Heather's Heart Read online

  "Where's Lana?"

  "She took off after you were up and moving. She has a group science project to finish with some class mates. And since it will go a long way to improving her grade, she's working at doing a good project. Of course if she doesn't graduate, I might kill her." His voice was wry at that last part and I had to fight a smile.

  "That mean she's doing better?" I asked as I blew on the fragrant roast, my mouth already watering to taste it as I waited for it to cool.

  "Yeah. She's brought her grades up. Though she still has to do well on this project to keep her GPA. But we will see. If she doesn't impress a few teachers with her efforts, they won't change her grade."

  I nodded, and took a bite, burning the top of my mouth but I didn't care. It smelled great, tasted better, and as soon as the food hit my mouth I realized I was starving.

  "I'm glad you called me."

  The comment pulled me out of my food haze, and I looked at my plate realizing it was half gone. Then his words made sense in my head, and something inside me recoiled.

  "Why in the world would you be glad?" My voice came out clipped, and I set down my fork looking at him, my body tense.

  He tilted his head a bit, focusing on me completely. "Because I like you. I am starting to care about you, and I've got a good idea as how empty your life is at this moment. And the fact that you thought of me at all, well ego boost I guess. But mostly I'm glad you turned to me."

  I didn't know how to respond to that, I looked at him confused and wary.

  "Heather." He set down his fork and got up, coming over to kneel next to me. "No bad intentions, no pressure. Just a man liking and caring about a woman."

  On his knees he was almost as tall as me when I was seated. His hand reached up and caressed my face. "Swear. You owe me nothing."

  My heart had become a Tasmanian devil in my chest spinning and jerking every which way. I pressed my face against his hand enjoying the heat against my face. "Promise?"

  "Promise."

  It was enough for now, I bent over, ignoring the protest of muscles as they moved in a direction they didn't want to go, and I kissed his lips, softly and gently. The world didn't stop or shake, and he didn't grab me, or pull me into a kiss that drove me senseless. Instead, he kissed me back, just as gently, then pulled back looking at me.

  "You're back is going to kill you for that move."

  I sat up straight and closed my eyes, smiling. "Yes, it is. But it was worth it."

  My eyes opened to see his blinding smile and all I could think about was kissing him again. With a force of will I pushed that away. Not now. I wanted to be functional so I could enjoy that kiss.

  The food disappeared into my body, leaving me I sitting there, sated, but for the first time in what felt like days, not wanting to sleep.

  "Not tired, huh?"

  "Not really. I mean I don't have energy, but I don't want to sleep."

  "Movie?"

  That appealed to me immensely. The hobble out to his living room let me see more of the house than I had already. It was a nice house, well-kept and pictures of Lana were everywhere. The house gave out the aura of a family living there, something my house really didn't.

  There was a couch and a club chair, and I wavered not sure where to sit so I could put my leg up.

  "Here, sit on the couch." Chris waved at it as he walked over to an ottoman and pushed it over. He focused on getting me settled in, and it felt good to be fussed over, even if I still felt like a refugee.

  "What would you like to watch?"

  I blinked and my mind went blank unable to think of anything that I wanted to see and I shrugged.

  "Mind if I pick?"

  "Do I get veto rights?"

  "Always."

  "Then go for it." I leaned back, warm and comfy, the food and the pills creating a nice soft feeling that pushed my general aches and pains away.

  "This work?" He had queued up a movie I hadn't seen with Jackie Chan as the Monkey King.

  "Perfect. You remembered prefer action."

  He flashed a sideways smile at me. "Of course."

  I flushed, feeling wanted, which was weird, especially given how I looked and felt.

  "Okay if I sit on the couch?"

  The couch was bigger than a love seat, but not even as close as we were in the theater.

  "Sure." Part me of wanted to curl up next to him, but that was too forward, even with the kiss. I still felt too off balance to know for sure what to do. Chris settled down, and the couch shifted subtly and I felt my body tilt his direction. With a bit of adjusting I got comfy again. He started the movie and I fell into it. I'm a fully immersive movie watcher most of the time, so between being drugged, a full belly, and general exhaustion, I lost myself into the movie, not really paying attention to anything else.

