Heartless King

by Hughes, Maya

  “There will come a time that you push people who care away too hard, and you’ll have to deal with the consequences.” She took off, leaving me standing there on the curb, the door closed by the force of her acceleration, staring after her retreating car.

  18

  Imo

  “We’d love to have you down for an interview sometime next week. Are you sure you want to leave Philadelphia for our location? I’m sure you get much more interesting patients up there.”

  I closed the break room door. Times like these I wished I had an actual office, but at the Speedman Clinic I’d have one and possibly my own practice less than fifteen minutes from The Surf Shack.

  “I have family down there, so it’s closer to them.” Becca hadn’t been coming back as much since she’d started grad school. Fern and Charlie needed my help even more. That had always been the plan—to move down there and help them with the restaurant. A hold over plan from before, but leaving that behind cratered a pit in my stomach.

  “If you’re sure.” The woman on the other end of the line didn’t seem even fifty percent sure.

  “Completely sure. Let me know the time and date and I’ll be there.”

  After finishing the call, I slipped my phone into my pocket and walked out of the room and directly into a human wall. Ready to lay into the guys for showing up at my job again, I set my face to scowl and my finger to admonishment.

  Strong hands grabbed my arms to right me. “Sorry, Imogen. I didn’t think you’d come barreling out of there like there was a fire.” He tilted to the side and peered into the break room. “There isn’t a fire, is there?” The kind crinkle to the familiar blue eyes evaporated the irritation in my stance.

  “No, there’s no fire. What are you doing here, Reed?”

  He dropped his hands from my arms. “I’m here to see you.”

  “You’re back on my roster? I thought we got everything squared away.” I walked to the intake station, scanning my files.

  “No, I’m fit as a fiddle.” He hit his stomach and the resounding smack certainly pointed in that direction.

  “Okay, I’m confused. Why are you here to see me? No flare ups or other issues?” Reed was a firefighter who’d ended up on my client list after a two story fall while fighting an apartment building fire earlier in the year.

  His mouth opened and closed and opened again with a low sound coming out. He tapped his fist against his open palm, then wiped them on his pants.

  “If it’s something you want to talk to a male physio—”

  He shrugged with his palms out. “I’m here to ask you out.”

  Stunned, I exhaled a huh.

  “I’ve wanted to for a long time, but I didn’t want to do it while we were working together and make things weird. But now that I’m one hundred percent and I’ve got the okay to head back to the firehouse, I didn’t want to miss my chance to take you out, if you’re interested.”

  My lips pinched together at the unmistakable squeaking of roller chairs being repositioned for the show. I wasn’t going to look at them and give them the satisfaction of knowing I knew they were listening.

  “That’s very sweet of you and I’m glad to hear you’ll be back on duty. I know you were worried, but I told you you’d get there. You put in the work and look at you now.”

  “I can tell by how you’re avoiding my question what the answer is.”

  “My side step was that subtle, huh?”

  The corners of his eyes crinkled again. He was a teddy bear of a guy, always up for whatever I threw at him and never fought getting back on his feet, unlike another client I’d been dealing with lately.

  “It’s okay, I won’t make you say it. No one can say I didn’t give it a shot?”

  This was the second person I’d run from in the past forty-eight hours, but this one didn’t deserve it. Peeling away from Colm’s house as he stood glowering at me hadn’t been one of my proudest moments. There was a chasm between us and I didn’t know if I wanted to throw a bridge to get to the other side, if all he wanted to do was hack away at the ropes every time I tried. Did I want to bridge the gap? What did that even mean? Being his friend? Being something more? Other than his ‘in my face’—literally most of the time, erections, he didn’t do much other than bark and snipe at me like an abandoned dog.

  “They can’t. I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be. I brought a lemon Bundt cake I baked. Have a great day, ladies.” He waved and walked away.

  “And he bakes?! Are you out of your mind? How could you not say yes?” Cecily stared at me in disbelief.

