The cold weather lingered, as if overnight the world decided it was autumn despite the summer warmth of the previous days. Shane's walk to JojaMart stung but he welcomed it – would have welcomed snow that day, a blizzard, a hurricane or volcanic eruption – because for once he wasn't woken by his alarm, but by his aunt softly shaking his shoulder.

Marnie no longer forced cheerfulness between them, but neither did she appear to be holding any sort of grudge. Ever since their disastrous conversation she'd simply been distant, greeting him with neither vitriol nor warmth, acting like Shane was a roommate she wasn't especially close to. Hovering over his bed now, she held out the house phone and whispered, "It's Sophia," and left the room as quietly as she'd entered.

Less than five hours after seeing him? They hadn't gotten home until two in the morning. Shane rolled on his back and closed his eyes, heart quietly racing for her.

"Hello?"

"Hey sleepyhead. I imagine you didn't get much rest."

"Enough," he lied through his headache.

"So after last night…I just wanted to make sure you're okay. You know everything we said still applies, right? I'm still here for you. Nothing changes just because it's a new day."

Lying in his darkened bedroom and hearing her voice like this, Shane once again felt a wave of blissful nausea – the same one he'd felt in the bathhouse in the spring when he realized how badly he wanted her; the same one he felt when she slipped the lei over his head and her fingers grazed his hair, and when she leaned against the shelves of the baking aisle in Joja. The one he felt when she did anything in his vicinity.

He let the wave wash over him, her words rolling through it.

"I know," he said at last.

"You better." A pause. "By the way – I've already arranged it with Marnie – but Amber's going to stay at the ranch this weekend. Will you hang out with her, or at least let her chill in your room at night? It's just that she knows you best, and she's so used to cuddling in the evening, and I know she's a spaz but she won't jump on the furniture unless you invite her and—"

"Look, she can hang out with me the whole time if she wants."

"Oh, okay. Good."

Then there was another pause where she seemed to be working up to say more – a long pause.

"Sophia?"

"Shane, can you promise me something?"

"Yes," he said, because she'd earned that.

"If – well, if you feel the need to drink…call me. Anytime, day or night. Just promise you'll call before taking a single sip. And I don't want you to be embarrassed or worry about what to say. You don't even have to say anything – just call and stay quiet and I'll know what it's about, I'll take over. Promise?"

He remembered how much her kindness had hurt when they first met, when they were still strangers. Like a slap to the face. It still ached, but in a way he didn't mind anymore – maybe because he knew it was genuine. Not mocking, not full of pity, but just Sophia being her beautiful self.

"Promise," he said.

"Promise?"

"I'll call, okay?"

"If you don't, know that I can get a thousand times more annoying than I currently am."

"You couldn't be annoying if you tried. That's the fucking annoying part."

"Someday I'll probably have to remind you that you said that. But I know you have work soon, so I'll talk to you later, okay? And remember – you promised."

He thought about that promise on his final stretch to the store.

That phone call should have mortified him. Would have, had it happened any other time. But the magic of the previous night was not only in the jellyfish, but the feeling of laying on the cold wood of the dock and telling her things that he was unable to stop his drunk tongue from telling, and not having her say, "Man up," nor "Poor, poor you," either of which would've crushed him. Instead she squeezed his hand and then listened, and while listening rubbed his fingers with her own small, slightly calloused ones.

There was also the walk home.

It'd been silent, but silence with Sophia was different than silence with anyone else, and after all they'd shared by the water Shane was glad she didn't want to talk. He wanted to focus on holding her hand, because a walking handhold felt different than one sitting still and he wanted to memorize every detail of it. In twenty-nine years, he'd never held hands with someone before.

Then there was the way she'd kissed him again, giving his hand a final squeeze while touching her lips to his cheek. The way she'd headed down the dirt road to her farm and not even offered to give his hoodie back; how she wore it home and his final image of the night was her burying her nose in the neck of it.

His tongue had been loose last night, and the details of what he'd told her were blurry. He'd rambled a lot and probably embarrassed himself a good number of times. But he remembered every last thing Sophia had done or said – every look, every touch, every word spoken. The eye contact she'd made while they laid with shoulders touching. The words about him being like Amy; about him not being like his father. The way she told him in no uncertain terms that she wanted to see more of him – of calling this morning as if to prove it.

It was like she could read him on a fucking preternatural level; as if she knew he would wake up doubting what had happened, thinking his drunk brain had fucked up the signals or wondering if she regretted it. And she would've been right – if her call hadn't come first thing, he would have woken in a cloud of uncertainty.

