Collide (28 page)

Everyone shouted greetings and only after he
had shaken hands with James, and then Herschel and Travis, did she
glance up at him. He stood beside her, his long legs clad in dark
denim, his wide shoulders clothed with her favorite Henley. His
hair was damp, as if he was just out of the shower and he hadn’t
bothered to shave, so the stubble on his jaw was pronounced.

Immediately her heart took off and her mouth
went dry.

His hand was on the back of her chair, his
expression as fathomless as the dark chocolate eyes that stared
down at her.

Bobbi cleared her throat and attempted a
smile, but she was sure it fell flat. Her facial muscles ached from
all the fake smiles she’d bestowed on everyone today. She wasn’t
happy. Hell, she wasn’t close to happy. She was about as far away
from happy as the earth was from the moon.

“Hey,” she said softly.

He leaned down, his mouth sweeping across her
lips in nothing more than a whisper. “Table looks great,” he said,
before sliding into the chair beside her.

“Nice to see you in clothes, Gallagher.”
Logan grinned and passed the sweet potatoes. He’d told everyone
about Shane showing up on his porch this morning wearing nothing
but leather, boxers, and work boots.

“Hey, I can shed the jeans if you want.”

“Oh my god, that’s so gross,” Eden said as
everyone laughed.

The meal progressed the way all family meals
at the Barker residence did. Several bottles of wine were consumed,
and subsequently, the conversation grew louder as time went on. It
was boisterous and full bodied, just like the Merlot. Eden and
Herschel were having an animated conversation about bees. It seemed
as if the teenager was fascinated by the fact that Herschel kept
hives out back and collected honey.

Bobbi was content to sit and listen, her mind
elsewhere and that elsewhere wasn’t anyplace good. She caught the
dark looks from Shane, the automatic responses he gave to
questions. The smiles. The nods. It was like he was on
auto-pilot.

That crap feeling in her gut was back and it
was all she could do, to push her food around and make like it was
the most amazing meal ever, when in fact it tasted like sawdust.
She caught snatches of conversations, all the while aware that the
man who sat inches away from her, was in fact across a great
divide. It felt as if he was sitting on the other side of the
world. Other than his initial greeting, Shane hadn’t said anything
to her.

As the minutes flew by her anxiety grew. She
wanted to get away. She wanted to get away with Shane and finally
get everything out in the open.

She didn’t care about the conversations.

Her father asking Billie about the New York
Rangers and their chances at Lord Stanley.

James and Herschel chatting about the
waterfront and all the construction that seemed to be popping up
along it. A damn shame, according to Herschel, while James just
shrugged and said the influx of money into the community was a good
thing.

Again, Eden with the bees.

Billie and hockey.

Betty and Matt Hawkins.

Logan and Shane discussing a new custom bike
that had just been ordered from some bigwig in LA. It all blurred
into mush and Bobbi threw her napkin down on the table, her chest
tight and her breathing irregular.

“Are you okay?” Shane asked, his voice low as
he turned to her.

“Am I okay?” she asked incredulously. “That’s
all you’ve got? You’ve been sitting beside me for over an hour and
that’s all you’ve got.” She shook her head and muttered. “Am I
okay.”

She grabbed her wine glass, fingers gripped
tight, and knuckles white from the pressure.

“Are you sure you should be drinking
that?”

Wait. What? Bobbi glared at Shane, suddenly,
infuriatingly, pissed off at him. “Since when do you care whether
or not I drink wine?”

Shane’s face darkened and he leaned so close
she could count every single eyelash, every single goddamn one. “Do
you want to get into this right now?”

“Get into what?” Her heart was pounding so
hard she was sure every person at the table could hear her.

“Put the glass down, Bobbi.”

He reached over to take it from her but she
snatched it away. “What the hell is wrong with you, Shane?”

He stared at her for so long that her insides
went hot and then achingly cold. Something shifted in his eyes.
Something she hadn’t seen in a very long time. Something that made
her sick to her stomach.

“Shane,” she whispered, “what the hell is
going on?” She took a sip of wine, not really a conscious move, but
more or less because the glass was in her hand and she needed to do
something.

