“Hey, Reese!” Shane holds up a hand in greeting. “Glad you could make it.”
I finger the snowflake necklace around my throat as Shane saunters over to Tim. Shane is making an effort because he knows Tim is important to me, and I appreciate that. The two of them start talking, and it looks friendly enough. I can’t hear what they’re saying—Shane is speaking quietly and Tim is responding in an equally hushed tone. I strain to hear them over the sound of Chelsea and Kayla chatting a few feet away from me, but it’s no use. They’re talking too quietly.
But it doesn’t matter what they’re saying. They’re not fighting, and that’s all that’s important.
I consider going over to join them, but before I can contemplate it further, the door to the kitchen swings open with a loud creak. Brandon bursts into the room, carrying two pizza boxes balanced in one hand and a bottle of vodka in the other.
“Ready to have some fun?” he calls out.
Shane jerks up his head at the sound of Brandon’s voice. He backs away from Tim as if I’ve caught him doing something illicit, and he makes a beeline for the pizza and vodka. Whatever conversation the two of them were having is apparently over.
Chapter 10
PRESENT DAY
I finish suturing up the rest of Shane’s laceration in silence. He doesn’t ask me any other questions, and I’m grateful. I should never have told him anything about my life. That was a mistake. It just threw me off to see him again. It’s like everything came rushing back. The good stuff over the course of our relationship, and then the bad stuff at the very end.
“All set.” I tie off the last suture and dab at his forehead to clean off the blood. “Good as new.”
“Yeah…”
“You need anything for pain?”
He makes a face. “No, thanks. If I ask for pain medication, I’m just going to get labeled as drug-seeking.”
He’s right. Every time an inmate asks for pain medication, alarm bells go off in the back of my head. After all, the last NP who worked here got busted for selling narcotics. Still, Shane has a significant laceration on his head that I stitched up with no anesthesia. It wouldn’t be terrible for him to ask for pain medication. But it’s his choice.
“Anyway,” I say, “I’ll get Officer Hunt to—”
“Wait!” Shane’s voice is hushed but urgent. “Wait, Brooke. Listen, I need to say something.”
My eyes fly in the direction of the door. Hunt is waiting on the other side, in case I need him. “Shane, I can’t—”
“No. No. Please just listen to me, okay?”
I shake my head. “I can’t. This isn’t a good idea.”
“I just need you to know…”—his voice suddenly sounds hoarse—“I wasn’t the one who tried to kill you, Brooke. I swear to you. I swear on my life.”
I take a step back from the table. “I was there. I know it was you.”
“You don’t know that.” He grits his teeth. “I didn’t do anything. That asshole Reese knocked me out with a baseball bat, and then the next thing I knew, the police were shaking me awake and telling me I was under arrest.”
“Shane,” I hiss. “Stop this right now.”
“I would never have hurt you, Brooke.” His eyes are wide and earnest, and he looks so much like the seventeen-year-old boy I fell in love with. “I’ve been wanting to say that to you for the last ten years. You have to believe me. I would never have done something like that. I couldn’t. I loved you.”
My right hand balls into a fist. How dare he? How dare he lie to my face that way? “Do you think I’m a complete idiot?” I say in a voice just low enough that Hunt won’t hear.