He lightly touched her arm. She flinched. Pain ripped through him. Not because of what she’d done, but for what she’d been through. How many times had her own father hit her? Beaten her? Left her bloodied?
“Shelby, I want you to slow your breathing. Inhale for a count of five, then exhale for the same. Can you do that for me?”
She nodded and slowed her breathing. Nick brought over the glass of water.
“She okay?” he asked in a whisper.
“I’m fine,” Shelby told him, her voice trembling. “I’m okay.”
Aidan took the glass. “Can you hold this?”
She nodded and reached for the water. Her fingers shook, but she held on to it, then took a sip. The glass started to slip. Nick grabbed it before it fell. Water spilled. Tears filled her eyes.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”
Aidan swore silently, then reached for her. Maybe it was completely the wrong thing to do, but he couldn’t help himself. He drew her against him.
“I’m here, Shelby,” he whispered. “I’m here.”
She was stiff for a second, then relaxed against him. Her arms came around him as she began to cry.
“I’m sorry,” she said again.
“Stop it. You have nothing to be sorry about. Nick and I shouldn’t have gotten into it like that.”
“No, it’s not you. I know families fight. I know for most people it stays with yelling. I know that. I just can’t always remember.”
Nick put the glass on the bar. “He’s right to get on me,” he admitted. “About my art and Dad and all the crap going on. I can’t believe everyone knows what I’m doing up in the woods.”
“I didn’t know,” Shelby told him. “What are you doing up there?”
“Working with wood mostly. Some carving, some with a chainsaw.”
Shelby sniffed, then stepped back. She wiped her face. “Are you crazy? You work with a chainsaw? On purpose?”
Nick grinned. “It’s cool. One wrong move and I could ruin the piece.”
“Or cut off your arm.”
He laughed again. “Never gonna happen.”
Aidan listened to the conversation without joining in. He watched Shelby carefully, noting the color returning to her face. Her breathing was more regular and she seemed relaxed.
“Do you sell your pieces?” she asked.
“Some. Out of state, through a couple of galleries.”
“If you’re that good, why do you work here?”
Nick’s humor faded. “That would be the question of the hour.” He glanced toward the bar. “I’ve got customers. I’ll see you later.” He walked back behind the bar.
Shelby sighed. “I got too personal.”
“You did fine. He needs to figure out what he wants with his life. How are you feeling?”
She sucked in a breath, then exhaled. “I’m okay. I’m—”
He held up a hand. “Don’t apologize. You didn’t do anything wrong.”
“I freaked out.”
“You reacted to a threatening situation.”
“It was only threatening to me.”
“That doesn’t make it any less real. Shelby, you lived through hell. Give yourself a break.”
Tears filled her eyes again. “Thank you,” she whispered. “For being so nice.”
“I’m not nice. If I hadn’t fought with Nick, this wouldn’t have happened in the first place.”
“I’m glad it did happen. I needed it to happen.”
“What are you talking about?”