:30.
How much longer did he have to stay before it wasn’t deemed
impolite to leave? He’d done his thing. He’d come because Celia
asked and because he thought that maybe…fuck he didn’t know what
he’d been thinking. This felt wrong. All of it felt wrong.

Eden clearly didn’t give a shit about anyone
other than herself, but then again, weren’t all teenager’s like
that? And sure he felt bad for Celia—he wasn’t that kid anymore,
the one who had resented the hell out of her for taking his
mother’s place. But it’s not like they were going to be buddies
either. He felt bad that the woman was sick but maybe she needed to
concentrate on her health instead of some fantasy family that was
never going to happen.

Not once had his father uttered a negative,
threatening comment. But he felt his father’s eyes on him when
James thought no one would notice. He knew something was coming.
His father’s threat the other day wasn’t for fun. The guy always
followed through and now that Shane was in the process of accepting
what his grandfather had left him, he was pretty sure something was
headed his way sooner than later.

“Shane, still paints you know.”

Bobbi’s words drew a line down the middle of
the table and Shane shot her a look that would freeze most anyone’s
blood to ice. Why the hell would she bring that up now? She knew
his passion for art and his father’s passion for business was one
of the great divides they’d never been able to conquer.

James had loved the fact that his late wife
painted, but the same desire in his son was looked upon as being
lazy.

James Gallagher, sat back in his chair and
took a long drink of his wine. “Yes, I noticed that.”

“He also makes amazing custom furniture.”

Shane’s glare intensified. His personal shit
was off limits here. What game was she playing at?

“I noticed you don’t have any furniture in
your kitchen yet, Celia.”

They all glanced into the empty space.

“No, I haven’t been able to find the right
table. They’re either too small or too wide or…” she shrugged. “I’m
not sure if we’ll find anything we like.”

“You should get Shane to design something for
you.” Bobbi smiled widely. “He just built Logan Forest a gorgeous
harvest table.”

Celia nodded slowly, “I might do that.”

Bobbi, who was sitting to his right, took a
sip of wine and leaned close to him, though her eyes were on Celia
and he thought she whispered something.

It took a moment for his brain to catch up to
his ears. Wait. Did she just say
commando
?

“You better put an order in soon because I
know he’s already got several to work on, including something for
Logan’s parents and Doctor Newley.”

“I didn’t know you started your own business,
Shane.” Celia said, smiling toward her husband. “Isn’t that
wonderful, James?”

His father’s eyes were on him, their depths
unreadable. Christ, here we go.

“
Commando
.”

What? He darted a look at Bobbi and shifted
in his seat. Were his ears playing tricks on him?

“Shane works for Logan Forest,” James
answered his wife, his eyes still on Shane before he turned to
Celia. “He builds motorcycles these days.”

“Oh,” Celia said, her fingers grasped around
the stem of her wine glass like it was a lifeline. She had
abstained from the alcohol and instead was sipping on water. “But
if you love making furniture Shane, why don’t you open your own
business?” She glanced from Shane to her husband. “You have your
inheritance. There shouldn’t be any issues.”

Shane’s eyes were on his father’s. “Well,
there is actually,” he said with a smile. “The whole parole thing
does have its limitations.”

“Oh,” Celia said, gulping some water. “I’m
sorry. I didn’t think.”

Shane shrugged. “Don’t worry about it. It is
what it is. I make furniture in my spare time. I like using my
hands. Keeping busy.”

“And he paints,” Bobbi said cheekily, before
she leaned close to him and coughed.

And then whispered under her breath so only
he could hear, ‘
Commando
’

James sat back in his chair and nodded. “And
he paints.”

“You paint?”

The words flew at him from across the table.
From the petulant mouth of a teen who glared at him. The teen who
up until now had acted as if he was the most uninteresting thing on
the planet.

“You paint like houses?”

Shane shook his head. “No. I paint
people…portraits.”

Bobbi rested her elbows on the table. “He
just finished one…what was it called?”

She glanced his way and bit her lip. He knew
that look all too well and his body was already tightening in
response. “What
did
you call it?”

Shane frowned. The last painting he’d
completed was of his old buddy from prison, Wilson. It didn’t have
a name and it certainly--

“Commando? Was that it?”

He rested his hand on her thigh, smiling
across the table at Eden and Celia. “I don’t know that I ever gave
it a name.”

His hand slipped between her legs and
thankfully the centerpiece hid the fact that it crept higher and
higher as Celia began a long conversation about some art gallery
she’d been to the year before on a trip to New York City. By the
time she was done chatting about art, Shane had no idea whose
exhibit she’d been to and he really didn’t care. His hand was so
far up Bobbi’s thighs, there between her legs that
Bobbi’s
fingers now gripped the table tightly and he could feel how wet she
was through the material of her tights.

Wet and hot.

When James pushed back his chair signalling
dinner was done, Shane leaned forward, blocking his father’s view
with his shoulder. He inhaled her scent as he gave her one last,
generous rub with his fingers and as uncomfortable as he was, with
his dick so tight and hard he was barely able to sit still, it was
worth it. Totally fucking worth it to watch her gasp and bite her
bottom lip. Christ, he hadn’t done anything like this since…

His finger caressed her once more and a
wicked smile tugged on his mouth. He hadn’t done anything like
since that disastrous Christmas dinner he’d invited her to and
they’d had sex in the laundry room while his family served
dessert.

With one final touch, he withdrew his hand
and whispered softy, “Commando.”

She glanced up at him, her wine glass empty,
her face flushed with need for him.
For him
.

“That’s a good word.” He winked. “I think
it’s my new favorite.”