  More than halfway through the movie, there was a touch on my leg. And I had to yank my attention away from the movie as it paused. At some point while watching the movie I had twisted, my legs across Chris's lap, his hand a weight on the leg without a cast.

  "Oh. Um, sorry?" I hadn't remembered or even realized I had moved.

  "Don't be. I'm enjoying it if you are. But I need to use the restroom and need a drink. You want something, maybe some ice cream?"

  I wanted him to stay, to curl up with him, to be held, and pretend… my mind trailed off. What did I want to pretend? The question hung in my mind and I didn't have an answer.

  "Hot tea, please? And yes, ice cream would be wonderful."

  He nodded, lifted my legs, then set them back down carefully and disappeared down the hall, leaving me watching after him, my emotions all jumbled and confused. I still didn't have them ordered, not that I knew what order to put them in, by the time he came back, a bowl of ice cream in each hand and a happy relaxed look on his face. Looking at his smile I let my confusion go, accepting the ice cream, and watching with a certain level of bemused pleasure as left again to grab my tea, then settled back down on the couch, arranging my legs back on his lap.

  The ice cream hit a hunger I didn't know I had, and I existed with the touch of his hands on my legs, my unshaven legs.

  Oh crap.

  The thought sent a ripple of panic through me, but then I looked at him. He didn't seem to care. My sweats had ridden up exposing my calf, and his hand traced back and forth gently over my bare skin, exposing long stubble and toes with chipped polish. I could never keep the polish from not chipping.

  Why would he care? John enjoyed shaved legs and pretty toes, but that wasn't important to him either.

  I wanted to protest my own thoughts, but I couldn't. It mattered more when we had dated, but after marriage he almost preferred me without make up. Chris didn't seem to care either. Here I was, exhausted, no makeup, as far from sexy as you could get, and he still wanted to touch me and be with me.

  I mulled it over for a minute, then decided to avoid that minefield, and ignored the thoughts and feelings. Instead I watched the movie. Jackie Chan always made me smile, and when it was over my energy level had disappeared as thoroughly as the Monkey King.

  "You look ready to go back to sleep."

  "I am. You sure you're okay taking time off? I can probably manage by myself."

  He shrugged. "I haven't taken a vacation in ages. This is a quiet time for us with as much rain as there has been, so I'm good."

  "This does not qualify as a vacation."

  "Oh, I don't know. Getting to laze around at home with a beautiful woman," he cast a sideways smile at me. "Sounds like heaven in my book."

  I knew I probably blushed, but I didn't protest any more. Instead I let him help me to bed, the cast was heavy and the idea of bed made me more tired than I expected. I closed my eyes this time, holding my breath without conscious thought.

  "Night, Heather." His lips brushed across my forehead. It should have felt like a parent to child, but it didn't. Want and desire washed through me, and it simply made me feel cherished. Sleep came easy, the drugs I su
pposed, but for the first time in too long, I dreamed of John.

  He stood leaning against the wall watching me get dressed.

  "I can't believe I was lucky enough to marry you. Best decision I ever made."

  "Really? And here I thought it was your Mustang."

  "Nope. You." He walks over and pulls me up from where I was trying to tie my shoes. "You're the best thing ever, any man would be lucky to have you."

  I snort and roll my eyes, it was my standard answer to his compliments.

  "Heather, listen. I will always love you, you were made to be loved. Don't push that way. Let me love you while I have you."

  "What do you mean by that?"

  John doesn't answer me, just holds my face and watches me. I try to talk but can't, and the look on his face as the dream fades was one I remembered often. His 'I can't believe I have you' look.

  I woke with tears on my face, but I remembered many scenes like that. He always thought he was lucky and that any man would be blessed to have me.

  He wouldn't want me to live life mourning him, being alone.

  I knew that without a shadow of doubt, and that knowledge seemed to free me. My teeth brushed, the nicest slob clothes I had, my hair neat and a touch of eyeliner, Lana had grabbed my makeup, and I headed out into the kitchen on a mission. My cast clomping all the way.

