“I won’t try and screw you outdoors again. I promise. And I’ll take Titus out for quick walks and you can stay here. He’ll be cranky about it, but it’s only a few more days. He’ll survive.”
“No. Shep. It’s not about that. I actually have to leave.” I stand. “I, um, that was the editor-in-chief at Mode. She asked me to come work for her.”
“Oh,” he says. “That’s good, right? My mom used to swaddle me in Mode.” He lets out this laugh as he scrubs the back of his head. “My grandfather used to joke that she was always too Mode for these woods.” I cringe at the way his face drops then, at the way he looks at me. “So you have to leave like right now?”
“She wants me to come in tomorrow. Her assistant is booking me a redeye out of Sacramento as we speak. I have to go,” I say. A sort of clarity washes over me as the words come out of my mouth. It’s not just clarity though. It’s a sense of excitement. And there’s hope for the first time in months. I want this job.
“Okay.” Shep stands too. “Well I guess you should pack. It takes almost four hours to get to SMF and it’s going to snow today. I’d take you, but you have the rental. Are you cool to drive?”
“Yes. I’m okay. I swear. Just a little jittery, but not like swerve off the road jittery.”
“I meant with the snow.”
“Oh, yeah. Fine.” I wave him off. “I took driver’s ed in the dead of winter. I’ll be fine.”
“Okay.” Suddenly we both can’t stand to look at each other.
“I should pack.”
“Yeah.”
He turns toward the kitchen and I head straight into the bedroom. My stuff is spilling out of my suitcase and I still have a ton of things cluttering up his bathroom sink. I start shoving things in side pockets. When I look up Shep is standing in the doorway of his bedroom with my toothbrush and my lotion in his hands. I stop and sit down on the bed.
“I’m sorry,” I say.
“For what?” I don’t miss how casual his voice suddenly is.
“For leaving like this. I fucking barge into your life. Twice! And now I’m like peace, bruh. It’s been fun. After I have a complete meltdown on you in the middle of the woods. I'm such an asshole I actually want you to ask me stay.” The last part comes out like straight vomit, but I can’t take it back.
Shep doesn’t seem to mind how crazy I clearly I am. How shitty. He sets my stuff down on the dresser and just leans back on the solid piece of wood. I watch the muscles in his forearms bulge as he folds them across his chest. He pins me with a cool stare.
“Why would I do that?”
“What?”
“I said, why would I do that? Why would I ask you to stay?” Shit. He’s pissed.
“Sorry,” I apologize again. “You're right. You wouldn’t. Fuck, that was really shitty and selfish of me. You're right. Word vomit. I shouldn’t have said that.”
“And what if I did ask you to stay? It wouldn't make a lick of difference.”
“Shep…”
“He's dead,” he says.
“Who?”
“The bastard who tried to kill you. He's dead, Claudia. He's not lurking anywhere in these woods. He's dead. I killed him. And the man who hurt Miles is about to get the injection! They can’t hurt you!” The words exploded out of him. I’m not sure he knows how loud he’s shouting. I’m swallowing as if that will calm him down.
“I...I know that.”
“No you don’t. I didn’t realize until just now, but I should have—the gun.”
I groan and cover my face. I have completely fucked up this man’s life. “Shep—”
“You know, there was a minute, like a split second where I felt really fucked up inside. I killed a man, but I had no choice. He gave me no choice. Right? I killed a guy. With that shotgun. For you. Because he was trying to hurt you. I didn’t even know you, but he was trying to hurt you so I did what I had to do. And then you come back and I have this—this retroactive bloodlust. I’d do it again. I'd kill anyone who tried to hurt you. But you still don’t feel safe with me.”
“Jesus. Shep. That's not—none of this is on you. None of it. It's on those two pieces of shit and every once in a while I like to blame Miles for his horrible choice in vacation destinations, but none of this is your responsibility. God. You saved my life. You're off the hook!”
