Jeremiah sat on his front steps, so he saw Shannon coming down the street with Hercules at her side the moment she turned the corner. She walked with her head down, that dark hair gathered into a ponytail on top of her head.
She really was the sexiest woman in the world to Jeremiah, and his heart kicked out an extra beat. She hadn’t sounded especially upbeat on the phone a few minutes ago, and her whole demeanor looked like she was operating under a dark cloud.
He stayed right where he was on the steps, just watching her and trying to unknot his own feelings about her. Sure, he’d had a crush on her for a solid year, but their relationship was still very, very new.
Especially for her, he told himself. So go slow. Be understanding.
She spied him sitting on the steps and she called, “Aren’t you sweating to death?”
“It’s not bad in the shade,” he answered.
Hercules certainly looked like he was a breath or two away from fainting, so Jeremiah got up and filled the big dog bowl on the porch with fresh, cold water from the hose. The yellow lab started lapping it up immediately, and Jeremiah smiled at him before returning to the steps, where Shannon had also sat.
She glistened with sweat, and Jeremiah really liked it. “How was your day?”
“Oh, it was a day,” she said, wiping the back of her hand along her forehead. A weak smile came next, and everything inside him softened.
“Mine too,” he said. “I have this kid I just can’t get through to.” He sighed, his thoughts about Camila turning down a dark road. “I think I’m going to have Kelsie and Sunny take her for a while. See if they can’t find something that will break through the blocks she has.”
“What do they do that you can’t?”
“One, they’re women,” he said. “Some kids respond better to a same-sex person. Two, they do much more with arts and crafts, music, and other play forms of therapy.”
Shannon nodded, and Jeremiah felt like a jerk for unloading his problems on her. “Anyway.” He blew out his breath. “Too many bridezillas in the building today?”
“Probably,” she said slowly. “I was only there until lunch.”
Jeremiah’s surprise rose through the roof. He’d invited Shannon to lunch, and she’d said she couldn’t come. His chest tightened. “Where’d you go after lunch?”
She reached over and took his hand in hers. “I need to talk to you about something.”
The handholding was comforting. She wouldn’t do that if she was planning on breaking up with him. Would she?
“I went to a therapist today too. My old therapist. The one I saw after everything happened with Richard.”
“Okay,” Jeremiah said, unsure where this conversation was going.
“It’s been years since Richard.”
“Five, I think you said.”
“He was abusive in other ways.”
“You’ve told me.” Jeremiah wasn’t sure why he was talking quieter. He was usually the one to press hard topics—on someone else. But he wanted Shannon’s life to be easy, carefree, as wonderful as she was.
Richard had berated her if she wore the wrong shoes to a party. Or if they were late because of traffic. All kinds of little things that brought Shannon a lot of anxiety, even after they’d broken up.
Shannon cleared her throat, and Jeremiah noticed the way Hercules came over from his water bowl to lean against her side. He really was the best dog to be found anywhere.
“I’m nervous about our relationship,” she said. “Because of where it could go.”
Jeremiah’s hand tightened on hers. “You mean, like….” He was used to leaving sentences open for someone to finish.
“Well, relationships only end in one of two ways,” she said. “A breakup or a wedding.”
“Do you want to break up?”
“No.”
Jeremiah heard what she was really saying, and it wasn’t good. In fact, the realization stabbed through him. “But you don’t want to get married either,” he said, and he wasn’t asking.
Shannon glanced at him, and he gave her an equally quick look, focusing back on the grass almost as fast. Grass was safe. Grass didn’t kiss him the way she had last night before their painting date and then tell him she didn’t want to get married the next time they saw one another.
She said nothing, which was almost worse than a confirmation of what he’d said.
“It’s okay,” he said, because what other choice did he have?
“You’re a bad liar.”
“What do you want me to say?”
“I don’t know.”
Jeremiah gently removed his hand from hers, needing some space to think. He tried not to sigh, but he failed, and the hissing sound came out of his mouth. “At least we’re not too far in,” he said. He hadn’t fallen for her completely. Sure, he’d slid down the hill a little, but he could claw his way back up.
This wasn’t a repeat of Elaine. Shannon didn’t have a ring. They hadn’t booked a reception hall. No engagement pictures had been taken.
“Are you breaking up with me?” she asked, her voice pitching near hysteria.
“I don’t want to,” Jeremiah said slowly. “But Shannon, you just told me you don’t want to get married. Where does that leave us? What’s the point—in your head—what’s the point of continuing a relationship that will never make it to the next level?”
“You’re my friend,” she said, her voice small and much too high.
“Come on, sweetheart. You know I want to be more than friends.” Jeremiah stood up, his feelings all over the map. He knew he sounded like a jerk, and probably just like her last boyfriend. He looked out across the yard. “And Shannon, I’m not stupid. I’ve kissed other women. You kiss me like you want to be more than friends too.”
He took a step toward his front door. “So maybe you figure out what you want and let me know.”
“Don’t go,” she said, but Jeremiah had never felt so foolish. Not even when Elaine had left him only three weeks before their wedding.
Maybe it was time to tell Shannon all of that. So, he sat down a healthy distance from her, though he could reach over and hold her hand if he wanted to. “Elaine—remember I told you a little about her?”
“Yes.”