  “I’m—”

  “If you say busy, I’ll scream. You’re not busy, you’re pathologically averse to fun. Who else picks up extra shifts like she’s not working a second job an hour and a half away?”

  “I’m finished for the summer.”

  “Bull-freaking-shit. What’s wrong with you? All these hotties that march in here looking for some Imogen loving and you walk away like they’re door-to-door salesmen trying to sell you a vacuum.”

  “I do not. I’m just not up for dating anyone right now.”

  “How about banging someone? When was your last date? When did you last get laid? There’s going to be cobwebs and moths down there, honey.”

  “I—” My night with Colm had been the last time I’d slept with anyone. The last time I’d even felt like I could sleep with anyone. He made me want it. He made me want him. Like dusting off an old album you’d thought was scratched and ruined, but it played just right when you set the needle down. And now he hated me—or if he didn’t, he was doing an exceptional job of pretending.

  Working with him was harder than I expected. I was affected by him in a way I’d thought had been a one-time deal. A night of craziness, but now it was spilling over into my days. The rest of the day passed without any more date invitations, but even more glowering from Cecily. What would she say if she knew I’d gone home with the guy from the bar that night?

  The afternoon slipped by in a flurry of paperwork, free weights and padded physiotherapy tables.

  My phone buzzed in my bag on my way out to my car. The screen lit up with Fern’s name. I jabbed ‘accept’ and shoved the phone up to my ear. “Fern, what’s going on? Is everything okay?”

  “Calm down, Imogen. Everything’s fine. We’re in the city for a meeting and wanted to take you out to dinner. Are you home?”

  “No, I’m not there yet. I’m just leaving work.”

  “You’re just leaving now? So late?”

  “Some of my appointments ran over.” And I’d taken over half the shift of one of the physiotherapists who’d had to leave early because her kid was sick.

  “I can meet you. Just give me the address.”

  Finding a spot a block away from the Italian restaurant, Tavola, I stepped out of the car and zipped up my jacket. The month was cooling off quicker than usual. It would be a rough winter.

  Walking inside, I waved to Fern and Charlie and slipped past the hostess. The two were already seated at a table.

  “Why didn’t you guys tell me you were coming in? I’d have made reservations for us.” I picked up the menu.

  “We can handle a dinner reservation on our own.” Fern patted my hand.

  “How are you? You look tired.” Charlie peered at me over his menu, earning a swat from Fern.

  “You never say that to a woman,” Fern chided.

  “It’s true. She looks like she’ll fall face first into her pasta, if we keep her up too late.” He winked at me.

  I laughed and went back to scanning the menu. “It’s been a busy few weeks.”

  “And here we thought you’d get a break once the summer was over.” Fern sipped her water and stared at me with concern in her eyes.

  “How are the repairs and refurbishment going?”

  “The usual. Contractors are doing their best to slow things down, but everything is moving along.” Charlie slipped his reading glasses into his jacket.

&nb
sp; “What meeting were you at up here?”

  “It was a meeting with a developer, actually.”

  My hand slipped off my glass of water, nearly toppling it over. “Developer.”

  “Remember, we said some people were poking around over the summer? They wanted us to come up to a meeting and we wanted an excuse to see you, so we decided to come.”

  “How did the presentation go?”

  “They’re not the right people to take over the Shack.” Fern looked up from her menu.

  Relief washed over me and I could breathe again.

  “I won’t say it wasn’t tempting, but we’ve put a lot of work into that place.”

  “I know you two are stressed about handling things on your own, so I wanted to let you know I’m interviewing for a position at the Speedman Clinic that’s opening next year.”

  “You’d want to leave Philly?” Fern looked shocked and a touch sad.

  “It’s closer to the shore. Closer to you two, if you needed anything.”

  “Don’t uproot yourself just for us.”

  “There’s not much to uproot.” I smiled and shrugged. “It’s just me.”

  The two of them exchanged looks. Our server came and took our orders, and we moved on to chatting about plans for next summer, whether they were going to do their road trip, and when Becca would be back in town.

