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“Um…yeah.”
Shane presses his eyes closed, holding perfectly still.
Through all of our strange interactions, he’s always been this aloof pillar of strength and protectiveness, but Shane suddenly looks like I could knock him over with my pinky finger.
It doesn’t make any sense.
He’s been rejecting my friendship since the moment we met. Even the five grand felt like a payoff, which is another reason why I couldn’t keep it. But what if this gruff, stoic man really is like those dogs at the clinic? All bark and no bite? What if his all-black, I’ll-murder-you-if-you-talk-to-me persona is a defense mechanism so no one gets close to him?
“Shane?”
But I’m not the only one saying his name. A woman stands on the other side of Shane’s motorcycle, a sleeping infant strapped to her chest.
Her brows crinkle, looking straight at me. “Who’s this?”
Chapter 9
Shane
“Brielle.”
I barely recognize my startled voice, but I haven’t seen my ex in person since she told me about her affair with Mike and that she was pregnant with his baby. The same baby that is currently sleeping in a gauzy wrap thingy.
“Brielle. That’s a pretty name,” Willow says, voice chipper like her face isn’t streaked with mascara.
Willow moves to pull away, but I don’t let her budge. I can’t. Something inside me revolts like an unruly toddler at the idea of Willow’s warmth leaving my arms while my ex scrutinizes me.
Since joining the Waves, I’ve taken great care to avoid the front office where Brielle works. It might as well be a pit of doom with a molten lava floor as far as I’m concerned.
My ex isn’t supposed to be anywhere near the ballpark for the next three months anyway. She’s supposed to be on maternity leave, but I guess she’s meeting with Mike or showing off her new bundle of joy to her coworkers.
“Thanks.” Brielle’s blonde brows crinkle. “And you are?”
“Willow.”
She wiggles the fingers resting on my chest since she can’t pull back enough for a full wave. The action tickles, and when I twitch, Willow’s eyes flash with excitement.
“Are you ticklish?” she asks in a low whisper.
“No,” I mutter back, jaw tight.
“You are.”
Her dazzling smile almost makes me forget that my cheating ex is steps away.
Almost.
Brielle clears her throat. “Are you okay, Willow?”
“Oh, yeah. Never better.” Willow moves to flop a dismissive hand but can’t because I’m holding her captive like a barbarian.
A grumble sounds in my throat as I loosen my arms, finally letting her go. Willow sways a little, and I steady her with a palm before she nervously tucks her hair behind her ears. When goosebumps spread down her bare arms, I take off my motorcycle jacket and drape it over her shoulders. Willow immediately tucks her arms through my jacket sleeves with a giddiness that I shouldn’t find endearing.
Brielle watches us, lips in a firm line.
“It’s good to see you, Shane,” Brielle continues, mindlessly fingering the four-carat diamond solitaire necklace I bought her after we started dating.
My chin drops to my chest as pain rakes down my spine. Some nights, I lie awake in bed, wondering when this feeling will fade. That bone-breaking sensation of rejection combined with the knowledge that, even after trying to do the right things, it wasn’t enough.
