Sweet Hearts (The Lindstroms Book 3)

by Katy Paige

  “Oh!” She stared at him, wide-eyed, then teary-eyed and he nodded at her, believing in her, but still hoping, still waiting to see if…

  “I love you too, Erik.”

  His eyes closed against the burn of tears, overcome by requited love, and he reached for her, pulling her into his arms, his beating heart brimming, abounding, replete.

  Chapter 17

  Leaving Katrin at her apartment to shower and tidy up, Erik turned out of her driveway to drive back up to the Triple Peak.

  Katrin had asked that he say goodbye to his father and brothers for her. They’d be off to an early start to make it back to Gardiner by lunchtime. He’d return to her as soon as he’d made his farewells, and promised to bring back some Swedish pastries for her breakfast too. The sun was shining and the sky was bright blue, like Katrin’s eyes.

  Erik was happy.

  He was relieved to know what really happened between his parents, and he found himself re-writing their history in his head, correcting misconceptions and understanding them more fully. He was relieved to be free, once again, to love and admire his Pappa without reserve. He wasn’t sure if he agreed with his mother’s dying request, but it would take time for him to process the entire story, and a lifetime of living and loving to truly understand it. For now, he was just relieved that his father was recovered to him.

  He’d made love to Katrin one last time before he got dressed to go, reveling in the freedom of telling her he loved her over and over again, and hearing the same words on her lips, like a mantra, a prayer. How he had ever lived, breathed, eaten, slept…without her in his life was a mystery.

  The thought of being apart now plagued him, as commitment once had. Katrin seemed to know it was bothering him. Before he left her, she had cupped his face and held his eyes, repeating her words from last night, “We’ll figure it out, love. I promise.”

  Even with her reassurance, he felt an urgency to settle “what happens next” before they returned north this evening, and it was bewildering, unfamiliar terrain for Erik, who had never wanted “next” in his entire life. He assessed the options, and there were no great ones presenting themselves. Living in her tiny, shared apartment was not a good solution. For one, they’d have no privacy, and moreover, they’d have no room. But, he also didn’t like the idea of her sharing his apartment in Kalispell, which would mean her driving back and forth to Skidoo Bay three hours every day, and living in an unfamiliar place without any friends, which bothered him in light of the irregular hours he often had to work during the week.

  We’ll figure it out. He thought of her face, heard her voice telling him that she loved him, and a peace came over him. Of course they would figure things out. They loved each other, and they’d find a way. He simply had to trust that, believe in it. The hard part was over.

  With a full heart, he stepped on the gas, anxious to say goodbye to his family so he could return to his love.

  ***

  Katrin pulled on her favorite jeans and a pink short-sleeved polo shirt, inspecting herself in the mirror and slipping her phone into her back pocket. Her wet hair was piled on her head, wrapped in a towel that looked like a turban, and her feet were bare. She felt like she should look different, changed somehow after sleeping with Erik, telling him she loved him, hearing that he loved her back. But it felt even more right that she still looked like herself. The only thing that had changed was her heart, and maybe her smile. Yes, she thought, smiling at herself in the mirror, her smile was definitely different. Her smile was in love.

  She pulled the towel off her head, drying the ends of her hair, then hung it on the back of the bathroom door and took out her hairdryer. Right before she plugged it in, she heard a light tapping at her door.

  Erik…are you back for one more kiss?

  Her phone vibrated in her back pocket as she crossed her apartment and she reached for it, distractedly, as she opened the door.

  Ing. She pressed talk on her phone, looking up smiling, ready for one more kiss.

  She dropped the phone.

  It wasn’t Erik at her door.

  ***

  Erik’s phone buzzed beside him, and he glanced down to see who was calling. Hmm. Kristian. He pressed the Bluetooth button in his car.

  “Hello?”

  “ERIK!”

  “Kristian?”

  “Erik, where are you? Where’s Katrin?” Kristian’s voice was urgent, frantic.

  “I’m headed up to the Triple Peak. She’s at her place. What’s going on?”

  “Is she alone?”

  “Y-Yeah.” He could hear the panic in Kristian’s voice, too, and it made his blood run cold.

