Chapter 12
TWELVE
With Kevin off to bed, the kitchen fell quiet again. April turned back to the sink, but there were no more dishes. She dried her hands on a towel, movements careful and deliberate. “Funny, he was a little kid just last night when I tucked him in.”
“Time flies,” Shane joked.
"That it does.” She set the towel out to dry on the counter. “Also, that was sweet of you," she said. “The hug.”
"Kid's easy to love."
April’s eyes widened for a moment, then she nodded and moved to the coffee maker. "Want some? Or I have tea. Or—God, I sound like I'm stalling, don't I?"
Shane smiled. "Little bit. But I'll take coffee if you're making some."
"I'm always making some." She opened a cupboard and took down one of Riversong’s roasts. “You’re in the hands of a professional.” She shook the bag at him before pouring coffee beans into a grinder. Shane fought the impulse to ask about the state of the espresso machine. He didn’t want to stress her out when she was already nervous.
Coffee brewed and poured into handmade mugs, they migrated to the living room. April curled into one corner of the couch, tucking her feet under her. Shane sat on the other end, angled toward her, one arm draped across the back. They sat close enough to talk quietly, far enough to be respectable.
For now.
Down, boy. You don’t want to take advantage of her, and Kevin’s just down the hall.
"So," April said, hands wrapped around her mug. "What's the verdict? Am I safe from my ex-husband for the foreseeable future?"
Shane appreciated that she could just ask it straight. "Flint's got him on full monitoring. Vince is still in Vegas. He checked in with his parole officer yesterday, like clockwork. Working that dishwasher job, going to his apartment, not making waves."
"That's good." April's shoulders relaxed a fraction. "I mean, I figured. But you know how it is. I feel like since we’re watching him, he’s suddenly going to find me. It’s irrational.”
Shane grinned. “It’s not like you to be irrational, unless you’re talking irrational numbers.”
“Ha! You still remember some math I taught you, huh?”
“Despite my best efforts to forget.”
“Ah.” Some of the glow went out of her eyes. It took Shane a moment to speculate why.
Does she think I tried to forget her? “April—”
If he'd found me, he wouldn't be subtle about it."
"You knew him pretty well."
"I thought I did." She took a sip of coffee, eyes distant. "Turns out I didn't know him at all. Just the version he wanted me to see."
Shane's jaw tightened. "If he ever does show up here—"
"I know. You'll handle it." April looked at him then, really looked at him. "You've gotten good at that. Handling things."
"It's my job."
She shifted and looked deep into her coffee mug. "Is that all this is? A job?"
The question hung between them, weighed down by their history.
"No," Shane said quietly. "You know it's not."
April's fingers tightened around her mug. "Shane—"
"Remember that night after I failed the calc test?" he said suddenly, shifting gears before the conversation went somewhere they weren't ready for. "You made me redo every problem while you sat there eating those terrible gas station nachos. With ranch."
Her laugh surprised them both. "Those were not terrible. They were a delicacy."
"The cheese was radioactive-orange and came from a machine that probably hadn't been cleaned since the Reagan administration."
"You're just mad because I wouldn't share."
"I wasn't going to eat those things. I had standards." Shane grinned.
"Hey, when you're living on a tight budget, you learn to appreciate the finer things. Like questionable gas station cheese sauce." April kicked his thigh lightly with her socked foot.
Shane caught her foot before she could pull it back. He pressed his thumb gently against her arch. April's breath hitched.
"I missed this," he said. "Just... talking to you. Being near you."
"Me too," she whispered.
They sat like that for a moment, Shane massaging her arch, the house quiet around them except for the distant sound of Kevin reading out loud to Pete and the crickets outside singing their springtime song.
"How's the espresso machine holding up?" Shane asked, because he needed to say something that wasn't I want to kiss you or I never stopped thinking about you or any of the other desperately true things crowding his throat.
April's expression flickered—something careful sliding into place. "It's fine. Just temperamental."
"April."
"What?"
"You're a terrible liar. Always have been." Shane leaned forward slightly. "What's really going on with it?"
She sighed, setting her mug on a side table. "It's dying. Like, really dying. We can probably limp it through another month, maybe two if we're lucky and sacrifice the right combination of kitchen appliances to the appliance gods."
"And then?"
