cheek.
Dylan shot to his feet, but Luke held him back.
“Assholes,” Shay muttered when they’d settled down in their seats again. They all looked at each other, and perhaps because the day had been so harrowing, the situation struck her as hilarious rather than sad. She started laughing, and once she started, she couldn’t stop. Dylan laughed along with her, and it must have been contagious, because even Luke joined in.
“I can’t believe you told Marianne Pinter her son had an Oedipus complex,” she gasped, wiping tears from her eyes.
“Too bad she doesn’t know what that means,” Dylan replied, and set them off again.
Her stress level had reached its breaking point, and the laughter relieved some of the tension that had been escalating all week. It also opened the door for another outpouring of emotion, and before Shay knew it, she was crying.
Not crying laughing. Crying period.
Dylan’s laughter trailed off and Luke cleared his throat, handing her a tissue. She took it and cried some more, hating that she was breaking down in front of them, the two people she wanted to be strong for, the ones she cared about most.
Pulling herself together, she blew her nose and took a long drink of water.
“Are you okay?” Luke asked, glancing down at her hand.
Her malady was general hysteria, not hemotoxic shock. “I’m fine,” she said, offering him a wobbly smile.
“Because I can take you back-”
“No.” She darted a nervous glance at Dylan. “Really.”
Her brother frowned at Luke. “Take her back where?”
Luke’s eyes bored into hers, letting her know that if she didn’t tell Dylan what happened, he would. “The hospital,” she said, sighing.
Dylan straightened in his chair. “What happened?”
“Someone left a snake at the preserve. I was careless in handling it.”
“What kind of snake?”
“A rattler.”
“You got bit by a rattlesnake?” he asked, raising his voice.
“It was more of a graze. No venom.”
“Jesus Christ! What the hell is wrong with you?”
“What the hell is wrong with you?” she returned, her insides quaking. “I don’t need you slashing tires to defend my honor. You could have been kicked out of school!”
Dylan leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest, reverting into sullen silence.
Shay felt so many conflicting emotions she couldn’t sort through them all. She was proud of her brother for standing up for her but disappointed in him for acting so rashly. As usual, she couldn’t prevent him from causing trouble.
“I have to go talk to Garrett,” Luke said after a moment. “Will you be all right for an hour or so until I get back?”
“Of course,” she murmured. “Be careful.”
“I will,” he promised, rising from his chair and giving her a quick peck on the cheek before he went out the door.
The way he’d said good-bye was so offhand, and felt so natural, that the implications of his actions didn’t sink in right away. If Dylan hadn’t been staring at her like she’d grown three heads, she might not have realized that she and Luke had just acted like a couple.
She lifted a hand to her cheek, feeling it grow warm. “What?”
“You’re in love with the sheriff,” he said, awestruck.
“Not even,” she lied.
The corner of his mouth tipped up. “Well, he’s in love with you.”
That was a far more outrageous notion, and one she didn’t have the heart to protest. The idea was too painful, and it made the empty place inside her ache to be filled.
Betty appeared beside her with a carafe, ready to fill something else. “Coffee?”
“No thanks,” Shay said, covering the rim of her mug. The small red mark on the edge of her thumb was clearly visible under the fluorescent lights.
“What happened there?”
“Nothing.” She drew her hand back self-consciously. To take the attention away from herself, she nodded at Betty, who had her forearm wrapped in gauze. Shay had noticed the bandage a few days ago. “How about you?”
“Just a cat scratch,” she replied, winking at Dylan. “What’ll you have?”
Her brother asked for a burger with the works and a chocolate shake. Shay’s appetite was off, for once in her life, so she requested a small order of fries.
“Coming right up,” Betty said, whisking away their menus.
Shay picked at her napkin, considering what to say next. They hadn’t talked about their parents in longer than she could remember. He always changed the subject. “I know you miss Mom and Dad,” she began. “I miss them, too. That hunting knife-”
“You don’t know anything,” he said, his face darkening with anger.
She threw up her hands in frustration. “Then talk to me! How am I supposed to understand if you won’t let me in?”
He looked down at the table, avoiding her eyes.
“I don’t know what to do with you,” she said, feeling as inadequate as ever. “I can’t stop you from getting angry, and I can’t keep you from being self-destructive. I’ve tried to do right by you, but I don’t know where else to turn. I don’t know anything about being a proper guardian.” She leaned toward him, her voice strained. “I’m not your mother, damn it!”
His head jerked up. “You’re not my mother,” he repeated, studying her face. “Who took care of me when I was little?”
Shay stared back at him in silence, feeling her throat tighten.
“Who walked me to the bus stop? Who cooked me dinner? Who tucked me in at night?”
Tears welled in her eyes. She hadn’t known he remembered.
“I didn’t give a damn when Dad left, because I never counted on him,” he continued. “He was useless most of the time. I knew better than to expect him to stay. And as for Mom… I never knew her at all.”
“Oh, Dylan,” she whispered, blinking the tears from her eyes.
“The person I counted on was you. As far as I was concerned, you were my mother. I was never mad at them for leaving. They weren’t worth it. I was mad at you.”
Her heart felt like it was being wrenched from her chest. She pressed a fist to the front of her T-shirt, trying to alleviate the pressure. “You know I had to go to college.”
“You left in spirit way before that. Running wild with your loser boyfriend. Sure, you came back to Tenaja Falls, and now you support us financially. But you haven’t really been home since Mom killed herself.”
The instant the words left his mouth, she knew he was right. She’d been so concerned with maintaining the status quo and ensuring his continued success in school, she’d completely forgotten how to relate to him as a human being.
She hadn’t been a mother
“I’m sorry,” she said, stunned by the realization. “I don’t know what to say. Except that you’re right. I’m such a screwup.”
His expression softened. “No, you’re not. Mom and Dad were screwups.”
“They loved you.”
He shrugged, not bothering to contradict her.
Tears filled her eyes again. “I love you.”
“I know,” he said, smiling a little. He might have said more, but Betty brought their plates, interrupting the sentimental moment. When forced to decide between making sappy remarks and chowing down on a loaded burger,
