Shame

“I NEED SOME TIME OFF.”

Shame planted one hand on the doorjamb and stared into Riley’s office. His plane didn’t leave until seven, so he had time, but if Riley decided to be an ass, he’d just go on to Louisville and wait his time out at the airport.

“Why?” Riley didn’t even look up from the computer.

“I found out where Charli is. I’m going down there to find out what’s going on.”

Riley looked up slowly. His eyes darkened, mouth going tight. Finally, he leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest.

A wiser man—or somebody who wasn’t Shame—might have taken note of the big biceps that bunched under the short sleeves of the T-shirt. Shame just braced a shoulder against the door and waited.

It wasn’t that he didn’t recognize the look in his old friend’s eyes. He did.

He just wasn’t sure what the deal was.

Nobody seemed to give a flying fuck about the fact that Riley and Con’s baby sister—the apple of their fucking eyes—had disappeared for parts unknown. Or at least, for Playa Del Carmen, a strip of beach down in Mexico, just a little south of Cancun. A bit quieter, a little bit more scenery, but still, it was Cancun. It was Mexico. She’d gone alone to an all-inclusive resort and she’d booked an open-ended trip. He knew, because he’d paid damn good money to find that out, as well as damn good money to find out some other information.

Of course, some of the money he’d paid had been...well, he wouldn’t call it a waste. He’d invested it, hoping for a return. But sometimes, an investment didn’t yield much of anything.

So far, he hadn’t gotten much of a return on anything except the resort in Mexico. She had booked one of the high-end suites and she hadn’t specified when she’d leave.

That had made him mad with jealousy, because as far as he knew, she didn’t have that kind of money.

It also worried him, because how was she affording it?

The one person he’d gotten to talk to him at the resort had assured him that she hadn’t been seen with anybody, but that didn’t mean much. He could just be getting jerked around, or maybe there was nothing for him to find out.

But that was bullshit, because there was something for him to find out.

Meaning—answers.

There was something going on with Charli and he’d damn well find out what it was.

It didn’t have anything to do with the few brief interludes they’d shared or anything else. He was forgetting about those, because that was the best thing to do.

He was going to find out what was up, because she was Con and Riley’s little sister and they were his friends. He took care of them, because they’d taken care of him. That was what friends did.

And that was all this was about.

“There’s no reason for you to go to Mexico,” Riley finally said. He hitched up one wide shoulder and bent back over the paperwork on his desk. For all that he’d spent the past few years of his life away from the football field, the man still looked like he ought to be out doing something other than sitting behind the desk.

Riley had been considered one of the most promising athletes in the state of Kentucky when his parents had been killed in a car wreck back when Charli and Con were still in high school. If Shame had been any older, he would have offered to handle everything, but he’d still been in high school himself, and in another state. He’d had to run away from school—a pain in the ass that had resulted in detention, extra duties around the school grounds and being confined to his rooms once he’d returned—just to attend the funeral. Of course, the discipline hadn’t meant much to him. It wasn’t like he’d attended the military school out of desire. It had been a welcome respite from his life at home, but he hadn’t been there because he wanted to be.

He had never really wanted to be anywhere.

Except maybe here.

He liked being in the bar with the Steeles.

And he liked being around Charli. Although he shouldn’t.

“Look, maybe you want to give her some room, but I know you’re worried—”

Riley shot him a narrow look. “If I thought I needed to haul ass down to Cancun and drag her home, I would have done that. But Bree and Shawntelle have been staying in contact with her. She needed some time to herself. Guess it’s a woman thing. But she’s actually in the air now.” He shot a quick glance at his watch. “She’ll be home sometime today.”

Shame felt like he’d been punched in the gut.

“She’s...” Why did he feel so short of breath all of a sudden? “Oh. Well. Yeah. That’s good. Guess she’s going to get back to work and all. Be back to hanging around the bar and being a pain in the ass.”

Riley didn’t look up.

Riley didn’t say a damn thing.

“Ry?”

After a few more seconds, the other man shrugged. “Sure, Shame. Whatever. Look, I gotta get this shit done, okay? Appreciate you trying to look out for her, but she’s fine.”

