Where the Heart Is (Hearts Series Book 1) Page 6

  “I think, sometimes, we have to work through stuff on our own, you know?”

  He rubs his thumb back and forth over my knuckles.

  “You weren’t alone, though. You had your Mum, Ana, Simon. What I said about the two of you, it was out of order. It’s none of my business, and I’m sorry.”

  I feel something strangely like disappointment. Deep down, maybe I don’t want him to be sorry. Maybe I want it to be his business.

  “Simon is one of the good ones, Nate. Believe it or not, you two have a lot in common, and you’d probably get along.”

  “Easy tiger, I don’t know about that. I’d like to think I was one of the goods ones. I’ve missed you, Flick.”

  My chest physically aches with his words. I’ve missed him too.

  “Listen, the last thing I want is to cause drama, but me being here has been long overdue. And I have, too—missed you.”

  He looks up from our joined hands, a smile lighting his face. I can’t help but return it with mine—he’s always been infectious in that way.

  “So, friends?” He cocks his head to the side, a goofy look on his face.

  I nod.

  “Yes, friends,” I say with a roll of my eyes.

  “Pinkie swear?” He lets go of my hand and holds out his little finger.

  I look at it and laugh before I link it with mine. He gives it a little shake. Feeling awkward, I let go and stand. He does the same, running his hand through his hair. I’m just about to turn away from him when he moves towards me, pulling me into a hug.

  Stunned, my arms hang limply at my sides. I feel his hold soften. Worried he’ll let go, I wrap my arms around his waist and rest my cheek on his chest.

  I feel his shoulders relax, his chest moving as he lets out a breath. My heart is drumming heavy in my chest. I’m both elated and terrified. I’ve built walls, and yet, in the space of less than a day, he’s managed to climb right over the top. And I don’t know how to process it.

  “Nate…”

  “Hmm?” I feel the vibration through my cheek.

  “I did call you,” I whisper into his top before I lose my nerve.

  “What, when?” Hands on my shoulders, he pushes back slightly to look me in the eyes.

  “Ages ago. A girl answered—said you were in the shower. I left a message. I just figured…” That he didn’t want to talk to me.

  He shakes his head, his eyebrows pulling together. He never got my message.

  “I would have rung you back.” He looks frustrated.

  “It doesn’t matter, I don’t even know why I told you.”

  I’d be lying if I said I never wondered about her—if they’re still together. Why does the thought of him being with someone rile me up the wrong way?

  Ignore it.

  He places a gentle kiss to my forehead before stepping back.

  “Well, it matters to me. I’m going to give you a minute. I’ll see you downstairs for dinner?”

  I nod. Feeling cold as he walks away, I wrap my arms around myself, trying to recreate the warmth from his touch. The door clicks shut behind him, and I’m left alone. But for the first time in a long time, things don’t look quite so sepia.

  Chapter Seven

  Dinner without Lawry isn’t the same. I’ve spent the whole time trying to avoid, looking anywhere but at Nate. After he left my room, my mind went berserk, going over our conversation. I do that—over analyse every minute detail, every touch. I wish I didn’t, but I can’t help myself.

  I take it upon myself to clear the table. Nate joins me, and we carry out the task in silence. The only noise is the hitting and clinking of cutlery, the clanging of plates as we carry them to the kitchen. I scrape the leftovers into the bin, rinse, and load them into the dishwasher.

  Nate sits down at the kitchen table, his head low. Fidgeting, he looks like he has the weight of the world on his shoulders. The air feels thick as I swallow.

  “I need to ask you something?” Nate says, elbows on knees, his hands hang between them.

  “Okay…” I stop what I’m doing and sit opposite him.

  “I have an appointment with the funeral director tomorrow. Nan hasn’t said it, but it will crush her going, and she won’t let me go alone…” He clears his throat, clearly uncomfortable. I’m not stupid. It’s obvious what he’s asking.

  “You want me to come with you?”

  He looks up. “Would you? I know it’s a big ask, I figure she’s more likely to agree if I’m not going alone.” His vulnerability is palpable. The only time I’ve ever seen him look like this was when his parents died.