But it had.

Though tired and terribly hungover, Shane never entered the doors of JojaMart with such a feeling in his chest.

"Hey Sam," he said, greeting his younger coworker in the break room.

"Er – hey Shane," said Sam, clearly taken aback. "Something up?"

Shane shrugged. "Nothing up. Just saying hey."

"You feeling okay?"

He laughed, and a confused-looking Sam said, "Morris split his pants this morning or something?" When Shane laughed again he looked at him like he might be delirious, slowly backing away from his locker. "I'll, uh, see you on the floor, man."

Work was slow and he was able to leave at three instead of five, so once Jas got home from school he took her for a walk to Pierre's – even his watchful badger eyes couldn't piss on Shane's parade – and let her pick out whatever ice cream she wanted, along with a small bunch of flowers for Marnie.

"What's this?" said his aunt, when a beaming Jas presented her with the bouquet of white and purple alstroemeria.

"Uncle Shane said to pick you flowers because he's been a booger to you."

"Jas!" She wasn't supposed to actually say it.

Marnie's hand clamped to her mouth like she might laugh, but by the time she pulled it away the corners of her eyes were wet. "I suppose I should get these in water then. They're just beautiful Jas, thank you."

She kissed the top of Jas's head, then turned to the cupboard and spent so long searching for a suitable vase that Shane had a feeling she didn't want him to see the front of her.

He went to the chicken coop after; sitting cross-legged on the ground with Charlie on his lap, he scratched and massaged his neck while two of the other chickens pecked at his shoes.

"Life can be okay, can't it?" he said quietly. "Sometimes…it can be okay. I forget that a lot." He stroked Charlie's head. "I'm actually having a good week. It feels weird to say that."

The chicken blinked his red-rimmed eyes once before closing them again, a guttural purring deep in his feathery throat.

Then there was a knock in the coop, and when Shane looked up Marnie lingered by the doorframe in her apron.

"Do you have a moment?"

She'd caught him sitting on the ground, cuddling and conversing with a chicken – he couldn't very well say no. He nodded.

She sat down on a hay bale. A few of the nosier chickens walked over and she scratched their heads. "I'm making a shepherd's pie for supper. Will you please have some? You eat so many of those frozen pizzas – there's just no need when I'm happy to cook."

There was something like affection in her voice again, and it pained him. He didn't fucking deserve it. He hadn't even properly apologized to her.

But all he said was, "Okay. Thanks."

Then she crossed her hands and took a deep breath. "The other day…" she began, and dropped her eyes to her lap. "Shane, you embarrassed me."

His face grew hot and he focused on petting Charlie.

"I've never been spoken to like that. You put me on the spot. But I'm sorry for getting so angry."

She was sorry? Why the fuck was she sorry?

"Marnie—"

"It's okay. It is. I'm just – I'm not ready to discuss that, and all I ask is that you please understand."

"I had no right," he muttered.

"It came from a good place." Then she smiled. It wasn't forced this time, but it wasn't cheerful either – just a simple, sad smile. "And saying that, I hope you understand that I come from a good place too. I still feel awful for that morning a couple months ago. I never meant to embarrass you either." She sighed. "We're both new to this, you and I."

He glanced up.

"Being a family. We both grew up with my brother – let's not pretend that was a picnic. And growing up in my family? You never met your grandfather, but let's just say that your dad took after his own dad very much. I was the exception in my family. Just like you."

Shane had been listening quietly until her last line – then without meaning to, he gave a derisive snort.

Marnie glared. "We are the exceptions. You're a good boy – you got dragged down by a bad family, but you've always been good. You're better than what you were born into. But that type of life, that's all we've known until now, and I think we have to forgive ourselves if we aren't perfect at this right away."

He didn't quite know what to say, but it didn't matter because Marnie spoke again. "Keeping in mind that I don't say this to embarrass you, and that I'm trying very hard to be respectful of your privacy..." she leaned with her elbows on her lap, peering at him. "You have to let your crazy aunt know – what is going on with Sophia?"

He should have seen it coming.

"I…" he sighed, scratching his neck. "I don't know, Marnie."

"Midnight visits, Shane? Seven a.m. phone calls? I know I'm just an old lady now, but let me give you a hint – she's not just being your neighbor."

As good as he felt about Sophia he hated this; hated having it brought to light in plain day. When it was a secret he could carry inside himself it was fine, like with Sam at work. But discussing it out here in the open felt dangerous – like if it was looked at in too clear a light, he'd see all the fine lines of it waiting to crack.