A few weeks later, on a Friday night, Bobbi
was alone at Shane’s place. She sat in front of the fire watching
flames lick the top of the hearth, Pia curled into her lap.
Absently, she stroked the dog’s fur, smiling slightly as the animal
bumped her head against her palm and moaned, a weird little grunt
of pleasure that sounded more human than some humans Bobbi
knew.

She laid her head back onto the sofa, closed
her eyes and enjoyed the quiet. The stereo was on, the volume low,
and the distinct sounds of
The Fray
brought a smile to her
face. Like the
Stones
, they were a favorite. One of theirs.
Shane and Bobbi’s.

And just like warmed up meatloaf, sledding
across the lake under a winter moon, or waking up together on a
Saturday morning…it belonged to them.

Every time she heard
The Fray
, it made
her think of that one summer, the summer when she’d fallen totally
and helplessly in love with Shane. Her chest tightened as she let
the emotion of the lyrics wash over her.
How to Save a
Life
.

She thought she’d lost him. Hell, she thought
they’d lost each other and now…now she was scared of the
possibilities. Because Bobbi knew she wasn’t strong enough to lose
Shane again, just like she knew she wasn’t strong enough to come
clean with him yet. To wipe the slate and offer up a nice, shiny
new black one.

Shane probably didn’t realize it yet but he’d
already done that with his family. He had turned the page and was
heading into a new chapter.

She thought back to the dinner they’d shared
with his father. It had been interesting—not overly warm, not
nearly as boisterous as a Barker family gathering, but still…there
was something between all them—the Gallagher’s—and even if they
couldn’t see it, she was pretty damn sure they felt it.

It was in the stolen glances from father to
son when they thought no one would notice. The way Eden twirled her
hair and said nothing and everything with her silence. The way
Celia fussed over James, even though she was the one who was
sick.

And the way he let her.

It was in the quick, lovely kiss Eden had
planted on her mother’s forehead, the touch of fingers along a
cheekbone, before she disappeared back downstairs to the basement.
And the way the girl had paused at the top of the stairs, her eyes
on her brother. There had been no goodbye. No talk of seeing each
other again. But there had been that look.

And that was encouraging.

“Ah, Pia. Are families always so
complicated?” The dog moaned once more and Bobbi grinned,
scratching her behind her ears. Shane hadn’t spoken of his family
at all on the way home, other than to comment on the fact that his
father had mellowed a bit and that Eden had certainly grown up. He
thought her attitude needed to be adjusted, but he said the words
with a smile, and she thought that maybe he saw something of
himself in his little sister.

Moving slightly, Bobbi melted into the sofa
even more, dragging Pia along with her. She’d spent every night
here since their hot tub Sunday. Every. Single. Night.

It was as if the past three or four years had
never happened. As if they’d skipped all the bad shit and landed
right smack in the middle of something amazing and real.

She and Shane had made love more times than
she could count. They’d watched movies together. They’d eaten in
bed. They had showered together and talked until they were ready
for the silence to wrap them whole. He told her about prison. About
Wilson the elderly man he’d befriended and the one who’d taught him
woodwork.

He told her that as much as he’d wanted to
forget about Bobbi, she had always been inside his head.

Her heart swelled painfully. He hadn’t said
those other words—those three little words that change
everything—but she knew his feelings were there. They had to be.
Because she was drowning in hers and she didn’t want to think about
drowning alone.

Bobbi glanced at the rug in front of the fire
place. She and Shane had fallen asleep there the night
before—wrapped in each other’s arms after Shane had done, naughty,
naughty things—and this morning she’d woken with him deep inside
her.

He had held her from behind, tenderly
stroking her back, and neck, his lips trailing kisses where his
fingers had been as he slowly thrust in and out. Slow. Then fast.
Teasing and dragging things out until she thought she was going to
break apart. And when they came together she had felt tears in her
eyes. Tears! Who the hell cries when they’re having sex? Better
yet, who the hell cries when they’re having the best sex of their
life?

“Oh, God,” she groaned.

Just thinking about their morning was nearly
more than she could take. But it had been so intense and Shane had
touched her in a place that only he could reach. He had touched not
just her heart, but her soul. She had never felt more close to
anyone, ever. Not even before when she and Shane had been
together.

She shivered and drew a blanket across her
lap. She was scared because she knew they were progressing to the
point of no return and while Shane’s spirit had certainly
lightened—as if the path he was on was straight and true—she had
become quiet and tense because she knew the truth would either be
the glue that would hold them together, or it would surely break
them apart. It would break them apart forever.

“Forever,” she whispered, her fingers buried
in Pia’s fur. The word on its own sounded nice, but there was also
darkness to it. The other side of forever wasn’t exactly
paradise.

She would never make it through a forever
without Shane in it.

To not know his touch. Or hear his voice. To
not see the dimple in the corner of his right cheek when he smiled
at her, or the way he looked into her eyes just before he came as
if he wanted her to see into the depths of his soul.

She’d never been this content before, yet her
fingers stalled and Pia whimpered. She’d never felt this scared
before.

“Shit,” she murmured, eyes open once again.
“I’ve got to tell him everything tonight, don’t I?”
Everything
.

Pia looked up with her dark eyes, wagging
tail, and lunged forward, her pink tongue happily licking at
Bobbi’s fingers. It was as if the little dog was trying her
damnedest to give Bobbi the encouragement that she needed.

“Okay, okay,” Bobbi murmured. “I know.”

She heard the door open downstairs and sat
up, glancing across the room. Shane was out with his Friday night
men’s hockey team. Normally they’d be playing but with the league
tournament next weekend there was no hockey this week. Instead
they’d called a meeting, a—what had Shane called it?—a
pre-tournament meeting? Her grin widened. Yeah right, a
pre-tournament meeting at The Grill. She knew what that meant.
Hockey might be involved but it would be whatever game was on the
flat screens.