Page 11 of Blast from the Past

But by the time the sun starts to rise we only have two names on my list: my old high school boyfriend, Kevin, who still lives in town, and another ex, Gavin, who lives in the city. I can’t see either of them doing something like this, but Shane fully believes we can’t cross anyone off without being one hundred percent sure.

I changed into shorts and a tank top a few hours ago, not needing to remain dressed like I was going to a meeting in myown house.

“I’m going to make some more coffee,” I say as I stand and stretch my arms above my head. “Black and bitter still good for you?”

But Shane isn’t listening to a word I am saying. No, his focus is centered on the strip of skin I exposed above my shorts while I was stretching. I know he is seeing what I always try to hide from the world, the scar beneath my ink. His gaze collides with mine, brimming with questions.

“Let me make some coffee and I will be back.” I sigh, knowing I can’t avoid this conversation. He is too bullheaded to just let something like this go.

When I have the coffee made, I leave it on the table before seeking him out. This is a conversation we should have while seated. I find him in the living room looking at old pictures that I put back up when I got to town. Some are family photos, but others are of me and one or more of the Blake brothers as we grew up. My mother loved those boys like they were her own, and Mrs. Blake always treated me like the daughter she never had. We were a little patchwork of broken families, glued back together and raised by two amazing women.

“I remember this,” Shane says and smiles. He points at a photo of me in my cheerleading uniform and him in his football kit. “We won that night and went on to the championship game.”

“It was a good night.” I smile.

“Until that idiot Tommy Smith tried to kiss you,” he says and frowns.

“Oh my God!” I laugh. “I forgot about that.”

Shane looks like he wants to say more but remains silent. I feel like the two of us, being here like this, may be good for our relationship going forward, if we can only talk and be honest without being hostile. But it seems like a default setting for both of us.

“Are you going to tell me what happened?” he asks quietly, and I sigh.

“There isn’t much to tell. I was sick and now I’m not.” I turn to walk away but he grabs my wrist and pulls me back.

“Mercy,” he says softly, staring at me, imploring me to tell him everything.

Even when we were children, he would do this. I never could keep a single thing hidden from him.

“I had cancer.”

“Had?”

“Yeah.” I fight hard to keep the tears at bay that spring up every time I have this conversation. “I got the surgery and some chemo, and now I am in remission.”

“When?” he asks but he already knows the answer.

“It doesn’t…” But he cuts me off with a glare. “It’s why I moved to the city,” I say softly.

“Jesus Christ, woman!” he yells, and I jump at the anger in his voice. “You left your home, the only family you had, to go through this alone?”

He is seething with rage as he runs his hands over his face, pacing the length of the living room.

“I didn’t want to be a burden,” I try to explain.

“Fuck off with that shit,” he roars. “We love you even if we don’t always know how to show it.”

“Shane,” I try to calm him down.

“You could have died.” I hear the pain in his voice, and the tears I have been fighting off finally fall down my cheeks. “I can’t be here right now.”

He doesn’t give me a moment to explain the logic I was following when I made my decision. He doesn’t want to hear that I know I made the wrong choice back then, or that I picked up the phone to call him a million times but never did. He’s hurt and angry and I don’t know if anything I say will ever undo theharm I caused years ago.

The door slams behind him as he walks out and my heart shatters. It’s not like my life could be any more complicated. I have a psycho sending me disgusting gifts, the only man I’ve ever loved just walked out, and I can’t stop fucking crying.

Chapter Seven

Shane Blake

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