  “If we’re lucky, we’ll get her to come for Thanksgiving. She’s being stubborn about the flights and she doesn’t want us to pay for them.”

  “She’ll find a way.”

  The food was divine. Everything was fresh and flavorful. I packed away way more than I should have. It took all my willpower not to lick the alfredo sauce off the plate. So tempting. The server had had to practically peel my fingers off the dish as I’d reached up to mop up the last of the sauce with my bread when he’d removed my plate.

  “Seems you were hungry.” Charlie finished his coffee.

  I polished off the slice of tiramisu Fern and I had shared. “I guess I was. My appetite has been all over the place lately, maybe this was my body resetting.”

  Fern rested her hand against my cheek as we stood outside the restaurant.

  “You need more rest.”

  “I know. I swear, I’m getting good sleep. I’m not partying.”

  Her lips pursed and I could tell she wanted to launch into a mom monologue. Not that I would’ve been upset to get one, but all that pasta had sent me hurtling toward hibernation.

  “As soon as I get home, it’s straight into the shower and then bed for me. Don’t worry. You two have a safe drive back. I swear, I’m fine.”

  She hugged me. “You know we worry.”

  “I know. I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be sorry. No amount of reassurance will ever keep even that tiny hint of worry away. It’s life in the big city, kid.” Charlie hugged me and ruffled my hair.

  “Drive safely and drop us a message once you get home.”

  “I will.”

  The drive to my place didn’t take long. Once I was locked inside, I did exactly as I’d told them and crawled into bed with my hair still wet.

  The more time I spent with Colm, the more vivid my dreams were. He was getting harder to resist, and his surly brooding did little to stop the magnetized attraction I hadn’t been able to shake. But Colm was a problem that I’d have to deal with tomorrow, because tonight, I needed sleep.

  After a quick text to Fern, I pulled the sheets up and let sleep claim me within seconds. There was no time to think of Colm or anything else except for the dreams.

  19

  Colm

  I stood outside of the rink with my arms locked across my chest. “What was our deal?”

  She looked at me over the roof of the car. “You said no ice.”

  “I meant no skates. No rink.”

  “Specifics are important. Let’s go.” She cocked her head toward the nondescript white block building. “Or are you afraid the hobo chic look you’ve got going on will get too mussed?”

  “I didn’t even know these places still existed. The last time I was at one of these was Jenny Stevens’ twelfth birthday party.” I shoved sweaty palms into my pockets.

  The half derelict sign of Roll With It Skate World loomed overhead.

  “It’ll be fun.”

  I shot her a look.

  “It’s part of our agreed workout this week. How about that? You said do your worst, so it’s not like you didn’t ask for it.”

  My palms were sweaty and my stomach rolled with each step closer to the doors.

  I pulled open the door, and the pungent smell of middle school pepperoni pizza, worn leather, and feet hit me with a blast from the past. The crisp coldness and unmistakable hum of the Zamboni was absent. This wasn’t a hockey rink. No ice here. Tension melted away with only a small nudge of my gut, rather than the threatening dry heave that had been kicking at the back of my throat from the second I’d opened the car door. That counted as a step in the right direction.

  “You know what that smells like?” She turned to me with a wide smile. The corners of her eyes crinkled like she was a second from a laugh.

  More of the tension rolled off my shoulders. “Athlete’s foot and a Costco sized box of Pepto Bismol?”

  “Fun. Do you remember what that is?” She walked backward, beckoning me forward like she was pulling an imaginary rope.

  “Doesn’t ring any bells.” I crossed my arms over my chest.

  Her playfulness and wide smile were so different than most of the times I’d seen her before. She was usually more solemn, her small smile and low words meant to put everyone else at ease as she moved around the room checking in on them each in turn. Even that first time I’d seen her in the hospital, standing in front of Heath and Declan with her arm in a sling and a nasty bruise across her collarbone, she’d leaned in and whispered something to them that I couldn’t hear. But their eyes had widened and their choked laughter echoed in the sterile hallway.