  “Turn around. Turn around now and go back to her place, Erik. NOW!”

  Without thinking, Erik jerked the wheel to the left and flipped his car around, almost colliding with oncoming traffic, as he pointed himself back south toward Choteau.

  “Kristian, what is going on?”

  “Stay calm, Erik, okay? You’ve got to get there in one piece. Just…go to her place.”

  “Tell me what the hell is going on!”

  “Ingrid got a call a few minutes ago from Wade’s parents. He left the facility at some point early this morning. He wasn’t in his room at wake-up and they searched everywhere for him. Finally they called his parents to see if he had shown up there. He hadn’t. Mrs. Doyle called Ingrid, and Ingrid immediately called Kat. Kat’s phone answered the call, but then she heard a loud noise, and the phone went dead. You’ve got to get back there. We called the police, but they’re seven minutes out. How about you?”

  “I don’t know. Five minutes maybe. I just left her.” Erik slammed on the gas again, thinking of his keyed car, the white roses in Skidoo, the pile of bottles in Katrin’s back yard. She was in danger, and he loved her, which made him terrified.

  “I’m going to hang up now and get in the car. I’m on my way. Erik?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Do whatever it takes,” Kristian urged him.

  “You know I will.”

  ***

  Wade snatched up her phone and threw it against the wall, smashing it. Katrin raced to the kitchen, yanking the butcher knife from the block just as he caught her around the waist, pinning her arms to her sides. He shoved her against the counter, slamming her arm into the sharp edge of the counter over and over. Pain shot up into her shoulder and the knife clattered to the floor.

  Up to now, Katrin had reacted to Wade, not thinking, not feeling anything other than the visceral scramble to find a weapon and protect herself. As Wade leaned down to pick up the knife, a deep, nightmarish terror started unraveling inside of her. Her chest heaved up and down with the force of her breathing, and the relentless pain her arm was an agony, making her feel dizzy.

  Katrin faced Wade, trapped between him and the counter, cradling her arm.

  “Wade, I’m hurt. I think you broke my arm.”

  “YOU’RE HURT?” He slashed at the air in front of her to emphasize his words. “I came here with FLOWERS for you, for my fiancée, for my girlfriend, and you tried to get a KNIFE, you BITCH!”

  “Wade.” She spoke slowly, gently, her heart pounding uncomfortably as she tried to remain calm. “You hurt my arm. I need to go to the hospital, Wade. I think it’s broken.”

  “My heart is broken, whore,” he whispered, looking dazed.

  Katrin clenched her teeth at the pain shooting up and down her arm. Her fingers were as cold as ice.

  Is he drunk or sober? He wasn’t slurring his words, and his movements were crisper than they would be if he were drunk. But he seemed unfamiliar to her: unpredictable, distracted, paranoid. He lowered the knife, and Katrin’s eyes followed it to where it hung, still a threat, by his side.

  “Wade,” she started softly. “Why don’t we talk? W-we could sit down and—”

  His eyes blazed. “Talk?”

  Katrin shrunk back against the counter, covering her injured arm with her good one. Wade lunged at her and grabb
ed a handful of her damp hair, winding it once around his hand then yanking roughly. He pulled out one of her kitchen chairs and clumsily pushed her into it.

  “Great. Let’s talk,” he said, gesturing with the knife and almost grazing her nose with the tip. “Talk, talk, talk, talk, talk. Talk, slut! Tell me why my fiancée is screwing a police officer!”

  Suddenly, his face was wiped of fury, and he looked around her apartment as if he had forgotten something. His gaze stopped at the bouquet of white roses that he’d dropped on the floor. Leaning forward, Wade touched her chin with the tip of the knife, jabbing once meaningfully. “Don’t move, kitten.”

  She could feel the warm ooze of blood seep out on her chin as he stepped across the room to grab the bouquet. Frantically trying to figure out what to do while his back was turned, she realized her options were limited. Her arm was broken, plus Wade was much bigger and armed.

  He knelt before her, offering her the wilted bouquet, which she accepted with the trembling hand of her good arm.

  “These were for you. For my love. For my little wife at Midsummer. I knew you’d come home.”