"And then I refinance my house against my father’s wishes to replace it and hope nothing else breaks for the next six months." She said it matter-of-factly, not even the ghost of self-pity in her voice. "We'll make it work. We always do."
Shane felt the old rage uncurl in the pit of his stomach. Damn his father. He wanted to offer to buy her a new machine right there. Wanted to fix it, solve it, throw money at the problem until it went away.
Not to mention pummeling my old man.
But he knew April well enough to know that offering her money would be the fastest way to shut her down completely.
"Can I take a look at it?" he asked instead. "I'm pretty handy with machines. Might be able to buy you some more time."
April snorted. "No way. You’d have to fight my father first. That thing’s his baby and he doesn’t want anyone touching his baby.
” Her eyes went straight to her foot still resting in Shane’s hand and her cheeks turned bright red.
“Um, besides, if you electrocuted yourself, I'm not telling Kyle that his best guy got taken out by an oversized coffee maker. "
Shane smiled. Another thing that never changed about April—she’d always been quick to make a joke to deflect. "So how was the party?"
April groaned and covered her face with her hands. "Wren is the worst. I love her, but she's relentless."
“About what?”
April peeked at him between her fingers. “Rochelle told everyone that we were on a date at lunch.”
"She's not wrong."
April dropped her hands. "About what?"
"About it being a date. Kinda felt like one to me. Just like tonight." He stroked her foot.
"Shane Foti, are you saying we’re on date number two and you didn't even ask me first?"
"Hey, you invited me to lunch first." He was grinning now, couldn't help it. "I just brought pizza, that’s all. And…date number two, did you say? Is that an admission that lunch was date number one?"
"Oh my God." But she was smiling too, that real smile that made her whole face light up. "You're impossible."
"I prefer 'determined.'"
April shook her head, but the smile didn't fade. "Claudia was there today."
Shane went still. His mom’s friend? "Bear's mom? How'd that go?" He dreaded the answer.
"Better than I expected, actually." April pulled her feet back, tucking them under her again. "She pulled me aside. Told me some things."
"Like what?"
April met his eyes as her expression turned serious. "Like how you've been trying to get your mom to leave your dad. How you told her you won't introduce her to any future grandchildren unless she changes her attitude." She paused.
Shane's jaw tightened. "I didn't know she was telling people that."
"Shane." April's voice went soft. "She said you're standing up to your parents. Because of me."
"Because it's the right thing to do. Because my father is—" He stopped, jaw working. "Because they don't get to control my life anymore. And they sure as hell don't get to disrespect you. Never again."
April was quiet for a long moment. Shane noticed that Kevin was no longer reading. He was probably fast asleep. Then April said, "There's something else I need to tell you.”
“Yeah?”
“When I came home from Vegas, Riversong’s bookkeeping was a mess. God love my parents—math is not their strong suit.”
“Which is why my father was able to take advantage of them with the terms of the loan.” Shane couldn’t help himself.
April smiled wryly. “Be that as it may, I figured something out when I took over the bookkeeping for Riversong."
Shane's stomach dropped. He knew where this was going.
"While I was in Vegas, I sent money home. Always from a different location because I was afraid they’d talk me into coming home.”
“And you couldn’t risk it because of my father’s threats.”
April ducked her head. “Yes. And, well, I won’t sugarcoat it—I didn’t want my folks to know where I was because I was ashamed of how I made my money.”
“That’s my fault. You should have been at some start-up in California and a multimillionaire by now.”
April held up her hand. “Don’t even.” Her sardonic smile returned. “Besides, compared to what tech bros do these days, counting cards in Vegas is way more honest work.”
Shane chuckled. “True.”
“It became apparent to me that my parents were actually ahead of where I expected them to be financially. I went back over those old records and I found something very interesting,” April continued, watching his face.
“Someone else had been sending them money, for years.
My parents thought it was all from me. But it wasn't, was it? "
Heat crawled up Shane’s neck. He let go of her foot. "No. April—"
"It was you." She wasn't asking.
Shane sighed. "My father—what he did—threatening you, holding that loan over your family's head—" His hands curled into fists on his thighs. "I couldn't fix it all. Couldn't make him change the terms or drop that bullshit early payment penalty. But I could still do something. So I did."
"Shane." April's voice broke slightly. "Do you know how much money that was? How many years—"