Chapter 14 #2
"Come on," she said, tugging him forward. "Kevin's getting ahead of us again."
She didn't let go of his hand right away, and Shane counted that as a victory.
As they climbed, the trail narrowed, twisting through a boulder field where the sun hit hard and the air shimmered. Shane ran his hand along the nearest slab of sandstone. “Touch both sides,” he told Kevin.
Kevin obeyed, palms flat on the rock. “This side’s warm. That one’s cool.”
“Exactly. South side keeps the heat. North side stays shaded. The rock remembers the sun longer than we do.”
April brushed her fingers across the same surface, eyes thoughtful. "You make it sound poetic."
Shane smiled. "Guess geology's got a romantic streak."
April held his gaze for a beat too long, something playful dancing in her expression. "Since when did Shane Foti get poetic?"
Shane stepped closer, voice dropping low enough that only she could hear. "Since I started trying to impress you again."
Her breath caught. "Is it working?"
"You tell me." He was close enough now to see the pulse jumping in her throat, close enough that if Kevin wasn't twenty feet away, Shane would've kissed her right there against the sun-warmed stone.
"Maybe." April's voice came out slightly breathless. "A little."
"Just a little?" Shane raised an eyebrow.
"Don't push your luck, Foti."
"Shane! Mom! Look at this!" Kevin's voice carried across the clearing, shattering the moment.
April stepped back, but not before Shane saw the smile she was trying to hide. The one that said he was definitely making progress.
They moved higher, where a light breeze funneled through the canyon. Shane lifted a finger to test the air. “Moisture’s dropping. Wind’s steady. Perfect conditions.”
Kevin copied him, grinning. “I can’t tell a thing.”
“You will,” Shane said. “Takes practice. Easiest way to start is listen.”
They crossed a clearing. The sun dipped behind the ponderosas, and the air cooled instantly. The forest went still—birds gone quiet, the hum of insects fading.
Kevin noticed first. “It got quiet.”
Shane nodded. “When the woods hold their breath, something’s shifting. Sometimes it’s a hawk. Sometimes it’s weather. Sometimes—” he gave a small shrug “—it’s just the world listening back.”
He didn’t say what memory came with that silence: the heavy quiet after gunfire stopped, the smell of cordite and seawater, the body on the deck that used to be Sean.
For a moment, Shane could see it so clearly: water streaming off his gear; Charlie trying her best to revive him; the rescue boat speeding down the river with the SEAL team they’d pulled out.
Camo standing guard beside Sean’s body, refusing to move. That dog had set off a chain of events that brought him to today.
The ache rose sharp and sudden, but Shane breathed through it, the way he always did.
Except this time, he wasn't alone with it.
April touched his arm—gentle, grounding. Shane looked down at her fingers resting against his sleeve, then up at her face. She was watching him with those eyes that had always seen through his armor to the mess underneath.
"You okay?" she asked softly.
No.
Yes.
I don't know anymore.
"Yeah." His voice came out ragged. "Just... remembering."
April didn't ask what. Didn't push. She just stood there with her hand on his arm, warm and steady and real, pulling him back from the dark place his mind wanted to go.
Shane covered her hand with his own, threading their fingers together for a moment. "Thank you."
"For what?"
"For not making me explain."
Understanding flickered across her face. "You don't have to explain everything, Shane. Not to me."
She sees me. Not the golden boy.
And she accepts me, scars and all.
He squeezed her hand once, grateful for her in ways he couldn’t express in words.
Kevin's voice called out from up ahead, telling them to catch up.
April squeezed back, then slowly let go. But the comfort of that touch stayed with Shane, warming him from the inside out as they continued up the trail.
The boy didn’t notice the change in the adults. He was too busy trying to find another perfect skipping stone.
“Shane,” Kevin called. “How many times can you get one to skip?”
“Depends on the throw,” Shane said, voice steady again. “And the water. Flat and calm’s your best bet.”
Kevin wound up and flung a stone into the woods.
Shane grinned. “Good arm.”
Kevin looked back, pleased. “You think so?”
“I know so.”
The kid’s smile widened, and Shane felt something unclench in his chest. He wasn’t a father, wasn’t even sure what he was supposed to be to this boy—but maybe this was enough. Teaching him how to listen. How to see. How to find direction when the sky went stormy.
The forest quieted then, as if on cue. Even the birds went still.
Kevin’s head snapped up. “Why’d everything stop?”
Shane lowered his voice. “When the woods hold their breath like that, it means change. Could have been the stone you threw. Could be a hawk overhead. Could be weather shifting. Always pay attention to silence—it tells you things noise can’t.”
April tilted her head, listening, too.
After a moment, the birds resumed their chatter, and the tension eased. “Guess it’s clear for now,” she said.
“Guess so.” Shane reached to squeeze her hand lightly before letting go.
They reached a clearing where the trail widened into a ledge above the canyon. Sunlight poured through the gap, turning the red stone gold.
Shane reached for April's hand, lacing their fingers together. Not a quick squeeze this time but something more deliberate. More permanent.
April's breath caught as his thumb stroked across her knuckles—slow, deliberate, intimate. The touch conveyed everything they couldn't say out loud with Kevin ten feet ahead of them.
I'm here.
I'm not leaving.
Give me a chance and I'll spend the rest of my life proving you can trust me.
April's fingers tightened around his, answering in the same silent language.
I'm scared.
But I want this.
I want you.
They stood like that for a long moment, hands clasped, the canyon spreading out below them in shades of gold and rust. The clouds moved overhead, casting shadows that danced across the cliffs. Pete’s bark and Kevin's laugh echoed off the stone walls.
