27 Ways to Mend His Broken Heart

by Tapscott, Shari L.

  Her text finally comes in at nine-thirty on Tuesday. Thankfully, I have the day off. No one wants me doing a tour on this little sleep.

  Kaylee: I’m ready to forgive you.

  Kyle: About time. I was starting to think you’d been abducted.

  Two seconds later, my phone rings.

  “Why was Ava at your house so early, looking very much like she’d spent the night?” she demands without a greeting.

  “She found the key in the back while I was out Friday night, and she waited for me to get home,” I tell her. “I drove around for hours after I saw you on the porch, and it was the middle of the night when I discovered her. She was asleep on the couch. I was too tired to deal with her, so I left it for the morning.”

  Kaylee is quiet for several long moments. “You drove around half the night after you saw me with Isaac?”

  “Yeah.”

  She’s quiet as she processes that. “Does any part of you, any small part, want to try again with her?”

  “You know what I thought when I found Ava on my couch?”

  I can hear her shifting in the background, and I wonder where she’s at. “What?”

  “Wrong girl.” I close my eyes, remembering. “For one split second, I thought it was you—you’re the only one who ever uses the key. Kaylee, please believe me when I say that I know without a doubt I don’t want her anymore. Because when I saw her, I wanted Ava to be you…and I was so disappointed when I realized it was her.”

  Kaylee is so quiet; I worry I lost her. I look at my phone to make sure we didn’t get disconnected, but the call is still going.

  “Now what happens?” she finally asks. “Where do we go from here?”

  I close my eyes and grin at the ceiling, relieved she hasn’t given up on us. Once I compose myself, I say, “Now, Kaylee, I take you on a real date.”

  * * *

  “I’m not sure this is a date,” Kaylee says from the passenger seat of my Jeep.

  “What are you talking about?” I grin as I slow down for a deep rut in the trail. “This is totally a date.”

  “Some people go to movies,” she points out. “Others have dinner.”

  “Those people are boring.”

  “Miniature golf, bowling, art galleries…” she goes on.

  “Art galleries?” I grimace.

  She laughs. “I’m just saying.”

  “Am I actually losing brownie points because I think out of the box?” I joke.

  “Where are we going, Kyle?” Her tone is amused, happy.

  I glance at her when the trail evens out for a few dozen yards. “We’re trying this again.”

  “Trying what again?”

  “The picnic. I’m going to get it right this time.”

  She meets my eyes and nods her approval.

  An hour and a half later, we reach our destination. I find a wide spot in the trail and pull off to the side. “We have to hike a bit.”

  She points at her boots. “I figured that since you told me to wear these.”

  I open the back to retrieve my gear. I don’t have much today since I don’t plan on taking a long hike—that’s not what this afternoon is about. I packed our lunch in my daypack this morning. Kaylee didn’t bring her pack, but I have everything we need.

  “Have we ever come out here?” she asks as I lead her down the path. It’s not an official trail, so it’s not marked or listed on maps. Since we’re in Forest Service, it’s all right to wander a bit.

  “No.” I glance back at her. “I’ve been saving it for a special occasion.”

  An hour later, after a gradual incline of about two hundred feet, the trail evens out and comes to an end.

  “Oh, wow,” Kaylee whispers, looking out at the valley below.

  We’re high atop a sheer canyon wall, and you can see for miles. It’s a popular spot for photographers, exceptionally breathtaking in the morning. I’ll never be able to drag Kaylee out of bed for sunrise, but it’s still pretty awesome right now at midday.

  As she takes in the view, I pull crackers from my pack, along with a soft-sided lunch tote that contains pepperoni, string cheese, and the little cans of apple juice that Kaylee has been addicted to for as long as I remember. It’s a simple lunch, easy to hike on.

  She turns, smiling. “Did you remember chocolate?”

  I produce a bag of homemade triple chocolate cookies.

  “You got your mom to make us cookies?” she asks with a surprised laugh.

  I shake my head. “No. I asked her for the recipe and made them myself.”