“You’re unbelievable.”

What
?

“Who ordered a bike?”

Betty’s voice cut through the din and Bobbi
glanced at her sister, noticing for the first time that she was as
pale as the ivory linens covering the table.

“Who did you say ordered a bike from you?”
Betty’s eyes were trained onto Logan and if it was possible she was
even whiter than she had been a few seconds earlier.

“Beau Simon.”

“The actor, director guy?” Eden asked
incredulously? “The one who was married to Jess Hartley?”

“Yes,” Logan answered with a smile. “That’s
the one.”

“Is he,” Eden was literally bouncing up and
down in her seat. “Is he going to come here, you know to see the
bike? Like would he do that?”

Logan shook his head. “I doubt it. I’ve
already met with him. Once the bike is done we’ll ship it out to
California.”

“Oh my god! He’s so hot! I’ve seen Blind
Justice like, twenty-five times.”!”

Conversations erupted once more, filling
Bobbi’s ears and filling her head. Yet she couldn’t look away from
Betty. Her sister’s eyes were vacant and she stared at the dinner
table as if the most important thing in the world were the white
china plates with little pink roses bordering the edge.

Betty looked as if she’d seen a ghost. She
looked as if her very soul had been sucked dry and with Bobbi’s own
ghosts circling hard it became too much.

Bobbi pushed her chair back. She couldn’t
breathe.

If I can just get outside for some
air
.

She grabbed her wine glass. “Excuse me guys,
I’ve got to ah, check on dessert.”

“Not with that,” Shane said pointedly, his
hand on her arm, his dark eyes glaring at her.

“What the hell is your problem?” she said
under her breath.

“My problem?”

Slowly he rose until she had to crank her
neck to see him properly. Shane’s hand was still on her arm and she
grimaced as he squeezed her so tightly that pain radiated up to her
elbow.

“Put the wine glass down.”

She thrust her chin out and thumped him on
the chest with her free hand. “No.”

“Hey, guys, what’s going on?”

“Shut up, Billie,” she said roughly.

Everyone was staring, even Betty, who though
pale, was at least back in the land of the living.

“Take your hand off me,” Bobbi said
carefully. “Or else.”

“Or else what?” Shane shook his head. “You
won’t win this, Bobbi. Put the fucking glass down.”

She smiled sweetly. “It’s kind of hard to do
that when you’ve got my hand held in a vise.”

He let go.

“Thank you.”

A heartbeat went by.

And then she tossed the glass into his face,
watching the red liquid roll down his cheeks like blood tears.

Everyone went quiet, even Gramps, who’d been
mumbling ‘twins,’ over and over and ‘tsk, tsk, tsk’, as soon as
Bobbi had risen from her chair. Of course Gramps had moved his
chair back because he was a smart man.

Suddenly Bobbi couldn’t keep anything inside.
It was all going to spill out and she was helpless to stop it. What
had happened between yesterday and today? Did it matter? Did
anything matter except the pain and guilt and love that she felt
for this man?

“What the hell is going on, Shane?”

His features shifted slightly as he calmly
grabbed a napkin and wiped his face. For a moment there was no
sound and Bobbi was painfully aware that every single eye in the
room was on them.

“I told you not to start this. Not here. Not
now.”

“I don’t care,” Bobbi retorted.

“Bobbi, maybe you should—”

She turned to her sister and nailed Billie
with a look that promised physical retribution unless she shut the
hell up.

“Why are you so…”

But she didn’t get the chance to finish her
sentence because Shane reached into his pocket and threw something
onto the table.

Angry
?

She stared down at the table. At the blue
package sitting between the mashed potatoes and what was left of
the ham. At the blue package with the bright white words, First
Alert. Was it possible for white to glow?

“Are you going to explain that?” he said
calmly, though his posture and his eyes were anything but.

She was silent because there was no way in
hell she could get the words inside her head out.

“No?” Shane said harshly.

“Don’t,” she managed to say, before lifting
her eyes to his. “Not here. Not now.”

“I warned you with those exact words a few
minutes ago and you didn’t listen.”

But hurt shadowed his eyes. Hurt and
mistrust.
Mistrust
.

