Chapter Twenty-Four

Still hours before opening, the empty pub echoed the hollowness inside Shea as he worked his way around the room overturning chairs which had been stacked on top of the tables to allow the crew to sweep the floors.

When he’d passed the halfway mark in his task, the back door groaned open, letting in a stream of morning sun, and the silhouette of a man and moved inside. As the door fell shut, the man’s shadowy form took the shape of his youngest brother, Leo.

“Wait, I’m the first one here?” Leo held his arms out at his sides. “Has that ever happened before?”

“Never.” With a smile, Shea set down the chair in his hands.

Though it’d been only a few weeks since Shea had last seen his reclusive little brother, the change in Leo sent a ripple of surprise chasing through him. His deep-set hazel-green eyes glimmered in his sun-warmed face and he’d added some much-needed weight to his rail-thin frame.

“How you doing?” Shea palmed Leo’s hand and gave him a one-armed man-hug. “You good? You look good.”

“Yeah?” An unmistakable hint of humor glinted in Leo’s eyes when he threaded a hand through his short dark hair. “I got a haircut.”

“That must be it.” Shea’s gaze lingered while the knot that’d formed in his chest years ago and twisted itself around all things Leo eased somewhat. “It suits you.”

“How about you?” Leo lowered his body into a chair. “Got any hair appointments coming up?”

Slipping into a chair, Shea stated simply, “Nope.”

Leo’s deceptively casual gaze grabbed him, but Shea ignored it.

He didn’t want to discuss the problem of his marriage. The aching was constant and if he gave in to it, it could easily overwhelm him. Down that road loomed a dark bleakness he’d never thought he’d feel when it came to his wife.

If she considered the life they’d built together a mistake, what did that mean for their future? If all that existed between them was their haunted memories, what could he possibly hope for? An end of the fighting? Good sex? Dare he hope for companionable friendship?

Or, as the years piled up, did a sadder fate await them? More growing apart, more fighting, more assuming the worst about each other, until the torment wore them down and they retreated into themselves? Good sex could only take them so far. Soon, it’d become awkward, impersonal, draining. Unsatisfying.

Their relationship cold. Loveless.

Could he do it? Could he accept such a marriage?

“Don’t worry,” Leo said. “I’m not going to pretend I have some sage wisdom to offer or some such crap.”

A reluctant smile tugged at Shea’s mouth. “I appreciate that.”

“I mean, what the hell do I know about sustaining a relationship for twenty years.”

“Not much, I gather,” Shea said dryly.

Leo slanted forward in his chair and propped his elbows on his knees. “But let me just say this.”

“Here we go,” Shea muttered.

“Whether you and Isobel stay married or go your separate ways, don’t sell yourself short.” Green eyes locked with blue. “You deserve to be happy.”

Shea’s heart slammed against his chest cavity with the tempest of emotion Leo unleashed inside him. A bead of moisture broke out on his forehead and he swiped at it.

“Ah.” Leo reclined in the chair. “I see how it is.”

His chest tight, Shea dragged a painful hiss of air into his lungs. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“You’re out of time,” Leo said softly. “The excuses aren’t working anymore. There are no more lies you can tell yourself, or her. That means there’s only one thing left to do.”

Exasperated, Shea snapped. “Give up?”

“Give in.”

Bitterness colored Shea’s harsh, humorless laugh.

“If there’s enough there pulling you together, then you have to let go of whatever it is that’s keeping you apart,” Leo said. “Pride, anger, fear, whatever it is.”

“Just let it go, huh?” Shea’s lip curled with his sneer.

Annoyingly, Leo chuckled. “I didn’t say it was easy, but it is simple. You have a choice—hold on to your anger or your wounded pride or whatever it is that’s keeping you apart and end the relationship. Put yourselves out of this misery.”

Shea glared at his little brother. “Or?”

“Surrender. Forgive her, and yourself. Be happy.”

“You’re right,” Shea said. “You don’t know shit.”

