Page 79 of The Rebound Plan

"I am fine with that," she repeats. “It’s that whole audience thing, you know? Double-sided. Two weeks ago, I had plans to start a podcast, and now—" She stops and stares at me, her eyes painfully bright. "And now the thought of everyone in the world having access to thiswoundthat is my marriage makes me want to shrivel up into a tiny ball and never be perceived ever again by anyone.”

CHAPTER 29

SHANNON

I’ve said too much. Way, way too much.

But as Russ holds my face and wipes my tears away, I can’t stop myself. I’ve kept all of this inside for so long, and now that it’s spilling out, it’s like an avalanche of confessions.

“I—I can't, Ican'tmake this antagonistic. It would spiral out of control so fast. I need to wait, and I need Max to…” Oh God, I feel faint. “You can’t tell him.”

“I won’t.”

“You can’t…” I try to focus on his face. On the light dusting of freckles across his nose. His thick brown eyelashes, golden at the tips. His close-cropped beard. There are so many parts of Russ I’ve never let myself notice before, and they’re all so close now, leaning in across the picnic table.

“I. Won’t.”

“You’re a protector,” I whisper, dropping my gaze. “I see that. You can’t try to protect me here. I don’t need that.”

For a moment, he holds my face, and I think he might tell me to look at him again. But then he releases me, letting me hang my head. He gets up, the picnic table creaking, and he comes around to sit beside me, shoulder to shoulder, but he’s facing the other way, out to the back of the garden.

Close enough to lean on him if I want to, but no longer demanding eye contact.

Finally he asks, “You okay, Shan?”

I swallow around the lump in my throat. “Yeah.”

“Are you safe, I mean?”

My gaze jerks up, looking sideways to meet his laser-sharp attention.

“Has he ever?—”

“No.” I cut him off because I don’t want to have to defend Max any more than the bare minimum. I’m furious with my husband right now, but he’s not going to hurt me. Not with his hands. Not even with his words.

My husband hurts me with his silence, and his absence. That’s enough.

Russ nods.

I drain the last of my coffee, just a sip, and it’s not enough. My throat still feels dry. “It’s for the best that I try to make my marriage work for a while longer. I hope that, as my friend, you can support it."

His throat works.

I look away. I need to hold myself back from begging.Please, Russ, please support me and support us in this.

The more desperate I get, the faster he’ll agree. But I can’t push him like that if he doesn’t understand why this is important to me.

I twist away from him. “I need some water. I’ll be right back.”

He stops me, his hand on my arm first, and then his arm wrapping around my waist, pulling me back against him. “I’ll get it for you,” he whispers into my hair. “And I’ll keep your secrets, too. I promise you that.” Then he releases me and stands up. “Stay here and enjoy the garden.”

He grabs my empty cup, leaving his own half-finished coffee in his spot, and gives me another soft smile before heading inside. I watch him stride toward the back door of the bakery, his long legs eating up the lawn, the sun glinting off his reddish-brown hair that looks golden in the late autumn afternoon light. In another universe, I’d have been a small town girl from Michigan who went to a hockey game and bumped into this lovely Scottish mountain of a man. I’d have flirted so hard, felt so lucky to have his attention.

I’m lost in that fantasy when I hear my name. Not in a light Scottish accent, but my husband’s voice.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

I jerk my head up, expecting Max to have confronted Russ, but we’re alone. Max is holding his hands out, palms up, and I belatedly process his words differently. He’s not angry, just confused, because I’m not one to sit in a garden, and per our shared calendar, he would have expected me home an hour ago—not that he would care about that.

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