The Wounded Heart

by K. D. Worth

  And that was why I hadn’t told Max.

  Not only would he be mad at me for lying about the visits, but he’d want to talk about their divorce. He wouldn’t understand why it was my fault, and he would definitely not like that I blamed myself. If I tried to explain, it would hurt him to know I was just as messed up in my head as I had been the night we met. Sometimes it felt as if Max put me on a pedestal, and I didn’t want to do anything to make him think I didn’t deserve to be there—though I knew I didn’t. Would he understand all of that? What if he thought I regretted being with him?

  “Let me tell you something.” Slade kicked back in his chair.

  Wiping my face, I had a feeling I was about to get one of his illustrations.

  “Are not two sparrows sold for a penny?” he asked. “Yet not one of them will fall to the ground outside your Father’s care. And even the very hairs of your head are all numbered. So don’t be afraid; you are worth more than many sparrows.”

  “Matthew,” I said, though I couldn’t recall the exact verse.

  He smiled. “Very good. You remembered where it came from in the Bible, but why can’t you remember the meaning?”

  I let out a shaky sigh. “Sometimes I feel like a little sparrow.”

  “Kody, you’re more important than that.” He reached across the table and took my hand, squeezing it until I met his eyes. “You’re a helluva lot more than that.”

  Sniffing back tears, I nodded, throat too constrained to do anything else.

  “I know watching your parents divorcing hurts, but you can’t take that burden on too.”

  “If I hadn’t been gay, then none of this would’ve happened,” I whispered and the tears won, spilling down my face.

  Even as I spoke those treacherous words, I heard Max’s voice in my head, shouting that it wasn’t true. That they were responsible for their own actions, not me. That I was born to be exactly who I was supposed to be. Beautiful sentiments, and as much as I claimed to believe them—and most days I actually did—old doubts lingered. Max was the best part of my afterlife and I wouldn’t trade our love for anything, and yet….

  A tiny part of me couldn’t let go of the notion that if I’d been like everyone else, if I’d been normal, then my life would’ve been so much easier. Everyone’s life would’ve been—

  “Who says being gay isn’t normal?” Slade demanded, cutting off my thoughts and making me jump when he snatched his hand back.

  “I didn’t mean it like that,” I said at once.

  “Oh, yes you did,” he said. “You actually think that being gay caused your parents’ divorce? Gimme a break, Kody.”

  “Well, it didn’t help,” I challenged, not liking his flippant tone.

  “Kid, the whole world doesn’t revolve around you,” he said with an irritable shake of his head. “Your parents didn’t sleep in separate beds because their son is into dudes.”

  “No, Dad snores,” I argued. “Mom can’t sleep.”

  “Well, what about the two living rooms?” he countered. “Your dad has his man cave in the basement decorated with airplanes and your mom has her TV room with all those teddy bears and knickknacks. You and Britany always had to choose which parent to watch with, and then you felt guilty about abandoning the other one. So your mom and dad decorating the house with his and her rooms is because you’re gay? I thought you gays were supposed to be good at decorating? If anything, shouldn’t their gay son have fused their styles into something fab-U-lous?”

  “Yeah, maybe,” I admitted, fighting a smile. I never tired of Slade’s gruff logic and caustic humor.

  He tousled my hair, chuckling.

  Pulling back, I laughed. “Hey, don’t mess up my hair.”

  Then his expression became serene. “Kody, you soak up all the sadness around you and wear it like a sack of stones around your neck, but I can’t let you put this one on yourself. Your parents’ divorce has been a long time coming.” He took my hand again, his thumb pressing my ring into my finger until it warmed. “Yes, the timing of your death kicked that process into overdrive, but it was going to happen, regardless. You have to trust me on that, okay?”

  I clung to him, praying his words were true.

  “I know we haven’t had a chance to rap for a while, but I thought we decided that you were gonna focus on the good stuff. No more wallowing in your head,” he said, smiling. “But seems like that’s all you’ve been doing.”