"You know she can come to the house, right? I may be nosy asking this, but you're a grown man and I'll respect your privacy. Sophia is a lovely woman and welcome any time."

He nodded, still staring at the top of Charlie's head.

"Shane?" She waited until he looked up. "You're allowed to be happy too. Don't forget that." Then she stood, brushing her hands on her apron. "Supper'll be ready in fifteen."

She exited the coop, leaving her nephew red in the cheeks and regretting agreeing to a dinner where he'd have to sit across from her the whole time.

Sophia called again at nine that evening.

"Just packing for my parent's house," she said, voice louder than usual. Shane imagined her wedging the phone between her ear and shoulder, tossing her belongings in a bag. "Bus leaves at ten tomorrow."

"How long you staying?"

"Saturday and Sunday night, coming back Monday. If I can handle it that long."

"That bad?"

"We –haven't really talked much since I moved. A few phone calls. The last time I was home was kind of ugly, so…"

"I'm sorry," said Shane as he laid down on his bed. And he was, but he also couldn't help feeling a thrill at the casual way she'd called him on a Friday night.

"Yeah well, we'll see. I was actually just calling to make sure you're still okay." She hesitated. "The whole weekend is coming up, and I won't be around...this is my cell phone number, so you can still call me if you need to."

"I'll be fine, Sophia."

"But if you aren't. You'll call." It wasn't a question. "Also, next Saturday."

"What about it?" he said, fearful she might cancel again.

"Just make sure you're there. If Joja calls and asks you to come in – I don't know, tell them you've got a minor surgery or something. You're totally booked, okay?"

He laughed. "Done." Then he racked his brain for another topic, anything to keep her on the line. "Hey, same goes to you this weekend. If you need a break, or some sanity…"

"I'll go to that shitty Tex-Mex place around the corner from my parent's apartment. Their mystery burritos got me through a lot of dark days."

"Or, you know, you can call me."

"Yeah, but after I get my burrito."

"You're fucking impossible."

"Haven't you heard? Nothing's impossible. The word itself says 'I'm possible.'"

Shane burst out laughing. "Please tell me you didn't come up with that."

"I didn't, but don't tease. If I don't stay positive this weekend I'll crack." There was shuffling and then a sound as if she were struggling with a zipper. "You ever see those documentaries about haunted prisons and asylums and stuff?"

"Yeah…"

"Think I'd rather spend the night there. At least those ghosts are like, convicts and lunatics, not the shell of my mom and dad."

"You sure you'll be okay?"

"I have to be, Shane. My parents are broken people." She paused. "I'm lucky to have you. You let me help you, and I think I fucking need that. My parents don't let me help them. I know they don't do it on purpose, but fuck, if it doesn't break my heart into eight hundred pieces. If you pushed me away like them? I'd probably have to move to some mountaintop in Peru, live with alpacas or something."

"Please don't. JojaMart doesn't pay enough for those kind of plane tickets."

"You'd visit me on my mountain?" she asked, suddenly coy, and Shane's heart beat fast – but then she dropped it as fast as she'd put it on. "Real talk though, I'm going to be completely drained by Monday. So if I don't call right away, don't take it personally. It won't mean anything's changed. And you can still call if you need to, that line is 24/7."

"You'll be okay?" he said.

"I'll be okay." She paused. "You won't drink?"

"I won't drink."

She grew quiet. "I really want you to get better, Shane."

"Makes two of us."

He could hear the smile through her next word. "Good."

After they hung up Shane closed his eyes. His head felt clear, his heart lighter than it'd been in years. If only every night could feel like this, he'd never feel the need to sink into a bottle again.

The next morning, a knock came at the door while Shane was digging through the fridge for breakfast. Marnie sat at the kitchen table, reading the newspaper with her coffee, and at the sound she folded it and silently walked into the other room.

He stared the back of her bathrobe as he nervously went to the door.

Sophia stood waiting with Amber at her feet, her canvas bag on one shoulder, and she smiled shyly at seeing Shane answer.

"Hey," she said, at the same time as a suddenly-hyper Amber rushed forward to see him.

"Hey," he said, scratching her but still looking up at Sophia.

Her shy smile flickered, and she slid the bag off her shoulder. "Um. All her supplies are in here. I put her treats in separate bags so you know how many to give each day. And there's her blanket, and favorite toy…"

She handed the bag to him and he took it. Their hands met where she held the cloth straps, and Shane was certain she touched him longer than necessary – but then it was like she realized how obvious she'd been, and quickly pulled her hands into her pockets.

"I really appreciate you guys watching her."

"No problem."

