Recalling Reality

Chapter 8

Hanging out with the boys is okay. Gabe is usually drawn into his games. T.J. is constantly out back, kicking his ball around the yard. As for the little one: he is constantly flinging his boogers all over the house and I am having to pay close attention to him. At five-years-old, you would think he would have outgrown the whole nose picking thing, but I was wrong. Taylor says it's a boy thing, but I will ask Shane when he gets home from work.

"I am home, and I don't plan on going back out." Joan pokes her head out the patio door, but doesn't smile or anything to greet me.

"We played quite a bit today, and the boys had a snack at around two. Joey is into his booger flinging." I stand, and realize I am talking to myself. She's not at the door anymore. Instead of just heading next door, I stride into the kitchen to collect my laptop bag. Joan is on her phone already, complaining about something I did or didn't do. "Great. I'm glad to help you out."

Shrugging it off, I exit through the back door and down the stairs. The soccer ball rolls over to me and I give it a little kick back to T.J. He thanks me and goes on playing. I cross the lawns and make my way up the steps to Shane's. Sliding the door open, I walk in and put my case on the table that we haven't used yet.

There is a tie on the arm of the couch.

My chest tightens, and I look at the front door. It flies open, and the blond haired man emerges with a hand full of mail. Dark circles are hovering around his blue eyes, and the exhaustion is weighing down his shoulders. We planned to talk about my books and marketing, but seeing him so tired, I don't want to. There are better things that we could talk about.

"How was work?" The words emerge before I can stop them, and his attention shoots up to me.

"Long." The smile creeps over his face, and he releases a pent up breath that calms his stiffened shoulders. "I'm just glad to be home."

"Why?"

"Because you are here." He tosses the mail on the coffee table and plops into the leather recliner, making them both rock back and forth. "I was hoping you would be here when I got home."

"You did offer to let me stay. Is that still a problem?" Joining him in the living room, I slip into the corner of the couch and tug the lightweight fleece blanket over my bare legs.

"Not at all. You can take my room."

"I'm not kicking you out of your bed."

"Then we can share." I stare at him until the smile comes out and he begins laughing. "Okay. Okay. You can have the bedroom. I haven't slept in there in over three years."

"The bed is so comfortable. How can you not sleep in there?" My chest tightens as the laughter begins to fade away, leaving a ghost of memories behind in his features.

"I bought a new bed and everything for in there, but I just can't... Yet." He springs up from the chair and throws his body onto the couch, his head landing in my lap. "I have to show up for a meeting tomorrow, and then I am taking the rest of the week off. Working from home, actually. So, we can work on your stuff."

"Can I ask you something?" The itch greatens and I want to run my fingers through his blond hair, but I resist. Being around Shane has given me so much already, and I don't want to overstep my boundaries. Not until I figure him out.

"Of course."

Instead, he grabs my hand and massages my fingers.

"What's going on with Quinn and his wife? It's like I am never going to meet her until the wedding." Once again, the mystery woman was supposed to show up for lunch, but she never did come. Quinn sent me a text, telling me that she wasn't going to make it, so I let it go.