  Kaylee pauses, her hand halfway into the cooler. Slowly, she looks up. “You baked?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Are they safe to eat?” She flashes me a mischievous grin, raising her eyebrows.

  Lightly shoving her shoulder, I toss her one of the cookies. “You try them first. If you keel over, I’ll know not to eat one.”

  “Funny.” She takes a bite and then closes her eyes.

  “Are they good?”

  “No,” she mumbles, shoving the rest of the cookie in her mouth. “Give me the rest. I’ll eat them so you don’t have to.”

  “Nice try.”

  We finish lunch and hike around the rim for a little bit. Kaylee takes several pictures, but I just watch her, more content than I’ve felt in a long time.

  It was never this easy with Ava, never this comfortable.

  When we make it back to the Jeep, I open Kaylee’s door. She sits in the seat, facing out, leaving her legs hanging over the side.

  I lean close. “Well? What do you think? Did I redeem myself?”

  “That depends,” she says softly, cocking her head to the side. “Are you going to freak out the minute you kiss me?”

  “Let’s find out.” I close the distance between us, resting my hand on the doorframe.

  I press a kiss to her lips, soft and quick. Then I back up just far enough I can look her in the eyes and pretend to think.

  After a moment, I say, “Nope. I feel fine.”

  She wraps her hand around the back of my neck and pulls me down for another kiss. “We better try again, just in case.”

  “Mmm,” I murmur. “Definitely.”

  28

  “Well?” June nervously pushes her reading glasses back on her head and lowers the printout containing her presentation speech. “What do you think?”

  “It was great,” I assure her, though I know she’s going to stress no matter what I say.

  I’m driving her to the airport tomorrow, and from there, she’ll fly to Denver for the conference.

  “Have you finished packing?” I ask her.

  “Just about.” She looks around the shop as if worried we forgot something.

  We’ll be closed for a week, and I know she’s anxious about it.

  “I think—” June’s cell rings, interrupting her. “Hey, Alisha,” she says when she answers. “I’m trying to finish up here. Can I call you back this evening? Love you too. Drive careful.”

  She finishes the call and turns back to me.

  “What was I saying?” she asks.

  I shrug, not sure what else we can do. We used up as much of our inventory as possible, and June sent the last of our premade arrangements to one of the local nursing homes and asked the employees to give them to residents who needed a little color in their rooms.

  The wooden floors have been swept, and I’ve wiped down all the counters, coolers, and glass cabinets.

  It looks weirdly empty in the shop—the room is sad and lonely without the bright arrangements making things cheery. I remind myself that all the color will return as soon as we reopen next Monday.

  “That was Alisha?” I ask. “Are they on their way back to Sacramento?”

  I can’t remember where they went this time, but it seems they’d barely gotten back from Florida before they took off again.

  June nods. “They just landed in Los Angeles. She said they decided to drive home tonight instead of staying the night.
”

  “You never mentioned how they liked their cage diving trip.”

  My boss rolls her eyes, but she’s smiling. “They loved it, of course.”

  I shudder at the thought, knowing it’s not something I want to try. Ever.

  “I think we’re done here.” June shakes her head, frowning at the empty space. “I hate seeing it like this.”

  “Me too,” I say.

  She looks at me. “If I’m invited back next year, I’d like you to run the shop while I’m gone.”

  “Really?” I ask, surprised.

  “You could do it in your sleep,” she says. “I thought about asking you this year, but I didn’t want to ruin your trip with Kyle.”

  I fight a grin, but it wins. Kyle and I have officially been “Kyle and I” for several weeks now, and it’s so natural, I almost can’t believe it. It’s like we’ve been dating for years.

  Savannah is so tired of us; she throws pillows our way and makes gagging noises when we all watch movies at the house. I’d say she’s secretly jealous, but she doesn’t try to hide it. I have no clue when she’d find time to date anyway. She’s either at her part-time retail job, driving to Flagstaff for the weekend rehearsals, or on the couch with her nose in her script. She’ll be moving to the actors’ lodging in April when the daily rehearsals start.