  Tears coursed down her face, but she tried not to make a sound. Please help. Someone please help.

  “Stop crying!” he screamed, springing up.

  His face a mask of fury, he drew back his hand to hit her. When it made contact with her face, she screamed, her head snapping back from the force of the blow. Stars exploded behind her eyes. Her face was on fire.

  “S-Stop, Wade. P-P-Please…”

  “P-P-Please,” he mimicked her. “That’s not enough, Kat. Not nearly enough. What else do you need to say to me, whore?”

  “I’ve been very bad,” she sobbed, hoping this is what he needed to hear. “I-I’ve hurt you and I’m s-so s-sorry. We can be together now, Wade. Now I s-see how much you love me.”

  “When I saw you kissing him at Flathead, I wanted to die.” Wade knelt on the floor beside her and put his head in her lap, on top of her injured arm, which made her gasp from a sharp, new wave of pain. He stroked her thigh beside his head, his hand moving higher and higher. A sick feeling made her stomach flip over. Oh, no, Wade. No. Not that.

  He leaned back, smiling up at her. “Remember that night we did it on the football field? Remember how good I made you feel?”

  She tried not to grimace with the force of her revulsion. Swallowing to keep from heaving, she nodded at him. “I-I remember. But, Wade, we have to…to take it s-slow…to get to know each other again. It’s been—”

  “Did you take it slow with him? Whore!”

  He stood up and she didn’t have time to shield her face before the back of his hand smacked her face again at full force. When Katrin’s head snapped back this time, she didn’t lean forward. She just let her head loll back on her neck.

  Her lip must have split because she tasted blood in her mouth, warm and metallic. Trying to adjust to and accept the burning pain in the side of her face, she looked out the window behind her. Blue Sky. Puffy white clouds. Bright sun. It made her think of yesterday, of Erik.

  “I drove to see you! I brought you flowers! I waited for you all day, for what? For what? To see him arrive at your door! How long were you cheating on me? How long…?”

  He ranted and raved about her infidelity, waving the knife around, but Katrin stopped listening, tears snaking down her cheeks as she leaned her head forward slowly. Taking a quick inventory of her battered body, the news wasn’t good. My arm is broken. My lip is split. My right eye is almost swollen shut. She let her head fall forward in defeat, her chin touching her chest as more tears spilled from her eyes.

  No one is coming. No one is coming to save you.

  You’re going to die here.

  He’s going to kill you.

  She pictured Erik’s face in her mind and focused on it as hard as she could. As soon as Wade finished his tirade, he would plunge that knife in her chest or neck, but when he did, she thought with the tiniest shred of defiance, she would die thinking of Erik. She searched her mind for Erik’s voice, his beloved voice, telling her that he loved her, telling her that he never wanted to wake up without her again.

  Tears streamed down her face in silent rivulets, mixing with blood before plopping in garish red drops on her once pristine, pink polo shirt.

  “Katrin! Kat!”

  At first, she thought it was in her mind.

  “Katrin! I’m coming!”

  Then, she realized, through a fog of pain and self-imposed mental escape, Erik was screaming her name.

  She opened her left eye to see Wade being jerked backward by an almost inhuman force. One second he was standing in front of her, knife raised, the next he wasn’t.

  She turned her head, slowly, painfully, to see Wade stagger to his feet in her living room and lung toward Erik with the knife high. Erik lowered his head and barreled into Wade’s chest like a bull, knocking him into the wall by her sofa.

  The knife clattered to the ground as Erik leaned back to right himself, snarling at Wade. His hand shot to Wade’s neck, holding him against the wall. Veins bulged in Erik’s arm and neck as he choked the life out of Wade Doyle. Even through puffy, swollen eyes, Katrin could see the white knuckles of Erik’s hand, the stark terror on Wade’s face.

  “Stop!” she screamed from her chair, so weak and light-headed she was barely able to stand up. “Erik, stop!”

  Erik turned to her as if seeing her for the first time. His face contorted in pain and he loosened his grip on Wade’s neck.

  “Aw, Kat,” Erik sobbed, his voice raw and breaking. From the horror on his face, Katrin realized how bad she must look.

  With Erik distracted, Wade pushed forward.

