Into the Storm (Signal Bend #3)(73)

Unsuccessful, but feeling slightly more human, he went back to bed and slept until the sun beamed across the pillows. Then he dressed and went out in search of coffee.

The clubhouse was empty—still, or again, he wasn’t sure. He’d been unconscious by the evening. He went to the coffeemaker behind the bar and started a pot. As soon as it began trickling out, he moved the carafe and pushed his mug under the stream. The hot, strong, black Colombian cleared his head, and he picked up the brooding he’d abandoned yesterday in favor of a full-on, whiskey-fueled drunk.

He looked across the room at the chess set. He and Isaac had been on the same game for weeks now, but he could see that Isaac had made his next move. Show walked over and studied the board, glad for something else to think about besides Shannon.

“Hey, brother.” Isaac was strolling across the Hall, apparently coming from the office.

“Hey.” Show took another swig of coffee.

“Surprised to see you. You didn’t stay with Shannon?”

“No.” Show nodded at the board. “You’re after the bishop.” He picked up the piece in question and moved it. “Back to you.” He looked up.

Isaac’s look was watchful. “I just moved twenty minutes ago. In all our years at this, I don’t think you’ve ever followed me so fast. You usually think more.”

Show shrugged. Since the accident, his shrugs tended to list to one side.

“What’s up, Show? Something on your mind?”

He shook his head. Yeah, something was on his mind. He didn’t want to talk, though. Talking would loosen the hold on his anger, and if he let that out, he wouldn’t be able to think anything through. He needed to keep a lid on it and make himself think. But damn, he didn’t want to. It hurt too f*cking much.

He didn’t want to talk to Isaac. That’s not how they worked. Isaac talked to him. Isaac was the hothead.

Show gave him advice, not the other way around. Consigliere—that was his job.

But that wasn’t entirely true, not any longer. Not since Daisy. Isaac had been strong support for him during his year of numbness. Isaac and Lilli. Turned out, Isaac had it more together than Show ever had.

“Yeah, there is. I need to work through some shit. Wouldn’t mind an ear.”

“You got mine, brother.” Isaac put his arm across Show’s shoulders, and they walked to the bar. Isaac went back and poured himself a cup of coffee. He, too, took it black.

When Isaac sat down next to him, Show said, “I know why Shannon won’t have anything to do with Gia.”

Isaac turned, his eyebrows up. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” And Show told him everything he’d learned the day before. Almost everything. He left some details out. But the shit that had him so twisted up, he told. Isaac was quiet, staring into his mug, while Show spoke. When he’d told it all, they both sat there quietly for a spell.

“Well, I knew there was something. So did you. What are you going to do?”

Show laughed. “I knew that, I wouldn’t’ve needed to talk. I’m so f*cking pissed I can’t think. She was gonna run. Fuck, she might’ve run the minute after I left. For all I know, she’s on her way to f*cking Canada or somewhere right now. I guess that’s what she does—runs.”

“You love her, though?”

“You know I do. She’s my f*cking old lady.”

“You haven’t put ink on her.”

Show laughed. “No. Never even brought it up. Her skin—it’s so f*cking smooth and perfect. Not a blemish, a mole, a birthmark, a scar. Nowhere. Can’t bring myself to mark her. Guess I should’ve.” He laughed again, feeling its sharpness in his throat. “Or maybe not.”

“There’s a lot in her story to get stuck on. Where are you?”

Show thought about that. His first answer would have been that he was stuck on all of it, but he realized that wasn’t true. Saying it all out loud to Isaac had calmed his head a great deal. Talking hadn’t loosened his hold on his anger, it had loosened his anger’s hold on him. He found he could sort out the truths and emotions that had been rioting through his mind. He understood where his real worry lay. What he could forgive, of Shannon and of himself. What he could live with, and what he could not.

“I get giving her baby up. Fuck, I even get lying about the dad, after he hit her. Asshole hits a pregnant woman doesn’t deserve to be a father. I can’t know what it’s like to be where she was. Don’t hold any of that against her. But she runs. I can’t—I don’t know how to live a life waiting for her to bolt if shit gets bad.

Shit gets bad around here. It’s okay now, but you and I know it won’t always be. What’s gonna be the thing she can’t take? I can’t live like that. I’m tired of loss. I’m f*cking tired of it.”

He couldn’t say out loud the doubts and guilt he had about Daisy. But he knew Isaac knew.

Isaac put his hand on Show’s shoulder and squeezed. “Can I make an observation?”

Show shrugged.

“She lived in Tulsa twenty years, right? You think she had twenty years of smooth seas? Does anybody ever have that?”

Show didn’t understand. “What’s your point?”

“Maybe she runs from this. Maybe she’s not a runner. Maybe it’s this one thing. And if her daughter’s in town, seems like her days of running from her are at an end—close to it, anyway. Secret’s out. You know, after the fight you just told me about, and with her doppelganger in town, her secret is all the way out. She’s got to deal. Don’t see how she avoids that now.” Isaac jerked, as if he’d been struck by a powerful thought.