Page 67 of Tempest at Annabel's Lighthouse
“And to rest!” Shea argued.
“Because He needed to prepare to give more of himself, not become one with himself and His own self-importance.”
Agitated, Shea sucked in a breath and pushed up from the chair. Pete was as dense as they came, and this was the evidence of that. Arguing theology while recovering from being hit by a car? That summarized Pete in a nutshell. He never just focused on the root issue—whatsheneeded. It was always something else. Always...
At that moment, the essence of Pete’s argument slapped against Shea’s consciousness. Her needs. What about his? Whatabouthis? Shea marched to the window and turned her back to Pete in the bed. She hugged herself as she stared out the window. The sunny spring day was happy. It was pleasant. And here she was arguing the philosophy of self-care with the man she’d tried to get away from to begin with.
“And Holt?” Pete’s question bounced off her back.
“What about him?” Shea’s question echoed off the windowpane.
“You two have a thing?”
Shea looked over her shoulder at Pete with exasperation. “Of course not.”
“But you like him.”
Well, she had before she thought he might have hit Pete with his car. But since Pete had eliminated that possibility... “He’s a nice and helpful man.”
“Everything I’m not?” Pete challenged.
Shea faced him. “He’sattentive, Pete. He cares about what I do. The other night? When that person scared the pants off ofme in the lighthouse and smeared fake blood on the window? You were all business. The police pulled up, and off you went to talk to them, whereas Holt stayed behind to make sure I was okay. He made sure I wasokay, Pete,” she repeated, hoping he’d get the point.
Pete’s eyes widened. “Really? You wanted me to stay and coddle you instead of taking care of the situation? I’m trying to take care of you, Shea. I’ve fixed your cars, and I drove up here to make sure your windshield got repaired. Then I drove you around and helped you with your research. I spoke to the cops, I mean ... what? You’d rather I stop all that, snuggle with you, and watch a movie? Sure, I can do that. Let’s snuggle when we get back to the lighthouse, and then you can take care of everything else. I’ll just dote on you like the princess you are, and I’ll stop doing everything I do to take care of you—to take care ofus!”
Shea swallowed. The fact Pete had strung that many words together stunned her. The fact he was throwing a list of deeds at her as if they were his Get Out of Jail Free card was ridiculous.
“I just want to be cherished, Pete.” She choked back a sob that made its way up completely against her will.
“Yeah? And taking care of you isn’t that?”
“I don’t need to be taken care of—I need to be loved.”
“Maybe I do too,” Pete stated. “Maybe I need to know you respect what I do. That you respectme. That you don’t see me only as your butler or your handyman. I may not be the romantic lead of a movie or the model on the cover of some novel, but if making sure you can live your dream to travel and write while I try to get through my anxiety that something might happen to you—well, if that doesn’t tell you I love you, then I don’t know what will.”
“Maybe say the words,” Shea retorted while simultaneously beginning to feel like a spoiled, mean girl.
“Fine. I love you.” Pete spit them out, and yet Shea knew he meant them. “I always have. I thought you could see that. EverythingI do is so you can be content, so you can live the life you love. But if you want some hunky, doting hero like Holt, then go for it. I don’t know what else I can do. Because we could snuggle and be all sappy with each other, but when stuff like this happens? When one of us almost gets killed? You realize then what you came close to losing, and I guarantee you, Shea. You find out it’s not the romance you’ll miss. It’s that your car started this morning, that there’s money in the bank to pay the mortgage. The fact that we do life together, and sometimes it’s just redundant and dull and stupid. But you know what? There are people in this world—couples—who wouldkillfor a routine life. We’re comfortable. With each other. I’mcomfortablewith you, Shea. Why is that a bad thing?”
Shea’s chest heaved as her breaths came in rapid succession. She stared at her husband. What Pete said made sense. It was also disappointing. Comfortable was boring, wasn’t it? Comfortable meant there was no more spark, no more interest, didn’t it?
Pete’s eyes glistened, and he shut them as though trying to hide the rare emotion.
“I just want you to want me,” Shea managed to squeeze out around the lump in her throat.
Pete didn’t open his eyes, but his response stunned her. “Yeah. Same here.”
26
PETE HAD WANTED TO RETURNto the lighthouse, and the entire argument had shifted his stubbornness into high gear. Maybe it was that a half-hour car ride was better than the six-to-eight-hour drive to get all the way to their home. Maybe he was making a point. Regardless, it was still the longest thirty-minute car ride Shea had ever been on, and since Pete was in pain-management mode, she had the entire time to self-reflect.
She didn’t like a minute of it.
In truth, Shea still believed she wasn’t completely at fault. Yet little snippets of Pete’s outburst at the hospital made too much sense to be ignored, and it was that left-brained logic that warred with her right-brained need for emotional attachment.
Where was the balance?Wasthere a balance?
To make matters worse, now that Pete had called her out on her attraction to Holt, she didn’t want to see that man again. Not to mention, her own suspicions of Holt made her wary, even if she couldn’t put a finger on a direct motive.