  As Erik stumbled back, Wade leaned down to grab the knife.

  “Watch out!” she screamed.

  Erik turned just in time to grab Wade’s wrist, struggling for a moment before bending it backward with a revolting snap. The knife fell to the floor once again, while Wade’s wrist hung limply at an unnatural angle. Erik kicked the knife away and pushed Wade into the wall where he slumped slowly to the ground, curling up in a ball, cradling his wrist and sobbing.

  “It’s only because I love her…I love her…I love her…”

  Erik squatted down in front of Wade, grabbing his chin in a vise-grip and making Wade look at him. “Well, she doesn’t love you. It’s over. Do you understand me? Over. And here’s the only warning you’re ever going to get: If you ever come near her again, I will kill you.”

  Katrin heard the sirens in the distance as Erik crossed the room in giant strides. She stood up weakly, but Erik scooped her up into his arms, cradling her gently. Without looking back, he headed out the door and down the stairs, leaving a crumpled Wade behind.

  ***

  Erik looked down at Katrin’s hand in his, stroking it gently as he sat beside her on the short ambulance ride to the hospital. He couldn’t bear to look at her face, the blood and bruises reminding him that he had failed her.

  There was so much he wanted to say—I’m sorry I left you, I’m sorry I was late, I’m sorry I didn’t protect you, I’d rather die than lose you—but he didn’t trust himself to speak. He didn’t trust himself to form the words without trembling, or worse, sobbing, with latent fear and guilt and fury. So he stared at her small, pale hand, holding it gently but firmly in his, too overwhelmed to say anything at all.

  “Do you want the doctors to check that bruise on your face?”

  The medic repeated himself twice before Erik realized that she was speaking to him. “N-no. Worry about her. I’m fine.” I didn’t get there in time. I didn’t get there in time.

  “When we get there, they’ll need to check her out in one of the examination rooms. You won’t be able to go with her, Mr. Lindstrom, but we’ll come find you once the doctor gives us the okay,” the medic said as they pulled up in front of the hospital.

  Erik flinched, hating that he was going to have to let her out of his sight even for a moment. Pa
nic rose up in him as he looked down at her face.

  Her worried blue eyes, one swollen nearly all the way shut, looked up to capture his and her thumb dusted his palm soothingly. “I’ll be okay. Don’t worry. It’s okay now.”

  As they opened the back doors of the ambulance, he touched his lips to her left cheek gently and whispered, “I love you.”

  She had tried to smile back at him, but winced with the pain in her face, managing a soft “I love you, too,” before they pulled the stretcher out of the vehicle and hurried her away.

  Feeling dazed and distraught, he watched as the sliding glass doors closed behind her. As he approached the front doors of the emergency room, Kristian came striding out, followed by Katrin’s mother, Ingrid, Sam, Jenny, his brothers, and father. Kristian threw his arms around Erik, embracing him in a giant bear hug.

  “You saved her.”

  “No. I was late.”

  I was late. I was late and Wade hurt her.

  “No, man. You got there in time. She’s alive, Erik. That’s all that matters. I saw her when they wheeled her in. She’ll heal. At least she’s still in one piece. I owe you, Erik. Thank God you made it there in time.”

  Lisabet was next, hugging Erik, and repeating the words Ingrid had said to him weeks ago as he drove away with her daughter. “You saved her life, Erik. How will we ever thank you? How?”

  “I’m so sorry I didn’t get there on time,” he murmured, wincing. “I can’t believe he almost—I love your daughter, Mrs. Svenson.”

  “Lisabet.” She smiled gently at him. “And I know you do.”

  His head started to clear, and he thought about telling her about the postcard the police had found in Wade’s back pocket—the one addressed to Lisabet, that was sent from Katrin and intercepted by Wade.

  After he was handcuffed, he admitted he’d seen Katrin and Erik in the parking lot at Flathead Lake and had keyed Erik’s car. He also admitted to stealing the postcard out of Lisabet’s mail and driving up to Skidoo Bay to try to convince Katrin to give him another chance. When Erik had turned up at the same time to pick up Katrin for their date, Wade had freaked out, thrust the flowers at his rival and driven home.