  I’m going to miss her something awful.

  “I’ll pick you up tomorrow at three,” I promise June when we reach our cars.

  I text Kyle to let him know I’m heading to my house. He had two back-to-back tours today, and I doubt he’s returned to the office yet. If I’m lucky, he’ll get off before dinner. Otherwise, I’ll have to wait until tomorrow to see him.

  After that, however, I get him for a straight week.

  I finish packing for our trip when I get home. We have to hike into the yurt, and there’s still snow in Flagstaff. I pack several sweaters and the single pair of thermals I own. About the time I’m finishing up, Savannah walks through the door, calling that she’s home.

  “Hey,” I say, greeting her in the living room.

  “I’m starving.” She immediately kicks off her heels and wanders into the kitchen, looking for food. “Is there any of the lo mein left?”

  “No, but I think there might be some of the beef and broccoli and a little of the sweet and sour chicken.”

  “What are you doing for dinner?” she asks, poking her head in the fridge. “Is Kyle coming over?”

  “He wants to try the new place on Hillington, so we might do that if he gets home early enough.”

  She makes a sound in the back of her throat. There’s some secret meaning behind it, but for the life of me I can’t figure out what. Finally, I ask, “What was that for?”

  “Nothing.” She sniffs the container of beef and broccoli as if checking to make sure it’s still good even though it’s only from last night.

  “That wasn’t a nothing grunt.” I sit at a barstool and watch her pull a plate from the cabinet.

  She dumps the slightly gelatinous, not-at-all-appetizing-when-cold food on her plate. “No, nothing. Really. I skipped lunch, so I’m just grouchy.”

  I wait, staring her down, knowing she’ll tell me eventually.

  “Fine,” she says with a sigh, turning back to me as she waits for the microwave to finish. “It’s just that you’re going to the new place Kyle wants to try. Everything you do is for Kyle. It’s like you’re still stuck on the list.”

  I open my mouth and then shut it again. I expected her to be grumpy that she’s single—I was preparing to comfort her with the whole “you’ll find the right guy when it’s time” speech. This, however, takes me by complete surprise.

  “We do not,” I finally say.

  She raises a blonde brow, challenging me.

  I think back to everything Kyle and I have done in the last few weeks. We went four-wheeling a few more times, took the bikes out, and went on a double date with Daniel. We’ve eaten so many burgers, Brussels sprouts are starting to sound pretty darn good.

  I only had takeout with Savannah last night because Kyle had to work late.

  “I just think you got so consumed with making Kyle happy, you’ve forgotten that it’s important to do what Kaylee wants to do too.”

  “Are you saying Kyle is my Ava?” I say, aghast.

  The microwave goes off, and she stirs the food on her plate and sticks it back in for another minute. “I guess I am.”

  Is it true? Have I worked so hard to make Kyle happy that our relationship is one-sided?

  “I like Kyle—you know that. I’m just saying he needs to do something for you occasionally.” She takes her plate to the table, leaving me in the kitchen.

  Her words circle in my mind, making me question everything we’ve done not only in the last few weeks, but in the last several months as well.

  Kyle calls at five to nine. “Hey,” he says when I answer. “My ride went long. Do you want me to come by tonight, or should we meet in the morning?”

  “You’re probably tired,” I say. “We can wait until morning.” Then, as a last-minute thought, I tack on, “I thought we could go to the bagel shop on Canyon Rim?”

  I am well aware that Kyle hates bagels—he says they taste like stale, chewy donuts.

  “Really?” he says, sounding about as enthusiastic as I expect. “How about we go to Beverly’s instead?”

  My first impulse is to agree—that’s what I always do, and I don’t mind. But what if Savannah is right? What if Kyle is my Ava? What if I want him to like me so badly, I bend over backward to make him happy?

  “I really want a bagel,” I say, coaxing him nicely.

  “How about this. You and Savannah get bagels, and then I’ll meet you after you drop June off at the airport.”