  The scent of coffee led the way into the kitchen. Chris was standing there watching the pot, an addict waiting for his fix. I understood that all too well. John had never liked coffee, but I needed it to breath or at least act human.

  "Chris?" I asked as I walked, well limped, into the kitchen.

  He turned to me, smiling, which got wider as he saw me and maybe the effort I had made.

  "Morning. Coffee should be ready shortly."

  "Good." Before I could let myself second guess, chicken out, or over think it, I walked up to him my heart beating as if I was trying to run a marathon. His eyes widened as I stopped directly in front of him, my hand slipped up and I pulled his head down to mine and kissed him. Chris's response was gratifyingly instantaneous. His arms wrapped around me, pulling me flush against him as his mouth opened and his tongue traced my lips. I opened my mouth in response and sank into the kiss, lost in the sensation of being held of his strength and warmth wrapped around me. It hurt it felt so good.

  "Wow, way to go dad." Lana's voice cut through my haze of simple pleasure and I stiffened. Chris ended the kiss slowly and lifted his head to look at his daughter. I wanted to sink into the floor, and tried to pull away, but his arms kept me there, plastered against his body. I decided fighting to pull away would be even more awkward, so I closed my eyes wishing for the floor to open up and swallow me.

  "Your timing sucks." His voice was mild, but I thought I detected a hint of annoyance in his voice, which made me fight a smile.

  "Oh, I don't know about that. I thought it was pretty good."

  "Lana." There was a definite growl in his voice this time.

  "Fine, fine. I'm going." I heard her rustle around, the fridge open and close, then a minute later the door open and close. Chris relaxed his hold on me, and I wanted those strong arms tight around me again the instant they slackened.

  "You okay?"

  I pulled back a bit to look him in the face, even if my face against his chest had been awfully nice.

  "With which part?"

  A smiled pulled at one side of his face. "All of it, any of it?"

  I shrugged, trying to act nonchalant, I don't think he bought it. "Definitely don't regret the kiss. Lana was an aspect I hadn't considered."

  "You considered kissing me?"

  "Yep, worked myself up to it even."

  "Ah. Interested in seeing if it gets better with practice?"

  "I don't know," my voice teasing as his bantered melted off the stress. "That first kiss was pretty hard to top. Maybe I should stop on a good note."

  "I'm willing to take the risk if you are." His voice had deepened, a husky tone that flashed through me as he leaned down and captured my lips with his.

  The second time was better than the first.

  After he let me go, he helped me settle at the table, and he handed me some coffee. With an exasperated expression he looked around the kitchen.

  "I'm afraid neither of us eats breakfast here, and we don't have much breakfast food. And we've cooked what we had."

  I shrugged, coffee was more important at the moment.

  "I can run out and grab us something?" He offered even as he worshiped his own cup of coffee.

  With a bit of mental refocus, checked my own hunger levels, and while it current status was 'could eat' I could tell in an hour or two it would be different.

  "I can give you some money for groceries, and I can try to cook." I glanced around the kitchen. "Maybe sandwich stuff, and something I can cook in the crock pot?"

  "You don't have to, I can buy groceries." His voice had an odd tone to it and I looked at him, weighing my words carefully.

  "I know you can. But I'm kinda freeloading here. I'm on disability for the rest of the week, and I have plenty of money. I have no issue buying groceries, especially as you're the one helping me out. Besides, if I'm paying, it removes the guilt of asking for the silly, decadent things I want." I flashed what I hoped was a winsome smile at him.

  The look on his face remained something I couldn't decipher, and he just looked at me a steady look, then he shrugged. "Logic. Who am I to argue with it?"

  A slight sigh might have escaped, but I'd deny it. "If you would grab me my purse?"

  Chris refilled my coffee, what a wonderful man, before he went to get my purse. He returned, holding it out to me, and I had to smile a bit. John had hated holding it for me, to the point I had rarely traveled with one. But with work it was easier. Weekends I tended to not bother. I reached in and grabbed my phone, I hadn't bothered since I'd been here. As I expected no missed calls. I pulled my card out of the case and handed it to him. "Here, do it as debit. The number is 3971."

