In Your Honor (30 page)

She stepped out of the bathroom in a giant
t-shirt and baggy sweatpants, hair wet. She looked goofy as
hell.

“
You look comfortable,” he
remarked jokingly.

“
Still sexy?” she ribbed
back.

“
Oh, more than ever,” he
confirmed before closing himself into the bathroom for his own
shower. The air was still humid and he was surrounded by her scent
again. He picked up her shampoo to examine the scent; it was a
generic brand he didn't recognize. Fragrance free. Her body wash
was labeled the same. He chuckled to himself as he got clean; the
more he got to know this girl, the more mystery he
uncovered.

He brushed his teeth and shaved, eyes
scanning the bathroom counter for any perfume bottle or lotions.
Nothing.

Shane was completely perplexed. He stepped
into his black boxer briefs and red pajama bottoms, not bothering
with a shirt. Slightly finger-combing his damp hair, he opened the
door, intent on getting his question answered. He paused in the
doorway, watching her for a few seconds.

Chocolate hair tumbled
down her shoulders and soaked her t-shirt in splotches as it dried
where it lay. She sucked her bottom lip into her mouth as her dark
eyes intently absorbed the words on the page of the book she was
reading, David Warren's
Unstoppable.
Could she get any more
perfect?

She must've sensed him watching her because
she looked up, and her smile melted him. He slowly crossed the room
and joined her on the bed, as if she had asked him to without
saying a word.

“
I didn't know you were a
David Warren fan,” he remarked, touching the book edges with his
fingertips.

“
He makes me think.” She
shrugged and closed the book, setting it aside. “What's the plan
for tomorrow?” Her eyes lit up and she leaned towards him, resting
her elbows on her knees.

“
Surfing,” he
grinned.

“
What if I die?” she
asked, not looking alarmed in the least.

“
I won't let that happen,”
he answered honestly as he studied her face. It was completely
absent of makeup, and he realized she probably didn't wear that
much to begin with because she looked exactly the same as she
usually did.

“
I have to check
something,” he told her, remembering his intentions when he had
come out of the bathroom. Leaning in, he deeply inhaled near her
hair. He moved on to her neck and then down her arm. Never
touching, just taking breath after breath of her exquisite
aroma.

“
What are you doing?” she
asked, her voice laced with amusement.

Shane frowned, more confused than when he
started. “I know this is going to make me look like a crazy
fangirl, but I checked your stuff in the bathroom. Everything is
unscented.”

“
Yeah,” she smiled
bashfully and rolled her eyes, “I'm allergic to most fragrances.
They make me itch.”

“
Then how in the world do
you smell so good?” He was baffled. Her simple shrug answered his
question. “It's you, isn't it? You smell like wildflowers and
happiness naturally.”

“
Happiness doesn't have a
smell,” she chided.

“
Like hell it doesn't, you
radiate it.” He saw something pass over her face briefly but it
fled too soon for him to pinpoint what it was. She smiled
hesitantly and he looked at the curve of her mouth, suddenly
distracted.

His fingertips brushed her cheek as his hand
slipped behind her head. She let her knees drop to the side,
allowing him to lean closer, and he used his other hand to brace
himself on the bed. Pausing just before his lips met hers, he
studied her expectant face. Eyes closed, lips parted, her slight
intake of breath as she anticipated what was coming. When he
relented and allowed his mouth to explore hers, he couldn't believe
the electric current that tore through him. Her mouth moved in
perfect concert with his, causing his breath to quicken, and he had
to focus extraordinarily hard to keep the pace slow. She brought on
an urgency in him that he knew he needed to fight.

His hand that was on the bed moved its way
over to her hip and then slid up her side. Her hands rested lightly
on his chest and he knew she could feel the steady thunder of his
heart under her palms. She let out a soft sigh, and Shane thought
he was going to lose all semblance of control.

A distant memory pierced the haze of his
desire. Lenny telling him no, and him not caring to listen. It was
enough to make him examine his current circumstances. He
reluctantly pulled away from the dark-haired beauty who had given
no indication that she wanted to stop. But he had to catch his
breath. He was not going to let his baser needs take over and
potentially ruin the best thing he'd ever found in his life.

“
I'm going to go over to
my couch now,” he said carefully, trying to keep his voice from
giving away his intense longing to finish that kiss. “Goodnight,
Lucy.” He probably should have just gotten up at that moment and
walked away, but he brushed his lips against the tender skin on her
neck under her earlobe and her breath hitched. He would be lucky if
he could sleep tonight.

“
Goodnight, Shane,” Lucy
whispered, her eyes half-lidded and her voice husky. He was
satisfied that his kiss had apparently left her wanting more as
well. That was a good sign.

He settled into his
makeshift bed across the room and let out a sigh as he relaxed on
his back. He couldn't explain it, it didn't make sense, it was way
too soon to be feeling the way he was. He smiled in the dark,
listening to the ocean out the open patio door. If this was what
falling in love felt like, he would gladly take his
time.

It was the smell of bacon that made Blake
realize he had fallen asleep after all. He had convinced himself
that the memories were too strong and the ghosts were too loud to
allow him any amount of rest.

He opened his eyes and looked around the
room that hadn't changed even a little since he'd left town to
chase his dreams years back. His mom had obviously been dusting and
vacuuming, because it still looked lived-in and habitable. He felt
a pang of guilt in his gut as he thought about how he'd stayed away
for so long. He'd always made sure to call on Mother's Day and her
birthday and all the holidays. But that wasn't really the same
thing, was it?

Little League trophies lined the shelves,
walls were covered in band posters—everything from Waylon Jennings
to AC/DC. It was exactly as he'd left it. He probably still had
cigarettes hidden under the bed.

He pushed the covers off himself and
staggered down the steps to the kitchen where his mama was loading
up a plate with eggs and bacon.