  “It’s fine. Besides, I can order the flowers for Mum and me while we’re there.”

  “Thank you. I don’t know what else to say except…thank you.” He lets out a gush of air.

  “What are friends for?” I reply.

  I begin wiping down the worktop to keep busy, but when he doesn’t respond I peer over my shoulder and catch him looking at my backside. He averts his eyes, but not before I notice. The thoughts I’ve been having of Nate recently are anything but platonic. Feeling discombobulated, I sit down again and rub at my wrist. What I did to Nate by not coming back was no better than what my dad did when he left mum and me and started a new family.

  “I’m sorry I stayed away. I’m messed up, I know.”

  He looks me straight in the eye, stretching his arm across the table. He takes my hand in his, and I let the hair band ping against my flesh.

  “I don’t think you’re any more messed up than the rest of us.”

  The dryness in my throat itches as I swallow.

  “Believe me, I am. Just count yourself lucky you aren’t stuck in my messed-up head,” I say as I shrug my shoulders.

  “I wouldn’t mind knowing what goes on in that pretty little head of yours.”

  He winks, and I can’t help but smile. If I didn’t know better, I’d think he’s flirting with me. I cough—time to change the subject, me thinks.

  “How are you feeling about tomorrow?”

  I’d like to think I still know him well enough to know he’s struggling. His shoulders slump—the weight of my words heavy on his resolve.

  “Barely holding my shit together. It’s hardest in the mornings. When I first wake up, for the briefest of moments, I feel fine. Then it hits me full force that he really is gone. It’s like everyone I love ends up leaving me.” His eyes are glassy. He looks so lost. My insides twist with torment.

  “I can’t tell you anything you don’t already know about loss. But take some solace in the fact they didn’t leave you, not by choice. My Dad, he left my Mum and me by choice. Lawry and your parents… Them passing wasn’t a choice.”

  He works his jaw, his eyebrows scrunching.

  “I know the only guarantee in life is death. It’s inevitable, I get that, but it sure as hell doesn’t make it easier to accept. Not when you’re the one left behind.” His voice cracks on the last word. His head drops to his chest, silent tears only betrayed by the movement of his shoulders.

  I stand, unsure what to do. It’s the fear of intimacy that tries to hold me captive, but I force it away, making my way to his side. Placing my nervous hand on his shoulder, I squeeze.

  A small sob escapes him as I move my other hand up and down his back, rubbing it gently. He shifts. I freeze. His arms wrap around my middle, and he buries his head into my stomach.

  I slowly breathe in through my nose. Steady, steady. I don’t know how my hand finds its way to his hair, but I rake my fingers through it like I used to when we were younger.

  It’s all I can do to let him know he’s not alone. The first time I saw him after his parents died, I didn’t know how to process it. Didn’t understand the magnitude of the situation. It wasn’t until I saw his face, and the pain mirrored there, that I knew—they weren’t coming back.

  I’d given him my beanie bear, the one I used to carry with me everywhere. He shook his head, but I’d kissed his cheek, and told him it was his.
I cried that night, missing my bear because it was the last present my dad gave to me before he moved out. But I knew he would be missing his parents more. They were never coming back…at least I would still get to see my dad.

  Chapter Eight

  I’ve been awake long enough now to know that’s all the sleep I’ll be getting. I twist and turn, looking for a cool spot amongst the sheets. I think about last night, how Nate crumbled, how once upon a time we felt invincible. But now life lets us know just how vulnerable we are.

  I need to run; clear my head. It’s the only time I feel free from these prison walls encased around my busy mind—a constant loop that only stills in the eye of the beast when I run. Workout clothes on, iPod in hand, I make my way through the house, as quietly as I possibly can.

  I stretch my arms and calves, then set off into a jog. Earbuds in, music on shuffle, I pick up the pace. I forget all about the shittiness of the world, I let it all go.

  There’s this moment—right in the build-up to the burn—when I think my body can’t take anymore, and I consider quitting. But my instinct to stop morphs into an obsession to carry on. And just like that, I push. Harder. An all-out sprint before I slow and come to a stop. I feel it everywhere.