The timid smile flickered again. "I wish I could stay awhile, but I've still got a few things to do before catching the bus…"

She was lingering, and Shane didn't know what to do. They'd only held hands, and it'd be awkward to grab hers now while they just stood there. It'd be even weirder to try to hug her; he inwardly cringed at the idea of her shrinking back, saying, "What are you doing?" Somehow even her cheek kisses felt inappropriate – that was the sort of thing you closed a night with, not a two-minute interaction first thing in the morning.

Then Sophia got closer and Shane's heart began to race, wondering what she was about to do – but she only bent over to give Amber a final pat at his feet. He felt both relieved and disappointed.

Until she stood. She grabbed his hand and gave it a small squeeze, looking in his eyes.

"Bye, Shane," she said softly.

He gulped. "Bye, Sophia."

Then she quickly let go, and as he closed the door behind her he also closed his eyes.

He'd put this off for a long time – and not only because of how much he hated making phone calls.

After eating breakfast, he reluctantly picked up the phone and called Dr. Harvey.

The clinic smelled of astringent and cotton balls, the walls too white and the tile floors too pristine. The room felt tiny, almost claustrophobic as Shane sat on the rolled out paper of the check-up bed, staring at a green poster on the wall reminding him to vaccinate his children. He looked up when the door clicked open and the doctor entered the room, peering at him through rectangular glasses.

Dr. Harvey cleared his throat. "Good afternoon, Shane. How may I help you today?"

He hadn't been in any sort of hospital since Garrett and Samantha died, and while Harvey's humble clinic was nothing like the hectic city hospital with its bustling emergency room and blue-scrubbed orderlies telling him the line to his friend's heart had gone flat, it was still too familiar. It smelled the same; had the same thin, sterile air that made him want to vomit.

"Er…" He rubbed his chin, glancing up at the doctor before looking away again. Then he spoke, but it came out as a mumble.

"Pardon?" Harvey blinked at him politely, clipboard resting horizontally against his stomach, knuckles wrapped over the top.

Shane took a deep breath. Harvey wasn't a bad guy, but fuck, he hated this.

"I, er, want to get tested."

Harvey nodded. "I believe I understand – but could you please clarify for me?"

He could feel the heat rise in his face. "Sexual stuff."

"Of course, thank you. There's nothing to be embarrassed about Shane, this is all quite routine. I will have to ask you some questions, though, if that's all right?"

He nodded miserably.

Harvey rearranged a few papers on his clipboard, then clicked his pen open. "What prompted you to come in? Are you seeing symptoms?"

Shaking his head, he muttered, "Just…want to make sure."

"Well, it's excellent that you want to be sure. I know it's not always easy to address these things, but I'm glad you came in today." Harvey gave a small, encouraging smile. "But moving on – can you tell me how long ago your latest sexual activity was?"

Fuck. Good question. He'd come to Pelican Town in early winter…

"I dunno, ten or eleven months ago?" Then he felt a momentary panic. "Am I too late or something? I – I don't know how this works."

"Not too late at all. It's good you came in, if it's something that concerns you. Now, may I ask how many partners you've had?"

Shane's head snapped up. "You have to know that?"

"It gives me an idea of what kinds of tests we should run."

He'd lost track a long fucking time ago. Harvey's face was pleasant and free of judgment, but Shane felt too ashamed to even look at him.

"If you prefer, we can just do the full run of tests regardless?"

He nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, just do that."

"One last question about your activity – did you use protection?"

His face, already red hot, burned hotter. "Um. Yes. But…some nights, I don't really remember everything…so maybe not…"

Harvey unwound at the Stardrop Saloon on Friday nights, like most of the village. He'd have to be blind not to have seen Shane there, downing beer after beer alone.

The doctor only nodded again. "Understandable. And symptoms, Shane? Any at all, even in the past?"

Shane shook his head.

"Well, the good news is, if you've been this long without symptoms and were in the habit of using protection, I'd say your chances of anything severe are relatively low. And again, I commend you for coming in today."

Harvey asked a few more questions about his health and family history, then let Shane change into his dressing gown. He tried to let his mind drift elsewhere as he urinated in a cup, had blood drawn, had a swab taken. When he was done Harvey nodded and said, "You're all set. I'll give you a call within a week or two when I have your results."

A week or two?

He left the clinic with his hands in his pockets, eyes down as usual.

It's good to know anyway. Like Harvey said, it's smart.

But that didn't stop him from thinking how presumptuous it was; from wondering what Sophia would think if she knew.

But maybe – maybe she wouldn't mind.