Page 51 of Fortune's Control
17-Shane
Lilah slammed the door shut, leaving me alone.
The oppressive silence she left behind pushed down on me. I breathed in the familiar comfort of old wood and dust, but found the faintest trace of lemon.
I grabbed my nearby shirt and put it on before moving to the washbasin to slap cool water on my face.
My leg throbbed as lightning bolts moved down my calf to my ankle.
I ignored my doctor’s suggestions, preferring the cruel finality of amputation to any futile hope. I never regretted that choice, and still don’t. There was no point in explaining and no reason to share. Jack worried for me; the townsfolk cheered me on, and I ignored it all.
I left the tools where they lay and flicked off the fluorescent lights.
*****
She didn’t respond to my knock.
I opened her door anyway and found her staring at the open suitcase on her bed. “You’re not leaving, so put it away.”
“Are you telling me what to do again?”
“Yes.” I zipped the suitcase shut and set it on the floor, far from her. “You’re welcome, by the way. I hope Pirate enjoys hernew bed.”
Her face scrunched up. “You came here for the cat bed?” she scoffed.
“I’m here because you left before we finished our conversation.”
“Get out. You just said that. It’s a direct quote.”
“It was a poor choice of words.”
“A poor choice of words? Shane, I think we should call this off.” Lilah drew her hands into a fist before forcing them to relax. She sucked in a breath and lifted her shoulders before they fell back. “From the beginning, we agreed to get an annulment after the gossip died down.” Lilah’s voice weakened as she struggled to say the next part. “I think it’s time to end this.”
Like hell we would. “You’re wrong.”
“We kept secrets from each other, Shane. Do you know what that implies? This isn’t real.”
“Not anymore. Our secrets are out, and no.”
“No?”
Sophie prodded me to fix this, and I managed a bang-up job so far. I forced Lilah to tell me why she came to Fortune’s Creek and hardened myself at her distress. She found the topic painful, and I kept demanding answers.
It was fair to give her the same. If there was any future, even a glimmer of one, Lilah had a right to know.
“No. We aren’t getting an annulment. Not today and not tomorrow. Come with me.” I took her hand before she could protest. “See my room. We can revisit that topic later.” We wouldn’t, but I’d save that argument for another time.
Lilah took in my bed’s slate gray bedding and mismatched furniture. “Sober.”
I snorted at her frank description. “That window seat used to be decorative, and now I use it to get dressed. You can look in the bathroom. Jack installed a handrail in the shower for me, and I use it more than I care to admit. There are anti-slip pads, too. I bought the shower chair.”
Her eyes drifted to the ugly metal walker in the corner.
“I used that early on, mostly during physical therapy. It’s still here in case of an emergency. I still use the crutches. There’s another pair downstairs in the hall closet.”
Lilah’s features softened as I explained. The invisible shield she protected herself with disappeared, and I knew she listened and understood what I wanted her to hear. This was factual information, and also the most private parts of myself.
“I saw the crutches and assumed they were from a high school injury.”