  Hands on knees, I lean over to catch my breath. I hear something and stop my music. It’s a clanking noise—like metal on metal, coming from the garage. I walk over, my footsteps light as I peer inside the open door. His legs peek out from underneath the bonnet of a car, and I watch him work. When Nate slides himself out on a trolley, he’s shirtless.

  As if by magic, he must sense me. He looks up and catches me mid-gape. The corners of his mouth twitch.

  “Morning,” he says, wiping his hands on a rag hanging from his jean pocket. He pulls himself up, his jeans riding real low. I wonder if he’s commando…

  I choke on thin air—what the fuck—my eyes springing back to his face while I cough away my embarrassment.

  “You’re up early, have you been out here long?” I hope the fact I’m already hot from my run covers up my embarrassment. My sweat-stained face, and a bird’s nest on the top of my head, are small mercies. At least I brushed my teeth. I bite my lip. Since when did Nate fill out so much? I want to smack myself in the head because I’m gawking again.

  “A while. So, you run?” He tilts his head, watching me, waiting for my response.

  I wonder if that look works on whats-her-face, or any other girl for that matter. He manages to carry it off, and I know how easily it could be misconstrued for arrogance, but I think he’s just confident—unassuming, even. I blink. Shit, he asked you a question. Answer him.

  “When I can.” My voice sounds strange even to my ears, but he doesn’t seem to notice.

  “Well if you fancy a partner while you’re here, let me know.” He says it with a wink, and my body reacts, sending a flutter to my stomach. What’s wrong with me?

  “Okay, I’m going to go grab a shower.”

  He smiles playfully with a wiggle of his eyebrows. I roll my eyes. This is the flirtatious side of Nate I remember, and I can’t help but smile.

  “I’ll see you at breakfast. Are you still all right to come with me today?” That boyish look he had seconds ago vanishes with his question.

  “Of course.”

  His relief is evident, and I turn to leave before I do something stupid like hug him…or worse, lick that sheen of sweat from his neck. A tingle comes to life deep in my belly.

  “Hold up, is that a tattoo?”

  He catches me off guard, stopping me in my tracks. I turn back to him. Looking down, I realise my tank top doesn’t quite cover much of my mid-drift—my ink visible. I feel self-conscious. If I could pull my top down lower, I would. I’m more modest than I used to be, but I need calm down. It’s not like I’m standing in my bra, for fuck’s sake. It’s just a sports top.

  “It is.” I wrap my arms around my middle, my fingers squeezing me on either side.

  “Can I see it?”

  I pause and take a few breaths.

  “I guess so.” I drop my arms, turning to an angle so he can see.

  “Wow, that’s beautiful. Did it hurt over the ribs?” he asks, looking back up to my face.

  “A little… Well, a lot, actually, but it was worth it. You forget about any pain afterward, and I’m pleased with it.”

  I designed it myself—a Japanese-style cherry blossom. I suck in a quick breath as his fingers trail over the outline, his touch tickling, causing me to let out a laugh.

  “Still ticklish, I see?”

  I wince and step away, but he grabs hold of my waist with one hand, continuing to tickle me with the other, his assault relentless.

  “Nate, stop. Please!” I squeal like a baby pig, trying to wriggle free.

  He stops tickling me but keeps a hand on my waist. He moves closer. My breath catches as he brings his other hand up to my face, tucking the loose hair behind my ear. I lick my lips before swallowing nervously. I bite my bottom lip. He is so close—too close. If I move just a fraction, I could lean in and… I glance over my shoulder, trying to focus my attention somewhere else when I spot it—something familiar.

  “Is that one of the cars you’re working on?”

  He looks over his shoulder, which gives me the perfect opportunity to slip out of his touch. I walk towards the car.

  “Yep,” he replies, popping the p.

  I smile, touching my chin with my thumb and forefinger, as if in thought.

  “Let me guess, a sixty-seven Chevy Impala?”

  His jaw drops, his eyes going wide as he nods.

  “Damn. There’s something seriously sexy about you knowing what car this is.”

  I walk around it, my hand gliding over the smooth finish of the paintwork, then laugh at his comment.

  “Well, Nate, it just so happens that this car right here—” I place my palm on the bonnet, tapping my fingers for emphasis, “—is one of my favourite cars.”

