Page 16 of His to Cherish
I was a woman who used to work in a museum basement, dusting artifacts, before I realized that if I couldn’t have kids of my own, I wanted to work with them—be around them in some way.
Suddenly, a sob escaped Shane as if it had been ripped from his throat by a demonic force. It was the most tortured sound I’d ever heard in my life. His head fell to my shoulder, his body shaking forcefully against me.
“He didn’t want to go that day.”
Oh God. My arms wrapped around the teenage boy. I held him and stayed silent. I didn’t bother shushing him. There was rarely anyone in the library during lunch period, and the kids who were there had the grace to leave as soon as Shane started bawling.
Damn it. Some of these kids I worked with were so freaking amazing.
I smiled at them over Shane’s shoulder, silently thanking the girls for giving us privacy.
“He wanted to play football, but I convinced him to go for a ride to the park.” His words were choked out through sobs and tears. I could barely form the sentence in my head as he cried, and when I did, I held him tighter.
“It’s not your fault, Shane.”
“It is!” he cried.
I shut my mouth. I had the urge to reassure him, to let him know that it was a simple accident, that he wasn’t at fault by any means and that no one blamed him, then I began to feel like an utter, horrible heel for not understanding why he’d brought up Aidan in the first place.
“Mr. Devereaux doesn’t blame you, Shane.”
He shook his head, rubbing his forehead against my shoulder in disbelief.
Shane’s dad had died from prostate cancer four years ago. And while his mom had never been one of the “vultures” that Aidan brought up occasionally, I did know that he’d stepped in to the father-type role for Shane. Derrick and Shane often played on the same sports teams and Aidan was there for every game. I had frequently heard the boys talking about it.
At the thought, my heart shattered for Shane. Not only had he lost his dad and his best friend, now he thought he’d lost Aidan, too.
My heart was so torn for this kid that I did nothing except hold him close and cry silent tears while he continued to sob on my shoulder.
Eventually, he stopped and pulled away. His cheeks flushed when he saw me watching him as he wiped his tears away with the backs of his hands.
“Mr. Devereaux will still be there for you,” I told him, even though I was uncertain. Maybe someday Aidan would be able to do that, but I knew he couldn’t now. Nor would he want to.
Shane stood up and grabbed his books.
“I went over there the other day and he saw me at the door. He stared at me and then turned and walked away. He hates me.”
I laid my hand over his and squeezed. “He doesn’t hate you.”
Shane stared out into the hallway, seeming to ignore me. The bell was ringing, although neither of us heard it at first. The hallway was filling with students on their way to classes after lunch.
“Give him some time.”
As Shane walked around my desk toward the crowded hall, I called his name.
When he stopped and looked at me over his shoulder, I smiled. “Give yourself some time, too.”
He blinked. A pain hit my chest when I saw the helplessness in his dreary blue eyes. “Thanks, Miss Dwyer.”
I watched him disappear into the crowd that resembled sardines smashed into a tin can. Chewing on my bottom lip, I mindlessly tapped a pen on my desk, trying to figure out how in the world I could fix these two broken guys.
IfI could fix them.
And why had both of them come to me in the first place?
I was just as broken as the rest of them; I just hid it better.
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