"Down the hall, first door on the left."
The bathroom was as neat as the rest of the house. White subway tile, dark fixtures, a shower that looked big enough for two?—
Stop it.
April shrugged out of her damp shirt and pulled on Shane's flannel, rolling the sleeves up her forearms. It smelled even better when she was wearing it, surrounding her in that scent that made her want to do extremely inappropriate things. If only her son wasn’t twenty feet away in the next room.
She caught her reflection in the mirror—cheeks flushed, eyes bright, drowning in Shane's clothes—and had to take a breath.
Get it together.
When she came back out, Shane had a fire going. Or rather, he was in the process of building one while Kevin watched from a careful distance, firing questions faster than Shane could stack kindling.
"Why do you start with the small stuff?"
"Because it catches faster. Big logs need heat to get going."
"What if you don't have matches?"
"Then you use a ferro rod. I'll teach you sometime."
"Can you teach me now?"
Shane glanced up, caught April watching, and smiled. "Maybe after dinner, bud. Your mom's probably starving."
April was starving, but not for food. She was hungry for this—the easy way Shane talked to Kevin, the patience in his voice, the way he took her son's endless curiosity seriously instead of brushing him off. The way Kevin looked at Shane like he hung the moon.
The way Shane looked at Kevin like the feeling was mutual.
This could be my life,April thought, and the realization hit her with unexpected force.This could be us. Every Sunday, every day. Coming home to this. To him.
The thought should have terrified her. Instead, it felt like walking out of a casino with her lucky purse full of cash.
Shane struck a match and the kindling caught, flames licking upward. Kevin leaned in, fascinated, and Shane's hand came outautomatically to keep him at a safe distance—protective without thinking about it.
April's chest went tight.
This should have been my life all along.
The thought slipped in uninvited, bringing with it a complicated tangle of emotions she didn't want to examine too closely. She could have had this years ago if things had been different. If Shane's father hadn't been a bastard. If Shane had been brave enough to stand up to him then instead of later. If she'd continued on to California instead of Vegas.
She could have been this happy all along.
Except—
April's gaze landed on Kevin, his face lit by firelight as Shane explained the physics of combustion, and something in her chest twisted. If she'd gone to California with Shane, she wouldn't have Kevin. She'd have different children—Shane's children—in some alternate universe where they'd stayed together and built a life.
But not this child. Not her wild-hearted, brilliant, sometimes difficult, perfect boy.
The dissonance sat heavy in her stomach. She couldn't regret the path that brought her Kevin, but by God, she could grieve the years she'd lost with Shane. The life they could have had if the world had been kinder.
If they'd both been braver.
Stop it,she told herself firmly.You're here now. That's what matters.
Shane looked up again, caught her watching, and raised an eyebrow. "You good?"
April pushed off the doorframe. "Yeah. Just hoping your kitchen is as well-stocked as the rest of this place and isn’t full of protein powder or old MREs,” she teased.