“
Mornin', Mama.” He kissed her cheek
as she handed over the breakfast.

“
You drinkin' coffee still?” she
asked, reaching in the cupboard for a cup.

“
Yes, ma'am.” He sat down at the small
kitchen table and waited for her to join him.

“
What are your plans for today?” she
asked, plunking down the steaming mug.

“
I have no idea. I figured I'd get
home first, then go from there.”

“
Sounds like you.”

She let him eat for a few minutes before
suggesting, “You could get that old bike out of the shed and see if
it still runs.” She smoothed the seam of the tablecloth with her
thumb too casually before her green eyes flicked up and Blake could
see the slight dare in them.

Blake wiped his mouth with a napkin as his
eyebrows went up. “You still have my bike? I thought you'd have
sold it by now.”

“
I knew you'd be back,” she replied
nonchalantly, a small smile playing on her lips. “And that bike is
a piece of you as much as those tattoos you have.”

“
Thanks, Mama.” He chuckled at her.
“For the breakfast, too,” he nodded at his empty plate.

“
You get yourself cleaned up and get
out of here. I don't want you back 'til supper.” She patted his arm
and stood up abruptly.

“
What are you gonna do?” he frowned,
confused as to why she was seemingly kicking him out all of a
sudden. He had just gotten home a few hours ago, he thought she'd
want to spend more time with him first.

“
I have students today.” She gave him
a smile like when she knew he was up to no good. “And I promised I
would help you this week... that means you gettin' off your butt
and facin' the day.” Her hand landed on her hip as she cocked it,
waiting for his inevitable argument. She knew him too
well.

He shook his head at her, holding back the
grin that wanted to escape. He swilled back the last of his coffee
before he complied with her wishes and hit the shower. She was
right, he needed to get it started if he was ever going to find out
how it finished.

Wiping the steam off the mirror with a
nearby towel, Blake really looked at himself in the glass. He
couldn't remember doing this since that night in the bar in Boston
after he'd seen the touring schedule. He ran a hand over his
unshaven jaw and leaned closer, peering into his eyes. They weren't
bloodshot and glazed over this time, but he still barely recognized
them. They were a similar shade and shape to his mama's, but they
looked so foreign in their tired sockets. Not to mention the lines
that had appeared around them sometime this year. He searched his
reflection for the man he used to know and wondered if he was still
in there somewhere. Or if this shell was all that was left.
This is what happens when you don't deal with the
stuff in the basement.

God knows why he decided to go through his
old clothes instead of wearing something he'd packed. He shook out
an aged pair of jeans and smiled at the worn-through back pocket
from where he carried his wallet. He flipped the pants over and
examined the front. Yup, this was the same pair that Lucy had
pulled the belt loops off of the front with her death grip when
he'd been going way too fast on the Harley. They also had a faded
spray of white paint down the left leg from the night they'd
painted obscenities on the water tower and he'd made fun of Lucy's
haircut. He was lucky she hadn't thrown him off the damn thing.

The pants slid on easily,
fitting him like they should. Opening the closet, he grabbed the
first shirt he saw and tugged it over his head, running his fingers
through his wet hair as the soft cotton settled around his middle.
He glanced down and smirked at his random choice: his light
blue
Underdog
shirt. Lucy had wanted it so bad. She used to beg him for it
but he never gave in. That had been stupid. He should have just
given her the silly shirt, it would have made her insanely
happy.
I have always been a
dick.

“
I like the disheveled look,” Mama
said when he came back downstairs. “Very Indiana Jones.”

“
Thanks, Mama,” he chuckled dryly and
opened the drawer next to the stove, digging for the keys to the
shed.

The air outside was hot but not overly so.
He took a deep breath and looked around at the familiar houses. It
was weird to be back and not have Lucy with him. More weird than he
had anticipated.

She'd been his shadow since the day they
met. An only child that he quickly adopted as his baby sister. Even
at the very young age of eight, Blake had felt an uncontrollable
desire to protect her. The two-year difference between them was
hardly an issue since she was a year ahead in school and he had
gotten held back a year, putting them in the same grade.

A year later, right after she turned seven,
her mom had gotten sick, cancer of some kind. She passed away a
month before Blake's dad died in a work-related accident. They had
comforted each other, each needing the other more and more every
day. Not a lot of kids that age can understand what it's like to
lose a parent, and they had to experience it all together.

Because they shared such a deep emotional
bond, they were completely inseparable after that. Side by side in
every choice they made, whether good or bad.

It didn't become difficult until the summer
she turned fifteen and wanted to start dating guys. She'd blossomed
into this beautiful young woman and Blake suddenly had his hands
full. He would get irrationally jealous and had threatened more
potential suitors than he could count. She would yell how
completely unfair it was that he could date whatever skank he
wanted and she wasn't allowed to say boo. Not that it ever stopped
her. But the entire town knew not to mess with Lucy. Because if
Blake's intimidation wasn't enough to scare some poor boy off, then
her father definitely sealed the deal.

Blake opened the door to the shed and was
immediately accosted by dust and even more memories. He stripped
the sheet off the old Harley and pushed the bike out into the yard.
Grabbing a towel off the porch to wipe it down, he cleaned it up as
much as possible. He ran his hands over the worn and cracked seat,
smiling to himself as he remembered the day he'd bought it.

Lucy had dared him to.

He was seventeen. It had been sitting
in the neighbor's yard with a
For
Sale
sign on it for less than a day. It would have
cleaned out his entire savings, and he didn't know how to drive a
motorcycle anyway.

Lucy taunted him with it. She was a very
precocious fifteen-year-old. She knew how much he wanted it and she
played every one of his weaknesses. Until she flat out dared him
to. How was he supposed to walk away from that?