Page 69 of Shane

“Slow and easy,” she murmured as again, she shifted around him, squeezing other specific targets: points under his jaw, at the sides of his neck, even alongside his nose and eye sockets. When she finished, she moved down to his knees and gently told him to, “Straighten your legs for me, please.”

Shane was breathing easier by then. He obeyed, his eyes still tightly closed. It seemed the more she handled him, the more compliant he became.

“That’s really good. I’m proud of you,” Tuesday whispered sweetly, almost as if he were a little boy instead of a full-grown, combat hardened, badassed Marine. “You’re feeling drowsy, aren’t you?”

His head bobbed. “Yeah, I guess.”

“Thanks for helping me help you, Shane,” she whispered back. With each word, she’d spoken softer, until Everlee had to move in closer to hear her.

“Help me get his boots off,” Tuesday said.

Without a word, Everlee unlaced Shane’s boots, then tugged them off and set them aside.

Very calmly, as if she’d done this before, Tuesday slid her hands up under his pant cuffs and took hold of his shins. Without asking for Everlee’s help this time, she performed the same type of squeezing massage. Shane seemed calmer this time around. Didn’t cuss once.

“I need your help with this next part, Everlee,” Tuesday whispered when his head fell back on his shoulders. “We’re almost done. Measure one palm width below his kneecap. Do like this.” Tuesday showed Everlee precisely where she needed to grip the lower part of Shane’s leg.

It seemed such an intimate thing to do, grab a man’s well-muscled leg while he was suffering. But Everlee focused on how relaxed Shane became at her touch and did what Tuesday asked.

“Yup, right there. Perfect. Now press the pads of your fingers, not your fingernails, into his leg muscle. Press hard. Squeeze as tight as you can. Right there. Like this.” She illustrated on his left calf. “Not gently. He’s a big guy. He can take it. Keep the pressure up until I tell you to release. It’ll hurt him a little, but it’ll also break the negative energy flowing through his body.”

That actually made sense. “Got it,” Everlee whispered, her hands now flattened around Shane’s hefty calf. This wasn’t exactly how she wanted to touch him, but he was breathing easier, so Everlee focused on that. If a simple massage lessened his migraine, she was all for it.

“Good job, Ev, now quick. Release.” Tuesday let go of his other leg and pulled her hand away.

Everlee did the same, almost. Inexplicably, her fingers fluttered as if she were sprinkling fairy dust. Which was such a girly thing to do. She hoped Tuesday hadn’t noticed. Tuesday hadn’t sprinkled anything. Nothing but—kindness. Which was damned humbling after all the mean things Everlee had said to her.

“Now, Everlee,” Tuesday whispered. “Let’s repeat what I did with the pressure points of his hands. Squeeze hard, then… quick release.”

Everlee shifted positions from Shane’s feet to alongside his hip and did what Tuesday asked. Squeeze hard. Quick release. This time, without fairy dust.

“You ladies have magic fingers. I do feel better,” he said groggily.

“That’s why we’re here,” Everlee whispered contritely. How does anyone admit they were wrong? How could she ever ask Tuesday’s forgiveness?

Tuesday took hold of Shane’s shoulder and leaned him forward. His body was now slack enough that he tipped into her for support. Something about the gentle way Tuesday put an arm around Shane and held him against her bugged the hell out of Everlee. Yet Tuesday didn’t seem affected by Shane’s close proximity the way Everlee would’ve been, nor did she take advantage of the man almost laying in her arms. Taking hold of his hand closest to her, she pinched between his thumb and index finger, hard enough that he grunted.

Everlee followed suit with his opposite hand. “Does this hurt him?”

“Nah,” Shane grumbled, his chin on Tuesday’s shoulder and his face in her hair. “Feels kinda good.”

“Everlee,” Tuesday whispered, bringing her attention back to the matter at hand. “I need you to find something that will make a soft landing for this man once I lay him down. Please, hurry. He’s a big guy.”

“He’s out cold?”

“Like a rock.”

“Okay, sure.” That she could do, and she could do it fast. Anything to get Shane out of Tuesday’s arms, damn it. Suddenly, irrationally jealous, Everlee scurried from under the draped canvas and into the open hangar. Taking a big breath of fresh air, she quickly grabbed their gear bags and dragged them into the now blacked-out office. But all she had to offer was her roll of dirty clothes from the day before. Oh well.

“Thanks,” Tuesday breathed, as, between the two of them, they cupped the back of Shane’s head and neck, and lowered him onto the makeshift pillow. Everlee straightened his long legs and removed his socks. Tuesday grabbed the bucket and ducked out, leaving Everlee with a decision to make. Either she followed Tuesday to make sure she didn’t run, or she trusted her like Shane did, and stayed with him to make sure he didn’t vomit in his sleep and choke to death.

Aww, who was she kidding? Shane was out cold and relaxed enough that he was snoring. It was stuffy in there. He didn’t need her. Not really. It was more the other way around. Everlee needed to be near him. To touch him and watch over him. But he wouldn’t have known she was there, would he? Shane was sound asleep. What was she waiting for?

Decision made. Reluctantly, Everlee eased away from Shane and followed Tuesday, but not because she didn’t trust her. She crawled under the canvas and flipped it back into place to block any light left in the evening sky from reaching Shane. She’d just climbed to her feet, when Tuesday walked back into the hangar, swinging the now rinsed-out bucket, as if cleaning up after a sick man was no big deal. Which it really wasn’t. Everlee had done that often enough for both her dad and her ex. Cleaning up after men came with being female, didn’t it?

“There’s an old well behind this hangar,” Tuesday said, keeping her voice low. “I saw it on the walk in, but this time I tried the pump, and once I primed it with what was left of that bottled water, it actually works. The water tastes better than what comes out of my kitchen faucet. Err, what came out of my faucet.” A shadow darkened her face, probably because that faucet and kitchen no longer existed. “Anyway…” She sucked in a breath and went on. “Shane and I saved our empty water bottles. Now we can refill them.”

“You saved plastic bottles?”

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