Heartless King

by Hughes, Maya

  I shuddered as I pulled a mystery item out of the couch cushions.

  “Is that food?” Imo took a step back from the warped, smooshed greenish brown thing in my hand.

  “Do you really want to know?” I chucked it into the trashcan beside me.

  “Good point. Wash your hands.”

  “What’s wrong? Worried you’ll catch something?” I flexed my fingers in her direction and was met with a smack from the towel she’d had slung over her shoulder. Before I could even think of retaliating, she’d sprinted halfway across the room.

  Next, we went through a mountain of mail the guys had set on and under the table by the door.

  “This one looks just like you.” She held up the last of the letters from an elementary school class. The figure on the page was either a lizard who’d taken up hockey, or a guy who needed a plastic surgeon asap.

  “Way to boost my confidence, Imo.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Like you don’t know you’re gorgeous.” Her hand froze midway to the trash pile.

  Gorgeous, hey?

  After I dried off and she’d shoved the mop into my hand, we’d kept our distance. Other than my vision being drawn to her ass every time she turned around, the elephant in the room had stayed safely tucked away. We hadn’t delved into what happened that night. Not into the way I’d broken down or we’d torn one another’s clothes off the second we fell over the threshold of the door. How I’d barely remembered to kick it shut to avoid giving the whole damn block a show and probably get me fined by the homeowners’ association. But that didn’t mean either of us had forgotten. It would’ve only be a matter of time before it would all come to a head.

  “I can always use a reminder.” I leaned closer.

  “Without your adoring fans screaming your name in stadiums all over the country, I’m sure you do.”

  “It’s not my life right now, is it?” My words shot out like acid.

  She jumped back like she’d been burned. “If we keep working, you’ll get there.”

  “I never said I wanted it. I want to do this to get everyone off my back and leave me alone.”

  “If you wanted people to leave you alone, you’d have stopped fighting your recovery a long time ago. All you’re doing is making it harder for the people you care about to help you.”

  “People I care about? People like my sister? People like Ford? Or were you talking about you? Was that night back in June your way of helping me?”

  “I wondered when you’d want to do this. Let’s do it right now.” She set the bottle of cleaner down and faced me. “Give it to me.” Her fingers motioned me forward.

  “Give what to you?”

  “Everything rushing through your head about that night and the next morning. I wanted to leave a note, but I couldn’t find anything to write on.”

  “We have these things called phones.”

  “And I didn’t have your number, even after knowing you for five years. I couldn’t call my phone from yours to get your number, since it was locked. I’d had a call from Preston’s parents about an emergency at the Shack, so I rushed out of here. By the time I dealt with that and could take a breath, I asked Emmett for your number.” Her gaze dropped to the floor. “But from what I pieced together, you were at the hospital by then.”

  Anger and sadness had been my companions that morning, even more than they had in the days after my blow up with Liv. It was part of the reason I’d gone after Ford. But Imo hadn’t run away not intending to look back after what had been one of the best nights of my life. Did that mean she’d wanted to continue things then?

  “You should’ve woken me up.”

  She toyed with her fingers. “Looking back, I can see that. And I’m sorry that you woke up and I wasn’t there.” Her head lifted and she peered up at me. “Haven’t you ever done something you wish you could take back?”

  My jaw clenched and I nodded. So many things. How different would my life be—would Liv’s life be—if I’d made different choices. Different demands to our parents. Different priorities when it came to playing pro. Different women I’d welcomed into my bed and my life.

  “I’ll show you a few exercises and then I’ll get out of your hair.”

  I opened my mouth, about to say “don’t, stay for a while,” but I swallowed the words back. Her apology didn’t mean anything had changed between us. For all I knew, the thing she wished she could take back was the whole night, not leaving me in the morning. Yeah. She probably wished she’d bypassed the bar that night and gone straight home. I’d have woken without a clue to where I was the following morning, and with an even bigger crater in my credit card.

  When we finished cleaning the rooms, the space felt lighter and brighter. Not that I expected Imo to be the candy striper of physiotherapists, but she knew her stuff. She hadn’t been patronizing, only gratingly, annoyingly right.

  She’d stuck to her word about what we’d be doing today. Part of the weight had been lifted by moving around and making this place look a bit more like it had before things fell apart. Like some things in the world could be put back to the way they should be. I stared down at my leg. Not me. But I could pretend while she was here. While she was here, there was the tiniest sliver, a barely there voice in the back of my head that whispered maybe…

  She walked me through a few exercises I could do to warm up my knee every day.

  “A job well done deserves a reward.” She pulled some drinks out of the fridge. “Perfect, they’re cold enough. Last time I was here, I noticed a particular slant to all the beverages in your fridge. I thought I’d mix it up.”

  Leaning against the counter, she held up her Root Beer and clinked it to mine. “How are you feeling?” She took a sip.

  My knee throbbed, but from disuse, not pain. This was the longest I’d been on my feet in a while, moving around, bending and stretching. “Is my knee supposed to be filled with pulsing fire like there’s a gremlin trying to rip it apart?”