  His smile is wide as he steps in front of me. Instinct tells me to take a step back, but my body comes to a stop as the backs of my calves touch the car. I go to step to the side, but he extends both arms around me, caging me in, his palms now flat against the car.

  “No shit. Really?”

  There’s this look in his eyes, which if I’m not mistaken, looks something akin to lust. It causes me to suck in a quick breath, my lower region clearly affected by his proximity.

  “Yes, really,” I say, feeling a burst of bravery.

  He leans into my ear, his breath warm against my neck as he whispers.

  “In that case, once I finish, I’ll take you out for a drive.”

  I close my eyes, my body trembling slightly. We always had a connection, but this is something else entirely. I’ve never felt this kind of attraction. My breath quickens when his lips brush a feather-light kiss on my neck. I move just a little when his lips touch my collarbone. I place a hand on his shoulder to steady myself, something like a whimper escaping me. What the ever-fucking God?

  I feel a vibration against my pelvis coming from his jeans. He looks to the ceiling, letting out an audible groan.

  I take a breath. My heart feels like it’s running a marathon. There’s no denying my attraction to him. He moves back and pulls his phone from his pocket to silence it. His eyes drift up to my lips, which now suddenly feel so dry, I sweep my tongue over them. I swallow as I watch him—his stare burning my skin, causing goose bumps to rise on the nape of my neck.

  “Nate?” I say, breaking the silence.

  He shakes his head. A small, tender smile crosses his face as he clears his throat.

  “Sorry, we should go get ready.”

  I nod before walking away. And make sure not to look back.

  I can’t believe I let his lips touch my skin. My willpower evaporated. What if his phone hadn’t brought me back to reality? I wonder who it was—I’d ask, but it’s none of my business. All I know is I’m left feeling confused.

  I shower as so
on as I return to my room. I can still feel his lips on my skin, and I get this warm feeling deep in the pit of my tummy. I try to ignore the pulse between my legs, squeezing my thighs together. My skin flushes. Shit, I’m totally turned on. I can’t let myself believe it’s anything more than just pent-up frustration on his part and mine. One thing I do know for certain—I’m not emotionally stable to go there, the whole no strings attached. No can do.

  Now I’m getting ahead of myself, but for the first time in a long time, I have a burning desire for something more to happen. But it’s not just anyone. It’s Nate. My hand slips between my legs of its own accord, and I squeeze my eyes closed. Biting my lip, I think back to the feeling of his lips on my skin.

  Chapter Nine

  Looking over at Nana, I realise her skin no longer holds the olive glow from hours spent tending to her garden. It’s taken on a lighter tone, her wrinkles now more prominent, the crow’s feet around her eyes are set now deeper. Her hair used to have a silver sheen to it, but now it’s a lacklustre grey, hanging limply. The halo of light that once surrounded her is beginning to fade. Her posture is frail, brittle even, her shoulders slump, and a small hump rests between her shoulder blades.

  “Morning, how did you sleep?” she asks, her voice weak as I give her a kiss on the cheek.

  “Not bad. I went for a run earlier, cleared my head. How are you feeling?”

  Her shoulders slump. “Overwhelmed. It feels like a lifetime ago that Samuel Junior was born, and I went to France as a Special Operations Executive. But it also feels like it was only yesterday.”

  “Wait, what? Hold on…you were a female spy?” I’m flabbergasted. This woman has always been someone I aspired to be growing up, but even now, she never ceases to amaze me. Talk about a dark horse.

  “Something like that, I guess.”

  “You’re a war hero?” My heart is warm.

  She shakes her head. “No. The men and women who never made it home—they’re the heroes. It’s tragic so many died to give us the freedom we have today. I remember when I first met your grandfather. He was part of the resistance. Handsome. Of course, but believe me when I say our relationship was far from plain sailing, God rest his soul.” She smiles at the memory. “By the time the war ended, he already had my heart and soul. Of course, I wanted to be wherever he was, and I knew he was happiest in France, but he understood I wanted our children to have the best of both worlds. My family was here in England, so we compromised—traveling back and forth.