  I scoffed. “That’s easier said than done.”

  “Well, you were always so worried about being a disappointment to God, but now you’re in great standing with Him. Hell, if He didn’t have a soft spot for you, would you be taking His children to heaven?”

  “No, I guess not,” I said, trying not to smile.

  Slade always made me feel better about myself, like I was valued, important. My mother’s unbending Christian rules had caused me to loathe my very existence, but on this side of life, I had learned to see things differently. I’d been given a holy assignment, the honor to do the Lord’s work, which meant God did love me for how I’d been born—a morose gay kid who loved magic tricks, superheroes, and baking.

  So why was I always getting lost in my head and forgetting that?

  “You have friends on this side, support too,” Slade continued. “And you have Max.”

  Max.

  The smile won, stretching clear across my face.

  I tipped my face into the French sunshine, still unable to believe I had a boyfriend. Especially one so funny and cute. While I might be a neurotic flake, imagining life would’ve been easier if I’d been straight—hell, it probably would’ve been—I could never regret Max. He’d saved my soul the night we met, and I often thought of him as my real-life superhero, sans the cape. So kind and attentive, he brought me a drink from my favorite coffeehouse every morning, along with a kiss and—

  “All right, all right, that’s enough,” Slade interrupted, raising his hands. “I don’t wanna hear any further or see anything else in your head. You two boys and your gushy romantic crap is total TMI.”

  The flush of hormones that always hit me when I thought of Max rippled through me. Grinning, I said, “I’m sorry. I can’t help it.”

  He watched a young couple pause on the street corner to take a selfie and admire the architecture. “Believe me, I know,” he said. “The whole team knows.”

  Not as embarrassed as I’d been while living, it was a huge blessing to be able to talk about my feelings for Max without being ashamed or told I’m dirty for having them. Like it was totally normal for two teenage boys to be in love. Heck, even our fellow reapers didn’t seem to draw any difference between our relationship and Tristen and Heather’s.

  To the rest of the crew, the four of us were all annoying.

  My smile faded as I watched the happy couple, hand in hand, cross the street, probably headed toward the famous Eiffel Tower. Did they keep secrets from each other the way I’d been doing with Max?

  Shaking my head, I let out a weary sigh. “I guess I am pretty lucky. I should try to be more grateful for all my blessings, huh?”

  “Dating Max sounds like more of a punishment than a blessing to me,” Slade scoffed but I knew he was teasing. “But you two seem to be getting along well.”

  “We are.”

  He scrutinized me. “How well?”

  I squirmed under the intensity of his gaze. “Not that well,” I managed around the lump in my throat.

  Slade had been very specific when he brought me onto the team. Max and I had to follow the same rules as everyone else—bedroom doors open at all times when we were alone. The policy hadn’t really stopped us from stealing long kisses in the library when no one was around or from constantly thinking about being alone, but it had put a damper on taking anything further than our first night together. Slade wanted us to slow things down, get to know each another better. And he kept us so busy with reaper training, very little time remained for “hanky-panky,” as he called it.r />
  I figured that wasn’t an accident.

  “It isn’t,” Slade agreed. “If you think you’ve been busy, you should try keeping tabs on horny teenagers.”

  That made me chuckle.

  “I meant it when I said you boys need to slow down, Kody,” he said, not for the first time. “Being physical isn’t the wisest way to escape problems at your age. It’s only a temporary distraction.”

  I chewed my lower lip, unable to find the words to explain that I didn’t use intimacy with Max as a way to forget my problems, because sometimes I kind of did. But it wasn’t just a distraction. Touching and being close was a way to show each other how much we cared, and it made me feel cherished and loved. I figured when we were ready—if we ever had more than five minutes alone—things would happen organically.