Leo’s rare smile flirted with forming. “That may be true, but I know the stink of desperation when I smell it. You’re out of other options. It’s time to choose. You can go left, or you can go right, but you can’t have it both ways. Pick one. Yes or no. Go or stop. What’s it gonna be, brother?”

Shea sat back in his chair and, stretching his legs out in front of him, contemplated Leo. “You’ve changed,” he said, his tone accusatory.

Leo shrugged. “I stopped drinking.”

Understanding stole over Shea. “That’s why you don’t come into the pub anymore.”

“I’ve got other things occupying my nights now.” The light in his hazel-green eyes glinted. “Better things.”

“How is the wedding planning going?”

“Don’t know. Don’t care. I went left. Now I’m just enjoying the ride.”

Shea couldn’t recall ever seeing Leo so open and relaxed. “Looks like you made the right choice for yourself.”

Leo’s features pulled into a thoughtful frown. “You know, now that I hear you say it, it really wasn’t a choice at all. At least, it didn’t feel like a choice.”

“What did it feel like?”

“Death.”

A rusty laugh rumbled through Shea.

“And not the good kind of death either,” Leo said.

“Is there a good kind of death?”

“Sure. There’s the kind that brings relief. This wasn’t that kind of death. It was the awful, painful kind,” he said happily. “You know, where you’re kicking and screaming and praying to a God you don’t even believe in, but you’re just that desperate to avoid your fate.”

Weariness pulled at him. Damn, but he was tired. Tired of living half-alive but half-dead.

“You’ve thought a lot about this,” he said.

White teeth flashed in Leo’s tanned face, then a beam of sunlight fell across the floor when the back door opened, and Noah filed into the bar with Jack close behind him.

Shea and Leo pushed to their feet.

“Surrender,” Leo said. “You can thank me later.”

Dark desolation churned in Shea’s gut. He tried to listen as his brothers discussed Jack’s week at training camp and the upcoming hockey season, but the misery swamped him, darkening the world around him.

Through the gloom closing in around him, Shea recognized the light of truth in Leo’s words. The time had come for he and Isobel to decide their fate. Would they stay married or go their separate ways?

For Shea, the choice was easy. He wanted Isobel. He wanted her heart. All of her heart. But how was that possible when, for her, their marriage had been one long drawn out trauma? Why would she choose him?

Despite the fallout with her dad, and after the initial shock, a steady thrum of excitement had hummed inside Shea to be marrying Isobel. For years up until that point, his life had been entirely focused on shielding his brothers from Daniel and scrounging up enough food for them to eat. He hadn’t been living, he’d been surviving. Until her.

Then, she was everything. His life, his love, his adventure. Everything inside him was wrapped up in her and their baby. But he didn’t mean to make marriage and kids her only adventure, and he certainly hadn’t meant to make her do it alone. Could he blame her if she couldn’t forgive him for that?

His gaze touched over his brothers’ faces, and the shadows lifted just a little. “Where’s Luke?”

Noah frowned down at his cell phone screen, his thumb moving across the display screen. “He overslept. He’s on his way now.”

“What’s going on?” Jack kicked the leg of a chair out and straddled the seatback.

“I have some news.”

Wary alarm rippled around the trio.

“Good news or bad news?” Noah asked.

“Good, I think.” Shea didn’t bother to hide his concern. “Though honestly, I don’t know for sure.”

Alarm turned to alertness.

“Hit us.”

“We’ll wait for Luke,” Shea said. “This is something we have to do together.”

Clouds gathered overhead, darkening the sky darkened with impending doom. Fear gripped her. But beneath the terror twisting her insides into knots, an edge of annoyance prickled.

She was tired of being afraid all the time. Fear of storms. Fear of boats. Fear of heartbreak. Fear of love. It’d grown tiresome, and she, exhausted.

