Shane left.
After he grabbed his things and walked out, leaving me, Daisy, and Loki wondering what was happening, he’d walked out the door without looking back.
I probably stood there for five minutes, stunned, still half-asleep, wondering what the hell just happened.
I haven’t even had my coffee yet.
I finally got moving once Loki started crying at the door. I opened it to let them both outside, then wandered around the house, looking for evidence that he was coming back. But, all of his stuff was gone.
Poof.
It was like he’d never been here.
I looked around the house and realized the house was completely mine. Even though Shane had taken his things, it looked exactly the same. He’d never really lived here in the first place.
I’d never ordered his bedroom set, so he’d slept on the couch. He used the guest bathroom upstairs, and hadn’t brought any furniture, knickknacks, or personal items from his studio apartment.
I never made him feel like this was his house, too. It was always mine.
God, I was an asshole.
I kept running his words over in my mind. All day it was all I could think about.
I got what I wanted, and Shane left empty-handed. All because I was a big-ass chicken who couldn’t appreciate what was right in front of me. He’d been completely transparent with his feelings, and, as usual, I’d guarded my heart like it was the hope diamond.
I walked out into the front yard, still in my pajamas, my eyes lingering on Shane’s normal parking spot, which was empty.
Sinking to the ground, I hugged Daisy close while Loki jumped round us, wanting to play.
“What am I gonna do?” I asked them, wishing they could answer, since there was no one else I could ask.
I didn’t want to call around and ask my cousins or Jed if they’d seen Shane, because I wasn’t ready to admit something was wrong. I couldn’t see him going to any of their houses, not unless he wanted to answer a ton of questions.
He had to come back … Where else would he go?
I moped around all day, hoping he’d show up and let me explain my side of things, give me the chance to apologize and tell him what a coward I am.
When that didn’t happen, I decided to be that girl and go find him at work. I figured he’d have to listen to me there, and if not, I’d get Aunt Annabeth on my side and we’d double team him.
I’d just tell her we had our first fight.
With my get Shane back plan solidified, I kept myself busy by cleaning the house.
I was really going to town, vacuuming the couch cushions, when I lifted the middle cushion and found a notebook. I turned off the vacuum and set it aside, before sitting on the sofa and opened it.
After reading a few lines, I realized it was Shane’s and closed it.
I laid it on the couch next to me.
Are these his songs?
It read more like songs or poetry than a journal, so it wouldn’t really be an invasion of privacy if I read it, right?
I picked it back up and started flipping through.
There were hundreds of songs. Songs about friends, songs about lovers, and even a cute one about Loki.
But, it was the one on the last page that had my heart in my throat.
He wrote a song about me.
Her laughter runs through my veins
With sea glass eyes and sunset hair
She takes me back home to a place of peace and love
Surf’s up and the tide is high,
But as long as she’s by my side, I don’t need land
The ocean may be my mistress, but she is my life
There was more, but I couldn’t see it. My heart was pounding painfully, echoing through my soul and beating along to his lyrics.
This was what Shane should be doing. Not bartending, not becoming a biology teacher. No, he should be playing music, or at the very least selling his songs. I wasn’t sure why he hid this side of himself.
If I had one ounce of his talent, I’d be screaming it from the rooftops.
I looked at the time and saw he should be getting to work soon, so with the notebook clutched to my chest, I went to get ready.
Once I’d showered and took care doing my hair and makeup, I told the kids I’d be back, and promised Daddy would be, too. Notebook in hand, I’d locked up behind me, sent up a prayer that Loki and Daisy wouldn’t destroy the place while I was gone, and went off to get Shane back.
I’d parked and was walking down Main Street when I passed one of Cherry Spring’s oldest residents.
“Evening, Mrs. Dingle,” I called, but kept moving, hoping she wouldn’t want me to stop and chat.
“Jasmine, dear, so good to see you,” she said with a pleasant smile. “I’ve heard congratulations is in order.”
“Oh, yes, thank you,” I said, stopping next to her so as not to be rude.
“That handsome young man from England is sure to keep you on your toes.”
“Yes, I’m sure he is, but Shane is from Australia, Mrs. Dingle.”
She waved her hand like they were the same thing. “You be sure to play it smart, not like your father did with your mother.”
I frowned and asked, “My father? What do you mean?”
“Well, when they were courting, your daddy was dragging his feet, afraid to commit. So, your mom had to take things into her own hands. She went on a date with Peter Ferguson. Once your dad saw her with another man, he realized what he had with your mom and staked his claim. They’ve been married ever since.”
Mrs. Dingle laughed, delighted with the memory.
“Well, I guess we don’t have to worry about that since you already married your man,” she said, but I swear her eyes carried suspicion.
“Yes, ma’am. I’m actually going to see him now,” I said, nodding toward the door to the bar. “I’ll see you later, Mrs. Dingle. Have a good night.”
“You too, dear.”
I waved goodbye and turned to go inside.
It was a typical weeknight crowd, one that I would have been a part of when I lived in my apartment down the street.
Funny, I don’t miss it at all.
Once my eyes adjusted to the darker room, I swung my head around, looking for Shane. He wasn’t behind the bar, or anywhere in the dining room, so I walked over to where Becs was filling a glass at the soda fountain.
“Hey,” I said in greeting.
Becs looked up at me and her face froze, then turned positively hostile.
Before I could ask what was up, she said, “Shane called in,” and stormed off, leaving me standing there, hope bleeding out of me.