“Shane,” Logan said rising to his feet.

“Stay out of this, Forest.”

Bobbi glanced around the table and swallowed
hard. How the hell had Easter dinner come to this?

“Were you ever going to tell me?” Bitterness
rang in the air and she sucked in a painful breath. She knew where
he was going. “Or were you going to say to hell with it, just like
the last time? Is it even mine? Or is it a little present left
behind by Dooley?”

Bobbi’s cheeks burned and she twisted her
hands, biting the inside of her cheek so hard that she tasted
blood.

“Oh, Shane.” Tears slipped from her eyes and
the knot that had been in her throat for the last few minutes
melted away. It broke her heart to see what he was feeling. To see
his pain and obvious anger at those long ago events, and he didn’t
even know the half of it.

It broke her heart to know his true
feelings.

“That’s enough, Shane.” Billie stood and
pushed him aside until she stood in front of her sister. Billie
gave Bobbi a hug and exhaled before turning to the two men.

“The pregnancy test doesn’t isn’t Bobbi’s.
It’s mine.”

Shocked silence followed Billie’s
announcement and then Logan took a step forward, his hand on
Billie’s cheek as he glanced behind her, his eyes on the
package.

“I was going to tell you tonight, Logan, I
swear but now…well, I guess Shane beat me to it. We’re going to
have a baby.”

“A baby,” Logan repeated.

“A baby. In about eight months.” She cleared
her throat and glared at Shane. “A baby and just in case you’re
wondering, no, it’s not a little present left behind by
Dooley.”

“Our baby,” Logan said.

“Our baby,” Billie answered softly, a
tremulous smile on her face. “I hope you’re okay with this
because—”

Logan scooped Billie up into an embrace
worthy of a Hollywood movie, gathering her close to him as he
turned away from the watching crowd and slowly carried her out the
door.

Herschel cleared his throat and patted Travis
on the shoulder. “Well look at that, Son. Seems like you’re going
to be a grandfather.”

Travis shook his head wearily and sank back
into his chair. “I’ll be goddamned.”

“Yep,” Herschel smiled and winked at
everyone. “Okay, twins. Is there anymore drama or are we good?”

Shane stood to the side, hands shoved into
the front of his pockets, shoulders hunched forward, his dark eyes
on her, his expression unreadable.

Don’t go. Oh, God, please don’t
go
.

“I think I should go. I’m sorry for ruining
everyone’s dinner.”

Bobbi watched him leave and sank into her
chair, seeing nothing but those damn roses on her plate.

“Alright,” Herschel said gruffly. “Who’s
ready for dessert?”

It was close to three in the morning when his
father found him. Barefoot, dressed in jeans and nothing else, he
was in front of his easel, when the door to his workshop slammed
shut.

For that one moment—one heart stopping
moment—he thought it was Bobbi and he glanced up, eager to see her
face, inhale her scent and make the world right.

The space was drenched in shadows and when
his father stepped into the circle of light where Shane stood, his
disappointment was obvious.

“I’m guessing, I’m not who you were
expecting?”

“Don’t take it personally.”

James Gallagher attempted a smile. “I
won’t.”

Shane wiped his hands and stretched, the
muscles across his shoulders were killing him and his legs were
stiff. He’d been standing in front of the easel for hours, not
really doing much, spending most of that time thinking.

Planning on what to do and what to say and
how to fix something that was obviously broken.

He moved toward his father and paused a few
feet away, not really knowing what to say to him. He’d met with
James Gallagher a few times over the last few weeks. Lunch had been
first—in the city at Twisted Lemon—The Grill wasn’t exactly his
father’s style.

Shane wasn’t sure what he’d expected, but he
had been blown away when in fact, all his father was interested in
was lunch.

The two of them had kept things on the safe
side. They’d discussed things that didn’t matter. Hockey. Baseball.
They’d even discussed the weather. He’d left their lunch, not
feeling as if he knew his father any better, but thinking that
maybe the man wasn’t as much of a bastard as he had thought.

“So I was in the neighborhood…” James said
slowly, a hint of a grin toying with his mouth.