The words, though, rang utterly false.

* * * * *

SHAME COULDN’T REMEMBER the last time he’d been by the house where the Steeles had lived growing up.

He avoided it like the plague, because some of his earliest memories had been of this place...of Charli, then her mom, murmuring to him in low voices as they tended to his back.

He’d blocked out a lot of the ugliest shit in his past, and he was content to keep it that way. But some memories didn’t want to be buried. Those memories always worked free when he was here.

He’d gone to visit the graves on the five-year anniversary of the day Mr. and Mrs. Steele had died and as he sat there, another memory had worked free—how Charli’s mom had once held him while he cried and told him if he wanted to come live with them, she’d cut a hole in hell to make it happen. And he’d almost done it.

But he’d seen what his dad could do to people who pissed him off.

Late that night, after he’d spent an hour packing away his things, he’d crept out of bed, unpacked them and put them away.

He wouldn’t ruin their lives, just so he could be happy. If he did that, he really was as worthless as his father said he was.

Coming back here always stirred up memories.

So, he didn’t come back.

But as he sat in front of the house where Charli had lived by herself for the past few years, the engine of the McLaren 570S rumbling like a caged beast, he wanted to kick his ass up the quiet sidewalk of Browning Street and then back.

If he’d come by here at any time in the past few days—hell, the past week or two—maybe he would have been aware of what was going on.

As it was, he had been caught by complete and utter surprise.

Shame didn’t get surprised.

The bottom line was, getting surprised required being invested in the outcome of something. With a few exceptions, Shame just didn’t care enough about anything to get surprised.

But the For Sale sign in front of the rambling old farmhouse hadn’t just caught him by surprise. It had floored him, and he was still trying to pick his jaw up off the floor.

Charli was selling the house.

That house, where she’d once promised she’d take care of him if he was ever hurt.

That house he’d broken into a hundred times to leave food so he’d know that she and Con had enough to eat.

That house, where her mother had once held him when he cried.

She was selling the only house that he’d ever considered a home.

Jaw bunched tightly, he gripped the steering wheel and told himself it didn’t matter.

Even as he slammed his foot down on the gas and whipped the steering wheel around, he told himself it didn’t matter.

He parked behind the house, a headache pulsating in his temple as he climbed out of the car and slammed the door. Staring up at the worn old three-story farmhouse, he tried to figure out just where this rage had come from, and why in the hell it mattered to him if she wanted to sell a piece of her life.

“And mine,” he said.

The sound of his own voice startled him.

But he couldn’t take the words back. How in the hell could he lie to himself?

Every happy memory he had from childhood could be tied to this place. There weren’t a lot of them and they’d all stopped by seventh grade when it was determined by his sainted mother that he should be shipped off to a proper school.

A proper school.

Word had gotten around what her husband was doing to his son and instead of filing for divorce, instead of fighting for her one-and-only son, she’d shipped Shame off to a military school several states away.

It had, in a way, been the best thing that had ever happened to him, save for when he met up with Con in elementary school.

The years he’d been away hadn’t lessened the friendship. Nothing had done that.

But the happy moments had gotten fewer and farther between, and Shame had been away at school when the news came in about the accident that had killed Mr. and Mrs. Steele.

His last happy memory here had been from Charli’s birthday, his last summer home before high school. After that, he’d stopped coming home, save for holidays when his mother had insisted.

The sound of an engine revving snapped him out of his daze and he moved to the side of the house, watching as a car approached, slowing down as it neared the drive.

He didn’t recognize the car, but the woman in the passenger seat? He’d know her blindfolded, lost in a room among hundreds.

Charli Steele was looking toward the house as they pulled in and for a moment, he could see nothing but the sad smile on her face as her eyes moved to the For Sale sign.

Then something alerted her to his presence and she looked up.

Just as the car came to a stop, their eyes met through the open window.

A shield fell across her face and the smile disappeared.

Charli looked away, effectively shutting him out.

She hadn’t done to that to him before.

Not once.

It was a blow he felt down to the pit of his worthless soul.