  She was injured and she’d wanted to make them laugh. Our eyes had locked as she’d looked from side to side, probably checking for someone coming to bust them for having fun in a hospital.

  But this Imogen was different. Was this just how she was with all her clients? Loud and boisterous to help them feel less self-conscious? Or was this the real Imogen, with all the pain stripped away?

  “Let’s go.” She tugged on the sleeve of my shirt and I let her pull me along.

  We gave the bored teenager in the black and white striped ref shirt our shoe sizes and he handed us two pairs of thirty-year-old skates.

  I grabbed both sets of skates, clenching them in my hands to keep them from shaking. My lips and throat were dry. I felt like I hadn’t had a drink in days.

  “We’ll take it slow. I don’t expect you to do any grapevines out there.”

  “Wow, I haven’t heard that one in a long time.” Some of the tension eased out of my grip. It wasn’t until then that I felt Imogen tugging at her pair of skates.

  “Sit.” She patted the spot beside her on the molded bench with chipped orange coating.

  She nudged me, finishing up her laces. The disco lights whirled over the rink and top 40 hits from three decades ago blared through the sound system.

  “Let’s go, Frost. Get your ass out there.”

  “And when I bite it and fuck up my knee again, then I’ll finally catch a break?”

  “Says the trust fund baby with friends and family around him.”

  “With the dead parents.”

  “Ditto and throw in a dead fi—boyfriend to boot. You’re not milking the sympathy teat anymore. Get the hell up.” Her natural ease disappeared and her gaze narrowed.

  I glanced over my shoulder, expecting the bucket of ice water. “Let’s get this over with.”

  She ran me through exercises I didn’t even know were possible on skates. Again, she tested my balance with single leg movements made trickier by the weight of the roller skate.

&nbs
p; Sweat rolled down my back and I glared at her, equally sweaty, bent over and resting her hands on her knees.

  “Wasn’t there supposed to be some fun in there?”

  “You pissed me off, so there’s no fun right now.”

  “Listen, I’m sorry.” I skated closer, and she straightened, her defenses up.

  I grabbed my ear and tugged on the lobe. “I was an asshole earlier and I’m sorry. You’re only trying to help.”

  Her head jerked back like she’d expected me to knock her over instead of offering an apology.

  “Every time I try to talk to you a wall shoots up, except unlike other people’s walls it’s got rusty spikes with mangled corpses already impaled on them.”

  “That was vivid.”

  “You make an impression.”

  We slowly skated to the half wall around the rink, closer to the day-old popcorn and week-old pizza smell.

  “Did you ever think maybe taking the rest of the world on your shoulders is too much pressure for one person?” Imo cocked an eyebrow at me.

  “Have you? You’re here with me, right now, when you could be doing hundreds of other things.”

  She shrugged. “Not really. If I see a place where I can help, I can’t not do it.”

  I was a compulsion—her inability to walk away from a charity case, no matter how much of a lost cause. Was that the only reason she was here? “Why—”

  The doors to the rink burst open and three harried looking adults were followed in by a swarm of kids at least forty deep.

  “Field trip. Remember those days?” Imogen smiled at me, hopping up on the rink wall. A real smile this time, not the fake, polite one she’d perfected.

  “Those were great times. When the biggest worry was whether or not you’d get to sit next to your best friend or your crush on the bus.”

  “And you looked forward to pizza day like the best day ever.” Her gaze followed the kids as they streaked from the skate counter to the benches. “Things were so much easier back then.”

  The arrival of a squadron of middle schoolers sent the volume and energy through the roof. Every inch of the rink wall was taken over either by kids clomping in skates, or others whipping around like they’d been born wearing them. It was hard to remember being that young and full of energy. Imogen and I skated slowly, our workout finished, but for some reason we stayed, skating side by side and sometimes singing along with the songs. She knew all the words and so did I. It reminded me of that night on the beach. We could’ve stayed for hours going through track after track.