Lauren watched as Grace got in her car and drove off. She then ventured inside to make the hearty beef stew she’d planned for that night’s dinner, hoping that Shane would be relaxed after his long afternoon of physical therapy.
She found him standing by the window, staring sightlessly into the yard. He turned toward her then, and his eyes immediately darted toward the floor where a mess of broken glass and scattered roses lay.
“Oh gosh! Let me help get this cleaned up,” she cried as she grabbed a wad of paper towels from the counter and stooped down to assist with the mess.
“No,” Shane answered forcefully. His hands shook with a tremor she hadn’t seen before, but he made no motion to stoop down and clean up the flowers himself.
“Don’t be silly,” she said. “I’m here and able, and I think the flowers can still be saved. The glass, not so much.” Lauren let out a small laugh. Accidents happened, and this one proved Shane was just as human as the rest of the world.
“No. Stop!” he said, suddenly enraged or frightened—she couldn’t tell which. He kicked at the fragments of glass using his bare feet, and predictably opened a wound right on his sole. Blood mixed with water in a swirling, mesmerizing stream, like paint washing off from a brush.
“What are you doing? Are you crazy?” Lauren scolded. “Sit down and I’ll go find a first aid kit.”
“No, don’t,” he said again, but his voice had lost much of its power.
“Yes,” she shot back. “Put that butt in the chair and hold this to your foot until I come back with some bandages.” She tore a fresh wad of paper towels from the roll and shoved it into his chest, then rushed toward the bathroom.
It seemed she was always rushing these days. Some relaxing break this was!
Luckily, it didn’t take her long to find a box of Band-Aids and some antiseptic ointment in the medicine cabinet. Even still, when she returned to the kitchen, Shane was not where she’d left him.
The door slammed, drawing her eye over to where he stood before a thin trail of blood. His shaking hands now bore fresh cuts as well.
“What is your problem?” Lauren screamed. This guy had zero self-preservation instinct, and she really didn’t want him to die on her watch. She joined him at the door and pulled him back to the table.
A quick peek out the window confirmed that he had tossed the roses into the frigid yard. Why he would go out of his way to do that, she hadn’t a clue.
“Now sit,” she hissed, putting her hands on her hips as she waited.
“I told you not to worry about it,” he said glumly. “I had it.”
Lauren grabbed Shane’s hand and inspected the tiny cuts and gashes speckled across his palm. “What was the rush? Why couldn’t you have waited five seconds for me to grab the broom?”
He said nothing, but the shaking started up again.
“Fine, don’t tell me.” She sighed. “But whatever the reason for your outburst, we still need to get you patched up.”
“What’s the use?” he moaned. “You think this hurts? It’s nothing compared to having a thousand pounds of metal bust in both your knee caps, pinning you in a huge snow drift where you’re left for close to an hour to wonder if this is it, if this is how you’ll die.”
“That was incredibly specific. Did it happen to somebody we know?” Lauren dabbed some antiseptic onto a cotton ball and pressed it to the first of Shane’s cut. He winced, but didn’t cry out.
“But, small as this might be by comparison,” she continued, “it could still get infected. And not liking how a few flowers looked on the table is no reason to risk that.”
“It’s not that…” Shane argued before losing heart and trailing off into silence.
She waited for him to say more, but he didn’t.
“Well, whatever it is, what you did sure was stupid. It’s a good thing I do all the work around here, because you’re going to be even more useless with that gash on your foot and your hands cut to pieces.”
“Why do you talk to me like that?” he asked, staring at his hands as she worked on them.
“Because that’s the way you need to be talked to. I asked to start over that very first day, and you refused, so this is how our relationship is now, unapologetic and straight to the point.”
Just as quickly as the corners of his face stretched in a grin, they fell back into his perpetual frown. “Maybe that’s for the best.”
Lauren turned his hand over and continued to work on cleaning up the cuts he’d sustained from frantically collecting the roses. “Maybe,” she agreed. “But make no mistake about it: I’m going to figure you out eventually.”
“So much confidence,” he observed. “I doubt you’ll be able to do something that even I haven’t managed to do myself, but good luck.”
She had a feeling he really meant that, that he wanted to be figured out, if not by himself, then at least by somebody out there.
Seeing as he was softening more and more with each moment they spent together that evening, she decided to try again for some kind of explanation. “Will you tell me what you have against roses, especially considering you named one of your dogs Briar Rose?”
“Briar Rose is not my dog,” he said pointedly, as if Lauren had made a terrible accusation without knowing it.
“Funny, seeing as she lives here in the kennels with your dogs.”
“I keep her, but she’s not mine.”
“And the flowers?” She kept her face down as she worked, doing her best not to show how interested she’d become in finding out the answers to the many questions she found herself asking about why Shane was Shane.
“Are unnecessary,” he finished for her before reverting back to his normal callous demeanor. “I don’t like change, and I don’t like you messing things up here.”
“Well, excuse me for trying to add a bit of cheer.”
“Who said I like cheer? Who said this place needed it?”
“Okay, Mr. Grump, you’re done,” she said, slapping the last of the bandages on his hands. “Now show me that foot.”
“Careful of that glass,” he said as she stooped down to inspect his sole.
She couldn’t help but laugh. “Why should I be when you weren’t?”
He smiled again, but then forced a cough to cover it up. This time when she applied the antiseptic to his gash, he jerked in pain.
“Easy, boy,” Lauren said, gripping his ankle to hold him in place just as much as to keep her balance.
“I don’t like you taking care of me,” he said.
“Then stop leaving me no other choice.”