  I figured he’d suck it up, so I’m surprised he shot it down entirely.

  “But then I won’t see you until evening,” I point out.

  “I can fix that,” he says. “I’ll come over tonight, just for a little bit. Have you eaten? Do you want me to grab something?”

  We talk for a few minutes longer and then hang up. Savannah wanders into the living room, blowing on her nails like she’s waiting for polish to dry.

  “Kyle won’t go to the bagel shop with me in the morning,” I tell her.

  She gives me a funny look. “I’m…sorry?”

  “What if you’re right?”

  “Oh.” Understanding dawns on her face. “I am right.”

  “He hates bagels though,” I say reasonably. “He always has.”

  She shrugs and then walks back to her room. “And Ava hates bacon.”

  By the time Kyle shows up, I’m nervous. Not so nervous that I’m questioning everything about our relationship. More like mildly uneasy.

  “Hi,” Kyle says when I answer the door, giving me a quick greeting kiss. “Sorry it took so long. I stopped for bagels.”

  “You…what?” I ask.

  He carries the few bags he’s holding into the kitchen. “Well, you want bagels, and I want to have breakfast with you, so I figured if I bought the bagels, I could still see you in the morning. So that’s what I did.”

  “What are you going to eat?” I ask.

  He holds up the other bag. “Donuts, obviously.”

  “You made a special trip just for me?”

  “Yeah.” He flashes me a look like it’s not a big deal. “If you want to eat the nasty cardboard things, then I will buy you the nasty cardboard things.”

  I laugh to myself, feeling a little bad for doubting him—but it’s probably a natural product of being the second most important girl in his life for so long. There’s still a little niggling doubt that he means more to me than I mean to him, but I choose to ignore it. Instead, I fist my hand in his shirt and pull him in for a kiss.

  “You must really like bagels,” he teases, his breath tickling my lips.

  “I was worried you were my Ava,” I tell him.

  He gives me a strange l
ook.

  I let go of his shirt, releasing him. “Never mind.”

  “No, no,” he says, tugging me back. “What does that mean?”

  It’s embarrassing, and it might upset him, but it’s probably worth mentioning.

  “I’ve been so worried about making sure you get to do the things you want to do, I started to wonder if…” I shrug, not sure how to finish.

  He smiles and steps closer. “I get it.”

  I shrug, feeling stupid for saying it out loud.

  “Maybe we should make you a list,” he quietly teases, his tone gentle and warm. “20 Things Kaylee Can Do Now That She’s Dating Kyle.”

  “Don’t you think that’s a little wordy?”

  He chuckles and wraps his arms around my waist. “Just tell me it won’t have art galleries on it.”

  “Nah. More like garden festivals and chick flicks.”

  Kyle grimaces, but he nods.

  “Oh, and I want to go to Savannah’s Renaissance faire.”

  “You’re cruel, Kaylee Cameron,” he whispers into my ear, his tone deep and inviting. “But I’m serious. Make your list—I’ll do anything you want.”

  “Anything?” I smirk. “You’ll watch Jane Austen with me?”

  Instead of answering, he laughs.

  My phone rings as I’m tilting my head up for another kiss.

  “It’s June,” I say when I pull the cell from my pocket, concerned because it’s already after nine. “She never calls this late. That’s weird.”

  Kyle steps back, giving me room to answer.

  “Hey,” I say into the phone. “Did we forget something?”

  “Kaylee…” She sounds horribly shaken up.

  “What’s wrong?” I demand. “Are you okay?”

  “There was an accident.” She draws in a gasping breath. “The car rolled.”

  “Where are you?” Terrified, I’m already running for my purse. “I’m on my way. Just tell me where to go.”

  Kyle is on my heels, and he’s pulling out his keys, offering to drive.

  “Not me,” she manages. “Alisha.”

  29

  The last twelve hours have been the worst in my life. Yesterday evening, about two hours before June was notified, Alisha, her husband, and Megan were hit by a drunk driver going down the wrong side of the interstate. Their car rolled three times before it came to a stop in the median.