  Chris looked at me. "You sure? You barely know me."

  I had to fight not to roll my eyes, I barely won. "I've got the app here, I'll see how much you pull out. I'm staying with you, at your mercy." I shrugged. "If you were going to do anything, knowing my PIN wouldn't really change anything. Sides I can always change it."

  "At my mercy, huh?" His voice changed with those words, and they definitely caused my heart to speed up, but not in fear. That was pure sex I heard in that voice, and it thrilled me to have it directed at me.

  "Absolutely," my voice caught a bit I responded, looking at him.

  "Hmm." He leaned forward and instead of the passion filled kiss of need, it was sweet, gentle and melted part of my heart. He pulled back, and I still wanted more, but I didn't chase. "I'll go out in a minute. Use this," handing me a notepad and a pen. "Make a list of what you want."

  Chris disappeared upstairs and for a minute, I thought about him stripping, then kicked my mind back to what I needed to work on a list. I put some things down for sandwiches, two dinners, a couple snacks I was dying for, and my standard for fast food, stuff for quesadillas.

  After Chris left, I called my boss, answered some of her questions and got myself covered to work from home until the cast came off. I would not be driving until after that, having your right leg in a cast ensured no driving. And then I found myself abruptly exhausted. Making my way back to the bedroom I collapsed onto the bed. I heard the door open a bit later and cracked an eye to see Chris stick his head in. He just smiled and pulled back and I sank back into the blackness.

  I have no idea how long I was out, but when I pulled myself out of bed I felt better. After visiting the bathroom to try to fix the wreck the nap had done, I wobbled back out to the kitchen.

  "Hey, sleeping beauty. Feel better?"

  I turned to see Chris walk in from another room I hadn't paid any attention to.

  "Doesn't that mean you were supposed to wake me up with a kiss?" I teased back.r />
  "Oops. Guess you better go back to sleep then."

  I laughed, enjoying the simple interaction. "So food? And evil things I requested?"

  Chris laughed. "Got it all, the ice cream is in the freezer. Sandwich?"

  "Please." I hadn't realized how much energy getting better took, and I was starving.

  He made the sandwich, stopping at each step to ask what I wanted. The level of consideration made me arch a brow in curiosity, giving him a funny look as he put the sandwich with chips down in front of me.

  "What?"

  "Your consideration levels are…" I trailed off not, sure how to explain the oddness of having someone care at every step. John would have just made the sandwich, leaving out the mayo, but otherwise it would have been a duplicate of his.

  He froze looking at me a mix of confusion and guilt on his face. "What the sandwich? Um, you're my guest and I've never made you a sandwich before?"

  I wanted to laugh as I watched him. "You really did enjoy being married." I said it as a statement but he flinched a bit, then carried over his own sandwich and sat across from me.

  "Yeah. I like taking care of people and Lana doesn't really need me anymore." His head jerked up in terror. "I mean, I'm not glad you got hurt or anything. I had hoped we could go do something this weekend, but you called me." For a moment he looked much younger and shrugged. "You needed me."

  A piece of his character snapped into place. Chris needed to be needed. And his daughter didn't need him as much anymore. I took a bite of the sandwich. It wasn't a bad trait, and much better than some I was aware of. It had been a long time since I needed anyone. Maybe he needed to be needed as much as I needed to be wanted.

  "Okay." I didn't say anything else, and he relaxed and with it the atmosphere changed too. The sexual awareness was still there, but for now both of us just enjoyed being with another adult who wanted, needed them, on multiple levels.

  The next few days passed in an odd truce. Lana and I talked in the evenings at dinner. She was a nice girl, if still a bit naïve about the world. After cleaning up, she'd disappear to her room, or out with friends while we would migrate to the living room. Chris would pull my legs on his lap or hold my hand while we watched TV, and he worked in his office during the day while I caught up on reading. He kissed me each night on the forehead, and while I wanted more, neither of us pushed it. Honestly, I hurt too much, and every movement reminded me of how much abuse my body had taken.