  I watched a group of tourists pass by, cameras and phones snapping pictures. When one person aimed to take a picture of the café, I turned away and blocked my face with a hand. The likelihood of anyone who knew me when I’d been alive was all but nonexistent in Paris at eight in the morning, but being in the background of someone’s Instagram wasn’t the best place for a dead guy.

  Slade placed his hand over mine again. “You need to stop beating yourself up. Every one of God’s children deserves to be happy. Never forget that.”

  “I wanna be happy, and I am, mostly. Max thinks everything is great, but….” I squeezed his hand. “It’s easier to pretend to be okay than to try to explain why I’m not, especially when I don’t even know why. Like, why can’t I stop worrying all the time? Why can’t I just be normal?”

  Slade chuckled. “What is normal, kid? When you figure it out, why don’t you clue me in?”

  I sniffed in agreement. The longer my hand stayed connected to Slade’s, the calmer I began to feel, as if his presence washed away some of my fears and guilt, making it easier to breathe. His confidence and strength was contagious.

  I’d really missed talking to him every day.

  Taking a sip of my now tepid coffee, I let the busy sounds of the city surround me, the noise quieting some of my worries, if just for the moment. Not even death had stopped the struggles I created in my mind. Slade had gotten one thing right: I carried a lot of guilt. Always had and probably always would. Even Max had to remind me constantly that not everything was my fault. But I’d never figured out how to believe it. He always said I either needed more time or to become a bigger jerk. “Either way, babe,” he would say. “Either way.”

  “What’s this?”

  Startled, I turned as the very person I had been thinking of stood beside our table. Any melancholy thoughts vanished at the sight of the boy who saved my life and stole my heart.

  “Max!” I cried, letting go of Slade’s hand and standing. I smiled wide in greeting. “I didn’t know you were meeting us.”

  “I can see that.” Max scowled at Slade. “You didn’t tell Kody that you invited me?” It sounded like an accusation.

  Confused by his attitude, I looked back and forth between them.

  “Well, you like overdramatic entrances.” Slade leaned back in his chair, lacing his fingers behind his head and giving Max a smirk I didn’t understand any better than my boyfriend’s demeanor. “I figured this way you could have one.”

  Muttering under his breath, Max stepped forward to hug me. The moment we touched, we both flinched at the surprising heat. The chill of my human form totally faded.

  In our reaper state, which humans can’t see, I was not aware of any internal temperature difference unless Max was around. Being in corporeal form was completely different. It felt exactly like being human and being alive. Blood pumped, I breathed and I blinked, but I was very aware of the chill. Not uncomfortable in any way, it reminded me of playing outside in the snow too long. Everything was cold from fingers to nose, but you still didn’t wanna come inside. Kinda like that, but not. It was hard to explain.

  Today was the first time Max and I had been in human form together, and apparently, he warmed me in both our natural reaper state and in human form. I felt warm all over. Alive.

  It was so cool.

  Wearing a faint smile of surprise, Max stepped back from our hug, and I resumed my seat. I could still feel the lingering sensation of his warmth, settling inside me like a contented kitten. Max spun the chair beside me around and straddled it. With his black leather jacket kicked open and his brown hair gelled to perfection, the extremely cocky posturing was sexy. He flirted with danger by copping attitude with Slade, but the bad boy act really made my skin heat up.

  Literally.

  “So this is where you guys always meet for coffee?” Max glanced around at the corner café, the street busy with pedestrian traffic and lined with crisp green trees. “Paris?”

  “Not every time,” I told him, confused by his irritability. “We go to other places. Slade always surprises me.”

  Max glowered at Slade. “Isn’t that thoughtful?”

  Slade rolled his eyes. “Whatever, Max.”

  Was Max jealous because he saw Slade holding my hand? That was gross! Slade was so old!

  “I’m not that old, Kody.”

  Max’s face twisted in confusion. “What?”

  “Never mind,” Slade said. “Would you like some coffee, Max?”

  “I can get the garçon,” I offered.