“I said we were engaged, and that I fell apart when she left. She had a dress. We’d sent announcements. People had already bought gifts. Bridal showers had happened. Everything was set for the wedding—the cake, the venue, the flowers.” Jeremiah took a big breath and continued. “She left three weeks before we were supposed to be married. She said that not only did she not want to marry me, but she didn’t want to get married at all.” He looked at Shannon. “Ever.”
Shannon’s eyes were wide, and Jeremiah didn’t think they were all that beautiful in that moment.
“She left the island and lives with a man in New Mexico now. They’re not married, and I don’t think they’ll ever get married.” He wondered if these confessions made him weak in her eyes. He decided he didn’t care. His experiences made him him, and how many times had he told his teenage patients that it was okay to simply be them?
“I knew then that I did want to get married. Have a family. Have that sense of belonging and commitment. It’s important to me.”
“It’s important to me too.”
“But you just said—”
“I’m afraid of being intimate,” she blurted out, and Jeremiah’s eyes locked onto hers.
“Ah.” He nodded, understanding flooding him. He stuck his hands between his knees, knowing he absolutely couldn’t touch her now. It seemed like an hour passed before he finally asked, “Who are you seeing?”
“Naylanie Finlayson.”
“Oh, sure. She’s great.” Jeremiah honestly had no idea what to do, or what else to say. Shannon obviously didn’t either, because she sat on the steps in silence as the day got dimmer and dimmer.
Finally, he said, “Come on, I’ll drive you home.”
There was no kissing good-bye. She looked at him, and said, “I’m working through some things.”
“I know,” he said. “I can be patient.”
She smiled, a beautiful sad smile that made his heart ache. Then she took his dog and went up her front steps and on into her house.
Jeremiah didn’t go home. He couldn’t stand to be alone at the moment, so he drove downtown to the bar and restaurant located inside the Sweet Breeze Resort. The first-floor establishment served great sliders and played sports on the TVs.
Jeremiah needed the noise to keep his mind occupied and the food to quell his hunger.
I can be patient.
And he could. Jeremiah was the epitome of patience. He’d worked with kids for months before they’d even said a word to him. He could wait for Shannon to work through some things. She’d held his hand. Tucked her arm in his. Kissed him.
And wow, when she kissed him….
Jeremiah drank half of his soda to cool himself down. Shannon was already being intimate with him, and she just didn’t know it. Naylanie was a good therapist, and she’d help Shannon figure out what she wanted.
All Jeremiah could do now was hope and pray that what Shannon wanted was…him.
“You’re killing it today,” Brandon said, watching Jeremiah lift weights. “You’ve already had the gala. What’s chasing you?”
Jeremiah grunted, not wanting to get into a personal conversation during his workout. In fact, the harder he pushed himself, the less he had to think about Shannon and how they hadn’t spoken—not even through text—for three days.
She was definitely going to break up with him, and there was nothing Jeremiah could do about it.
He knew a victim’s psyche better than most, and it wasn’t always rational, but it should always be listened to. And if she had doubts, or feelings, or fears, they were real and valid. And he simply needed to give her time.
“So just one more set,” Brandon said. “And then you can get on the treadmill for a while.”
“I’m going hiking,” Jeremiah said, putting the dumbbells down without doing the extra set. He didn’t have to explain anything to Brandon. He’d still get paid, whether Jeremiah walked or ran on the treadmill or if he hiked up to Waipi’o Valley.
He wiped his face with a towel and tossed it in the bin as he went into the locker room. He didn’t really have time to drive all the way out the eastern side of the island that morning, but he wanted to.
His phone chimed, and his stupid heart leapt in anticipation that it might be Shannon. But it was Brandon, who’d said Let’s beach run tomorrow. Six o’clock?
Sure, Jeremiah sent back, though he hated running in loose sand. It felt like he was getting nowhere, and he usually broke a sweat before he’d finished stretching. But whatever. He’d have to concentrate, so he wouldn’t be able to think about Shannon. He went home to shower and get ready for another day of work. He didn’t see Shannon at Roasted, and he wondered if she’d altered her perfect schedule so she wouldn’t have to see him.
At the office, he handed out coffee to his work wives, as they affectionately called themselves, and ignored the bells on the door as they rang, signaling that someone had come in.
“I need you to sign this,” Flo said, and Jeremiah bent down to do it.
“And Sunny wants to see you about Camila,” Tiffany said. “She’s in her office.”
“Great, I’ll take this coffee to her.” Jeremiah picked up the carrier with the coffee for the back-of-the-house employees.
He’d taken two steps when Michelle said in a really loud voice, “Oh, hello, Shannon.”
Jeremiah dropped the coffee as he whipped back around to see the woman who’d been plaguing him for months. The hot liquid splashed out of the to-go cups though they had lids, and everyone exclaimed.
Jeremiah stood there while Flo, Janie, and Michelle sprang into action, opening drawers to find napkins and picking up the fallen cups. Warmth seeped through his pants where the coffee had hit him, but he couldn’t look away from Shannon.
She wore a pair of black slacks and a short-sleeved sweater the color of ripe Granny Smith apple skins.
“Good morning, everyone,” she said as if she were a diplomat and she’d been thrown to the enemy’s wolves. “Doctor Yeates, can I speak with you for a moment?” She turned and walked away before he could answer.
And he couldn’t move. He told himself to get in gear and get over to her side, breathe in that delicious perfume, and try to make everything right with them before she left.
Instead, he just stood there until Flo practically shoved him, the words, “Go on, Doctor. She wants to speak with you,” coming through clenched teeth.