She turned away from the window overlooking Main Street. The photographer from Stylish Bride, Marcus, roamed the loft, snapping pictures of her gowns displayed on the dress forms she’d arranged throughout the large space.

With each soft click of Marcus’s camera, her stomach coiled tighter, every shutter closure a new opportunity for her work to be judged.

Judged and found lacking.

She resisted the urge to snatch the camera from him, chuck it out the window, and watch it shatter on the concrete sidewalk below. Instead, she fisted her hands into tight balls until her fingernails bit into the flesh of her palm.

At her side, Shea appeared amiable and relaxed while he chatted with Marcus about the building’s history, but tension gathered in the pinched corners of his mouth. His gaze refused to connect fully with hers and she experienced a painful relief that she didn’t have to witness the disappointment in his eyes.

Marcus turned his camera on the two of them, firing off a round of soft clicks. She fought to hold her stiff smile in place, but the persistent rapid-fire was too much.

Her smile faltered.

The camera lens glared, like a spotlight bringing her flaws into sharp focus and amplifying them.

Shea’s hand slipped to the small of her back waist. Her tripping heart steadied, until his assessing gaze landed on her. it reminded her of the days shortly after he quit working at the law firm. Thought it’d hurt, she’d grown accustomed to his absence from their lives, and when suddenly, he was there, his singular attention focused on her, she couldn’t bear it.

That’s when their real troubles began. She grew to fear the times when he noticed her. She’d never survive the brutal devastation of his rejection.

Click, click, click.

Just when she’d become convinced that Marcus’s irritating camera clicks would never cease, he pulled the heavy piece of equipment away from his grizzled face and smiled. “I think that’ll do it.”

Air leaked out between her teeth.

Marcus packed up and Shea helped him lug his gear downstairs. After they’d loaded the trunk of Marcus’ rental car, Shea returned to the loft alone.

Tension crept into the room as he hovered near the doorway, his expression inscrutable. “Congratulations,” he said. “You did it.”

She anticipated a ripple of joy, or at the very least, relief, but neither emotion affected her. There was a touch of pride at what she’d accomplished, a sort of impartial self-respect that was new to her, but beyond that, no emotion landed with a noticeable impact.

Rather, she experienced an odd absence of feeling. A numbness she didn’t understand.

“So, that’s it, huh?”

“That’s it.” At the unusual hitch in his voice, she risked a glance at him. “I guess there’s no need for us to pretend any longer.”

A bite of alarm broke through her numbness. “Pretend?”

“If we want, we can go back to the way things were.” His Adam’s apple bobbed when he swallowed. “Before Vanessa stopped by the store.”

The words struck her like a blow. Panic whooshed through her. The echo of her heartbeat ricocheted around the inside of her skull.

“Is that what you want, Isobel? To go back to the way things were?”

Denials screamed inside her head, but icy fear crept up her spine.

“I don’t want that.” Her throat constricted. “But I… I’m afraid.”

“Me, too, mo chroí. But it’s time to decide.”

At the sound of raindrops tapping against the windowpane, she turned. Drawing close to the windows, she pressed her hand against the glass. With the tip of one finger, she traced a droplet as it snaked downward.

The steady patter of raindrops pierced her defenses, releasing the memories of those nights she’d slept in the park. The rain had soaked through her clothing and left her shivering even before the heart of the storm struck the island. The wind howled and the terror flowed through her like a toxic sludge to mix with the poison of her dad’s abandonment.

She loved Shea. She loved him for finding her in the park that day, for rescuing her from the paralyzing fear and that dark place inside her that doubted everything and everyone. She loved him, and yet she hesitated. How could she want something so badly that her body became physically ill at the prospect of losing it, yet be too afraid to reach for it?

Shame washed over her at her cowardice, but so too did pity for that young, scared girl who believed so strongly that her marriage had to be perfect, that she had to be perfect, or else she’d suffer—even deserve—her husband’s rejection.

With a jolt, she twisted around, only to realize she was alone in the empty loft.