  “The what?” Max looked even more confused.

  “That’s what they call the waiters in France,” I told him.

  “La-di-da,” he sang with a snotty eye roll.

  “Lift the attitude, would you?” Slade ordered, sounding annoyed now. “I brought you both here because I have something important to tell you, not to get in the middle of some teenage drama.”

  Slade was never cruel, but when he meant business, his tone brooked no disobedience. Giving him our undivided attention, we fixed our gazes on him. Thankfully Max dropped the attitude.

  “Let’s talk about your first crossover, Kody.” A file appeared in Slade’s hand out of nowhere. He opened it and perused the first page, muttering, “What was his name again?”

  “Louie,” Max and I said at the same time, glancing each other. “Jinx!” we both called, then laughed.

  Slade ignored our laughter. “How did it go?”

  He addressed me, so I answered. “It was great actually. He was a little cranky, but he was ready to go and came with us pretty easy.” My eyes misted for a moment, and I quickly brushed at them with the back of my hand. “He was really happy to see his wife again. I’ll never forget it.” I’d only caught a glimpse of his wife in the distant light, but the joy on his face had been so beautiful.

  Slade continued to study me, those gray eyes like microscopes, peering right into me.

  Considering how Max and I met, any emotional attachment to my first assignment might not be the best thing to present to Slade. The three biggest rules to being a reaper had been drilled into my brain during my training:

  Do not interfere.

  Do not get attached.

  Do not tell a charge anything they do not need to know.

  In other words, keep it professional. It seemed more attention was paid in teaching reapers to be cold and impersonal than compassionate, which bothered me, though I hadn’t voiced the irritation. I wanted to be kind to my charges, even if that wasn’t necessarily in the job description. I never wanted to forget they were people too, with real fears and emotions that could not be ignored. If Max had seen me as nothing but an assignment, then I would be just another shade lost in limbo.

  I shivered thinking about that awful place.

  “Empathy is a good quality, Kody,” Slade said, still studying me. “But you need to be careful. You feel things more strongly than others. Your empathy is both your greatest gift and your greatest weakness.”

  Confused, I tilted my head. Wasn’t compassion and connecting with someone else’s situation or feelings a good thing?

  Even as a small boy, I’d always tried to put myself in ot
her people’s shoes, longing for everyone around me to be happy. When I saw kids being bullied at school, I made a point to be nice to them and include them in my prayers. I would get so distraught when a picture of animal abuse popped up in my newsfeed on Facebook that I’d be upset for hours, unable to get the image out of my mind and wishing I could do something. Hearing my friend from Camp Purity, Cody with a C, weeping at night had torn at my heart. Even though I’d been punished for holding him while he cried because the brothers thought I was trying to have sex with him, I would never regret my actions. He’d needed that comfort.

  Did all of that mean I felt things stronger than other people?

  Mom always told me I needed to stop being so tenderhearted and it used to upset me because I thought it was just one of her euphemisms for being gay and effeminate or something. But maybe that’s not what she meant at all.

  I did wear my heart on my sleeve, but I couldn’t just switch off my feelings.

  I glanced at Max, and he smiled as if in agreement with Slade’s assessment of me.

  Ashamed, I quickly turned away from the tender, proud twinkle in his eyes. I felt terrible for keeping secrets from him.

  “You can tell him later. It’ll be okay,” Slade assured me in my head, making me jump. Aloud he said, “You showed kindness and empathy with your second crossover too.”

  “He did,” Max said, beaming at me and making the guilt worsen. “And you should see how easy it is for him. He even made a door like Heather and Meegan do.”

  It hadn’t been all that easy.

  I was still tired.

  Slade’s brows shot up. “Did they teach you how to make a door?”

  “Um, no,” I began, hesitating because Slade looked more than curious. “I thought Jeremy needed something tangible. He’s an engineer, they like that kinda stuff… right?”

  “Yes, I suppose so,” Slade said.