Page 23 of Shelter for Shay
“That’s true.” He nodded slowly. “But I would’ve done it without the bribe. She meant that much to me.”
Shay traced the edge of the photo, then set it down and looked at him.
“I’m so grateful you’re here,” she said. “Not just for my mom, but for me too.”
“I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else right now.”
The moment stretched.
Then, slowly, she shifted toward him on the couch, knees brushing. She lifted her hand and touched his face, fingers trailing gently along his jaw. He didn’t flinch. Didn’t move away. He just closed his eyes for a second—because her touch felt like peace, and he’d never felt that in Lake George. He wasn’t sure he knew how to breathe through it.
He blinked.
She leaned in, and when her lips touched his, it wasn’t desperate. It was quiet. Warm. A merging of sorrow and comfort and a fragile hope he couldn’t name.
He kissed her back, his hand settling at her waist, grounding her. And himself.
When they pulled apart, their foreheads touched, and Shay whispered, “She’s everything I’ve ever known and everything I could ever hope to be. She’s my compass and I won’t be able to find home without her.”
“You won’t lose all of her,” he said. “She’s going to be with you.” He tapped his finger in the center of her chest. “She’ll be in your heart forever. She’ll be in everything.”
The tears finally fell then—silently, like her body had stopped fighting the inevitable.
And Moose held her as the fire burned low, the clock ticked past midnight, and the world shifted under them both.
Shay – Lake George, New York, 4:12 a.m.
The world was silent in that strange, breathless way it gets after someone dies. Not that Shay had ever experienced that before,but she understood it, and it seeped into her bones now as if it were part of her.
The hospice nurse had left less than an hour ago. Everything had been gentle. Respectful. A quiet confirmation, a soft voice, a nod, a hand on Shay’s shoulder.
And then it was done.
Her mother—her sweet mama—was gone.
Shay had sat there for a long time. Just holding her hand and listening to nothing.
Now, she moved barefoot down the stairs toward her childhood bedroom, the floor cold beneath her feet. Her chest ached, her eyes burned, and somewhere in her body, there was a tremor she couldn’t control, no matter how still she stood.
She stopped in front of the room where Moose had been staying. She felt some guilt that she hadn’t woken him up, but there was nothing he could do. In the end, she was grateful it had just been her and her mom in that room and the nurse had slipped into the hallway, knowing it was time.
As much as Moose had meant to her mother, it was better this way, and even though she’d only known him for a couple of days, she knew him well enough that he would’ve felt like an outsider. Even if she’d wanted him there, it would have been hard for him, and that was the last thing she wanted for the man who had given up so much to be with her mom.
That had been as much for her as it was for him. Her mother had needed to say goodbye to Moose. Knowing that the toughest kid she’d ever worked with had turned out… okay. And Moose, even though there was something slightly broken in his deep, caring eyes, was indeed okay.
She didn’t knock. She slipped inside, the shadows soft and deep, the only light coming from the cracked window where the faintest gray was beginning to hint at dawn.
He was awake.
She could tell by the way his body stilled when she entered, the subtle shift of weight as he turned beneath the blanket.
He sat up slowly, shirtless, bare shoulders catching what little light there was. “Shay? What’s going on? What’s wrong?”
She crossed the room without answering. Climbed into the bed beside him as if she’d done it a thousand times before. As if she belonged right there—next to him—in his arms. Her hands were cold, her skin goose-pimpled. “She’s gone,” she whispered. Her voice was stronger than she’d expected. It didn’t crack. It didn’t shake. She simply breathed the words and somehow amid the pain, a sense of relief washed over her.
He reached for her instantly. His arms came around her like it was the most natural thing, pulling her into the solid, steady line of his chest. She curled into him, pressing her forehead to his collarbone as the first sob tore loose from her throat. It wasn’t for her mother. She was at peace now. Her pain was gone. She didn’t have to suffer any longer. The tears that flowed freely from Shay’s eyes were for herself. For the grief of what was to come with the rising sun.
He didn’t speak.
