But Shelby’s still there, huddled under blankets with the TV on. Thank god. “Hey, Shelbs,” I say, sheepish, as I close the door gently behind me. She doesn’t move her eyes from the TV screen, even though it’s some Spanish soap opera playing, so I know she’s not even actually watching it. “I’m assuming you didn’t find the time to break the news to Jackson.” I wait a beat before answering. Shelby’s clearly pissed, and I don’t blame her. I tried to hurry things up at the bar, only spending less than forty-five minutes with her brother, trying to shorten all of his work stories and hardly contributing anything to the conversation myself. But I felt like the world’s biggest jackass the entire time. I swallow hard, considering for a moment before I answer. “I didn’t think it was a good idea to break the news while you were down here.” Her eyes narrow, but she still doesn’t look at me.