  “What?” She slammed her can down and dropped in front of me, pushing me back so my ass rested against the stool at the kitchen island.

  “Where?” Her hands cradled my lower leg, running her fingers over my skin, tickling the hairs and sending wild thoughts of her on her knees doing way more than checking out my knee. “Is it tender here?” She applied gentle pressure, running her hand higher up the back of my bare leg to my thigh.

  Baseball. Praying mantises. Vatican City. Bailey with a pair of pliers.

  Only the distractions didn’t work and the obvious tent in my shorts became a mountain between us.

  Her hands froze. My shin was cradled in the valley of her breasts. My knee inches from her mouth and her fingertips halfway up my thigh.

  The tips of my ears were on fire, but I didn’t have the words for ‘sorry for my boner, but when you’re touching me like this my dick is going to take notice’.

  She hadn’t moved, still frozen on one knee with her hands on my leg.

  I choked down a moan when her fingers tightened a fraction of an inch.

  My erection stood proud between us like an oblivious tourist.

  “It was a joke.” The words were stilted and strained. I lifted a hand to touch her cheek.

  My words and movement broke her out of the deer in headlights impersonation.

  She cleared her throat, and shot back and up from the floor. “Glad to hear it. In that case, we’re done for the day.” She fumbled through three herky-jerky half steps in three different directions, her gaze bouncing everywhere but at me, before she found her target—her escape. “I’ll see you next week and I’ll email you some links to the exercises we went over today as a reminder.”

  Her bag was on her shoulder and she was out the door before I could utter thanks.

  Imogen was a dangerous element to introduce to my life.

  She made me feel whole when I wasn’t.

  She made me feel things were possible that weren’t.

  She made me want things I coul
dn’t have.

  16

  Imo

  “Look at you. Dropping by twice in less than six months. Has a planetary alignment hit or something?” Avery waved me through the double doors leading back to the heart of the bakery.

  “No, I had a couple clients cancel, so I wanted to stop by before I headed down the shore.”

  “So I’m just a time filler to you.” Her bottom lip quivered, but her eyes were all smiles.

  “Less time filler and more stomach filler. I’ve been craving everything you have out there in the cases. Are you sure they aren’t laced with anything?”

  “I’ll never tell,” she sing-songed, rounding the edge of the thick wood butcher’s block-style worktop.

  “How are you getting any work done with all these lights around here?” I stepped over the long cables and cords leading to the lights hanging over the counters and workbenches with bowls and baking trays stacked chest high.

  Avery wiped her hands on her apron. “It’s a bit more than I expected when we first arranged for all this, but there’s so little natural light back here that I have to deal with it if I don’t want to look like I’m a reanimated corpse.”

  “This stuff doesn’t get in the way?”

  “Oh yeah. But it’s only here one day out of the week. Jules will be by later today to do our filming. She’s so freaking cute, I can’t stand it. And talented! Taste this.”

  As with any visit to Bread & Butter, it wasn’t complete until Avery had shoved something into my mouth. But it was always worth it.

  “I need you to eat them. I’m a cookie away from slipping into a food coma and dying.” She laughed and I cringed.

  But I relaxed my shoulders once she carried on with her work. Whenever I was around the Kings and someone mentioned anything related to death, all eyes would swing to me as if waiting for me to burst into tears at any second.

  It was another reason I stayed away. I felt like a constant reminder of a terrible tragedy. And I almost felt the need to stay stuck, suspended in that grief stage because with their eyes on me, moving on felt like a betrayal. It got old. I shook my head and helped Avery move some of the trays to the large bakery rack.

  Going back to school for physiotherapy had at least been a way I could help people heal, even just strangers in need of someone to get them back on their feet. Once Fern and Charlie had pulled themselves out of their grief, I’d kept up the level of work I’d taken on right after Preston died, but now they didn’t need me as much.

  All the times they told me I didn’t have to come down over the summers hurt, like severing my connection to the life I’d had before. They were his family, but they would have been mine too when Preston and I got married. He’d always be their son and Becca’s brother, but who would I be to them? What happened when I eventually found someone to be happy with again? What did happiness even mean? And what happened if I lost it again?

  * * *

  “Summer season is officially finished.” Fern flopped into the chair, scooting it back from the table.

  Charlie flipped the sign to closed and joined us at the table.

  “At least you won’t have to make that long drive down anymore.”

  I smiled and nodded, stacking the napkins.

  “What’s up, Imogen? Everything okay?” Fern rested her hand on my forehead in a Mom move that nearly brought tears to my eyes. I missed my mom and my dad and Preston. And one day Fern and Charlie might feel weird about having their late son’s girlfriend hanging around, and then I’d be alone.

  Colm didn’t know how lucky he was to have people literally ready to beat down his door to look out for him. That was why my exits from his house were always so urgent. Too many feelings. Too many chances for a misstep—and, man, did I want to step out of line. But what happened to Fern and Charlie then? I couldn’t wander in and introduce them to my new boyfriend.

  Hi, I know your son is dead, but guess what? I’ve moved on. You may have been surrogate parents who took care of me once my parents were gone, but your son has been replaced.