Finally, reluctantly, Shane let go. But the phantom warmth of her hand in his stayed with him, a promise of what was coming.
“Hey, Kevin, c’mere. You hear that?” He pointed toward the mountains where thunder rolled, faint and far away.
Kevin tilted his head. “The storm’s coming?”
“Eventually. Count the seconds between flash and sound—divide by five. That’s your distance in miles. Works for weather or artillery.” He caught himself, softened his tone. “Or, you know, fireworks.”
Kevin counted on his fingers, face scrunching with focus. “About twenty-five miles?”
“Not bad,” Shane said. “We’ll keep an eye on the clouds and the wind but we should have time for a snack break before we head back.” Shane dropped his pack and pulled out a blanket and the thermos and container of scones Sonny had packed for them.
“Mission refuel,” he said.
Kevin cheered. Pete flopped down immediately, tail thumping.
They sat together, passing around scones, steam curling from the hot chocolate. April leaned back on her hands, her face glowing. Shane handed her a bottle of water. “Gotta stay hydrated.”
“You really think of everything.”
“Occupational hazard,” Shane said, taking out a bottle for himself. “Preparedness beats panic any day.”
Kevin took a sip of hot chocolate. “Best ever.”
“It’s your Grandpapa’s secret recipe,” April said. “Even I don’t know what all’s in it.”
Shane stretched his legs, looking out over the canyon where the creek flashed silver far below. “He’s a good man,” he said quietly. “You take after him.”
April’s gaze met his, tender and wary all at once. “You think so?”
“I know so.”
For a while, they sat in easy silence. The clouds drifted slower now, their shadows sliding across the cliffs. Kevin finished his scone and hot chocolate, curled up beside Pete, and within minutes both were asleep—boy and dog tangled together, the picture of trust.
Shane felt the quiet settle deep. The kind that reminded him of waiting on a calm sea before the next mission. Not empty but full—of memories, of possibilities.
Kevin and Pete had been asleep for maybe ten minutes, curled together in that boneless way kids and dogs managed so easily. The canyon was quiet except for the distant rush of water and the lazy hum of insects in the afternoon heat.
April shifted closer to Shane on the blanket, close enough that their shoulders touched. She leaned her head against his shoulder with a small sigh—tired and content and trusting in a way that made Shane's throat tight.
His arm came around her automatically, pulling her closer. She fit against his side like she'd been designed for that exact spot, her weight warm and solid and real.
They sat like that, watching the clouds build and shift, the shadows moving across the canyon floor far below. Shane could feel the steady rise and fall of April's breathing, could smell the faint scent of her lilac shampoo mixing with sun-warmed skin and sweet ponderosa pine.
This was what he'd been missing. Not just April, though God knew he'd missed her every day since he was eighteen. But this—the quiet intimacy of just being. No performance, no pretense. Just two people who'd found their way back to each other, sitting together while the world turned around them.
"Shane?" April's voice was soft, careful.
"Yeah?"
"When you ask me again..." She paused, and Shane felt his heart kick against his ribs. "I think you’ll like my answer."
He turned his head, looking down at her. "You think so, huh?"
She met his look with a sexy smile that heated him through and through. “Maybe I know so.”
Shane pressed a kiss to her temple—tender and promising, not the desperate heat of the porch kiss but something deeper. Something that said I'll take care of this. I'll take care of you. I'll take care of us.
Our family.
April's hand came up to rest against his chest, palm flat over his heart. He wondered if she could feel how hard it was beating, if she knew what this moment meant to him.
"Ask me anyway," she whispered. "I want to hear you say it."
Shane's arm tightened around her. "Okay."
They stayed like that a moment longer, savoring the quiet, the certainty, the weight of the question he was about to ask and the answer she'd already given. Thunder rumbled far off, deep and patient, rolling through the canyon like an echo from another life. Shane looked out over the sandstone cliffs, the sun catching the clouds just right, and knew he’d remember this moment all his life: the smell of rain on warm rock, the sound of the river far below, the woman beside him.
Then Kevin stirred, and they eased apart—but not before sharing one more look that said everything they needed to say.
Soon.
Yes.
Finally.
“Shane…” Her voice was barely above a whisper.
He caught her hand, held it gently. “I can wait,” he said. “But not forever.”
She smiled then—small, certain. “You won’t have to.”
Shane's breath left him in a rush. He cupped her face in his hands, thumbs stroking her cheekbones the way he had on the porch last night. But instead of kissing her mouth, he pulled her close and pressed his lips to her forehead again—soft, reverent, sealing a promise.
Everything. It meant everything.
"We should probably head back soon," April murmured against his shoulder, but she didn't move.
"Probably." Shane didn't move either.
Kevin made a small sound in his sleep, shifting closer to Pete. The dog's tail thumped once against the blanket.
April smiled against Shane's shirt. "We're going to have to be careful around him. At least until we figure out how to tell him."
"Tell him what?" Shane asked. "That his mom's bodyguard is hopelessly in love with her?"
April pulled back just enough to look up at him, eyes bright. "Is that what you are?"
"Your bodyguard? Of course I am. Kevin retained me.”
April tried not to laugh even as she narrowed her eyes at him.
“Or do you mean hopelessly in love?" Shane's mouth curved. "Yeah, Sweetness. That's exactly what I am."
This time when she kissed him, it was soft and sweet and full of promises of her own. Kevin stirred again, and they broke apart, both grinning like they had as teenagers who'd just gotten away with making out.
"Come on," Shane said, reluctantly standing and offering her his hand. "Let's get you two home before that storm decides to show up early."
April took his hand and let him pull her to her feet. Neither let go right away, even though Kevin was sitting up and rubbing his eyes.