  Colm wasn’t the first client I’ve had get an erection when we worked together, but he’s the first one I’ve wanted to do something about it with. But that couldn’t happen. If he’d wanted to pursue something with me, he wouldn’t have ignored my texts. He’d made it more than clear that he wanted nothing to do with me romantically, despite the way his body reacted to me. He hadn’t seen daylight in a month, he was just excessively horny. Any woman who’d touched him would have gotten the same reaction.

  Once he was out of this and back playing professionally, our sessions together would be forgotten. I’d found him as a wounded bird, and I’d rehab him and set him free.

  My baggage wasn’t light and I couldn’t expect anyone to carry it for me. He’d been through enough. More drama could derail him further. I’d keep it professional. No daydreaming about his hands around my waist with his lips on my neck and his cock sliding into me. A shiver tiptoed down my spine.

  “Their first offer was high, but this one was ridiculous.”

  That snapped me out of my thoughts. “Offer?”

  “He didn’t tell you?” Fern jerked her thumb at her husband of thirty-two years. “Some developer came around and made an offer on the Shack. Can you believe it?”

  A developer? Someone trying to buy the Shack? Knock it down and put up something sparkly and new. Panic seized my chest. “No, what did you say?”

  “We’ve had this place for so long, I don’t know what I’d do if we closed up shop. We figured we’d be working here and have our own reserved booth when you and Preston took it over.” Charlie got up and flipped his chair upside down on top of the table.

  Fern squeezed my hand across the table.

  “He left his card. I have a feeling he’ll be back.”

  “Once the summer season’s over all the people sniffing around back off. Not many people make it through the off season. I am looking forward to weekend breakfasts only. My old back isn’t what it used to be.” Charlie stretched up tall before bending back, popping it the whole way. “Ah, that’s the stuff.”

  “You know there are some exercises you could—” I laughed at his narrowed gaze. “Okay, no more advice.” Holding up my hands, I backed away.

  “Do you want to stay over or are you headed back?” He undid the apron around his waist.

  “Headed back. I’ll grab my coffee on the way and I have a full tank of gas, so I won’t need to stop.”

  “Be careful out there and call us when you get home.”

  “I always do.”

  We finished cleaning up for the night. Inventory and repairs would start next week—even with the bulk of the business being in the summer there was always more than enough to do year round.

  Tape for my eyelids would’ve been handy on the drive back to my apartment. A bigger part of me than I care to admit was okay with falling asleep in my car outside of my building. Dragging myself inside, I’d wanted to lie down on the floor and pass out there. This weekend hadn’t been that bad, so why was I dead on my feet?

  The drives must finally be getting to me. My shower ended with cold water blasting me on my back. Peeling my face off the tile wall, I rubbed at the imprints of the pattern on my cheek.

  I didn’t even dry my hair before falling into bed. The rat’s nest would be something Morning Imogen would have to deal with.

  * * *

  Next time I saw Night Imogen I’d punch her—hard. My hair had a weird, giant crimp to it that wouldn’t come out. It was a section that took to worming its way out of my ponytail and sticking straight out from the side of my head.

  It also brought on all the comments about how rough of a night I’d had with a few winks and nudges from my jerk co-workers.

  “Great session! Keep up your exercises and your progress will go even faster.” And the faster I finished this day, the faster I could get back into bed.

  My latest client gave me a chagrinned look.

  �
�We’ll get you back to marathons before you know it. I promise if you put in the work, it’ll happen.”

  “I’ll be sure to put in the time.”

  Standing by the desk, I scribbled down my notes on his chart. He’d made great progress and it would only be a matter of time before he was back to one hundred percent.

  Those were the cases that made my day fly by: the ones where I could get people back to where they’d been and even better, stronger and aware of what they needed to do to maintain their health in the long term. The others, where I had to look into someone’s eyes and tell them that this would be their new normal, that we were working to regain only a percentage of their old mobility, strength, or flexibility—those were rough.

  Change was hard. I leaned against the wall and closed my eyes, feeling like I was training for my own marathon.

  “Long day,” a voice came from my left.

  I snapped up, pushing off the wall and blinking my eyes like someone had flung a handful of sand into my face.

  “Were you sleeping against the wall?” Cecily uncapped her pen with her teeth.

  “What? No.” I dragged my hand over my face. “Just resting my eyes.”

  “That’s the third time this week. Maybe a vacation is in order. Tell your boyfriend not to keep you up so late at night.”

  I flung a stack of towels at her. “I don’t have a boyfriend. And if I went on vacation, who’d cover everyone when they were gone?”

  “We’d figure it out. Are you done for the day?”

  “My schedule is empty. I’m on paperwork duty.”

  “Hey, Imo.”

  I jumped, grabbing the front of my chest as my heart thundered at the sudden appearance of an entire human beside me in less than a second.

  “Jesus, Bailey. You scared the shit out of me. Where the hell did you come from?”

  Her eyes narrowed and her mouth pursed. “It’s a benefit of being so short. I’m not seen until I want to be seen. The guys let me know you’ve finally gotten through to Colm.”