Breaking Hearts

by Melissa Shirley

Our mouths fused together as though welded by fire. After a few minutes, he drew away. “Why don’t you let me clean the mess off the front of your house, then we can finish this?”

  My senses always came to me at the worst times for my hormones. Further kissing, or touching, or being in the same room together could potentially get him killed. He’d been through enough, and I couldn’t be the one who risked his life.

  “Simon, I can clean it up myself. You should go home.”

  He cocked his head to one side and regarded me with eyes as full of promise as question. My resolve weakened. Sean hadn’t left California as far as I knew. I hung on to the thought for a full minute before I decided hormones had no place making decisions in this situation. This being responsible business caused an ache in my chest no one ever warned me about, but I’d never survive if something happened to him because of the mess I’d gotten myself into. “Look, you already checked the house. I’m safe. Go home now.”

  “Danielle--”

  “Please, Simon?”

  “I can’t just leave you here.” He shook his head and crossed his arms. “I won’t.”

  “Because what I want doesn’t matter?” Didn’t he get it? I couldn’t stand to lose him again, especially if it turned out to be my fault.

  “Because what you want is dangerous.”

  “I know what’s best for me, and right now, it isn’t having you here.”

  Hurt flashed through his eyes. “Fine.” He stalked to the front door, flung it open, and slammed it shut behind him.

  I ran hot water into the bucket, and in my evening gown, carried the cleaners and the bucket to the porch. The front of my house had been covered in a light stone in various sizes and textures. As the bright pumpkin-colored paint sliced through the different textures, the water did nothing to fade the color, only spread it into a blob.

  This time, I went with a mixture of Tide and bleach. I scrubbed and scrubbed, until my arms ached and the detergent bleach mixture splotched my dress with an irregular polka dot pattern. Still, the stain remained. Three and a half hours later, I dropped the scrub brush into the bucket and gave up.

  I left my supplies and went up to bed. Sleep came slowly in bursts of bad dreams. By the time the sun rose, every bone and muscle in my body screamed with each move I made, but I managed a shower and a cup of coffee before my phone rang. I checked the caller ID and threw the phone into the sink, not owning the kind of energy required to deal with Sean. Unfortunately, he had other ideas, and seven consecutive calls later, I snapped into the phone. “What do you want?”

  “Rough night, Dani?” Sober, drunk, or stoned, his voice still inspired a round of shivers.

  “Actually, I had a pretty nice night. I went to a birthday party. Had a little to drink, a few kisses in the moonlight.” I summoned a bit of courage, and the bite to my tone softened by the real memories of my night.

  “Slut.”

  I hung up.

  He called back.

  I put the phone in the drain and turned the water on. Another new phone. Another new number. I walked out to the front porch and leaned against the porch rail to stare at the ugliness of the neon colored brick while sipping my coffee. It wasn’t hard to imagine glee on Sean’s face as he thought of me and his plans for destruction.

  I’d been standing for about twenty minutes when Kelly, Gatlin, and Simon arrived dressed in all manner of cleaning attire. A bandana matching the neon green of her T-shirt and spandex shorts held Kelly’s hair away from her makeup free face. Gatlin’s overalls, polo shirt, and straw hat gave him the appearance of a preppy farmer. Behind Kelly and Gatlin walked a musculature extravaganza--Simon in a pair of basketball shorts and a tank top, his arms bulked by years in the gym.

  He shuffled from one foot to the other, and I wondered if he could possibly be as happy to see me as I was to see him. My stomach did a funky little dance when his tongue slipped across his bottom lip.

  Without any fanfare or discussion, they attacked the front of my house with spray bottles, scrub brushes, and sheer determination. I helped as best I could, but my overnight exertions left me weak. Every lift of my arms higher than chest level caused a groan.

  Kelly frowned, her fingers brushing against my shoulder. “Come on. Show me your house. I need a bathroom break and a beer.”

  I nodded and led her through the front door.

  Before we’d made it three steps inside, she put a hand on my shoulder. “You okay?”

  “Just a little sore.” I rubbed my shoulder, wishing for a deep muscle massage, or a steaming hot bubble bath, or a tall glass of whiskey.

  “Simon said you were out there until three-thirty in the morning.”

  How the hell did he know how long I’d been outside?

  She smiled. “He has it bad, Dani. He isn’t going to leave you alone here until he knows you’re okay. He sat outside in his car last night to make sure no one bothered you.” She plopped down at the counter. “Simon is afraid someone is going to get to you, and he won’t be able to save you in time from across town.”

  For a guy who was supposed to be in love with me, Simon shared an awful lot with her. I squashed down a bubble of jealousy. “Oh.” I didn’t know what else to say.

  “He wigged out when your phone went straight to voice mail this morning.”

  “I gave it a bath so it quit working.” When her eyebrow cocked, I finished with, “Sean is a psycho caller.” I shook my head, digesting what she’d said. “Simon sat out in his car staring at my house all night?”

  “If you were outside, he was going to be there too, sleep or not.” She smiled the slow Kelly Devlin smile that made men drop at her feet. “Plus, he has a thing now, since his accident. He doesn’t sleep like the rest of us.”

  I couldn’t keep Simon without putting him through more than he’d been through already. Pulling beers from the fridge, I wondered how many second chances God handed out. He’d already given one to Simon. What if God meant for him to only have the one? What if Sean got to him? What if…

  When they finished, only a blob of smeared light orange (rather than bright orange) remained. We piled inside to drink another six-pack.

  “So what are you going to do about this guy?” Gatlin had his hat splayed across his chest. He held his beer against his forehead.

  Since I had no clue, I shrugged. “Isn’t Jocelyn going to kick you all out of the club for talking to me?” I’d tried to smooth our rocky relationship somewhat. Joss refused, her grudge bigger than my apology.

  Kelly chuckled. “Keaton’s working on it as we speak. He’s at home working on her honey-do list so he can talk her into coming out with all of us tonight.” Her wide-circle arm wave included me, but I had no illusions left of my safety. Unpredictable as he’d always been, Sean could show up at any moment. Their safety would be compromised by being near me.

  “I can’t go out tonight.” I stood to clear the empty bottles.

  Kelly, a whirlwind of courage and energy, scoffed. “Oh, come on. Take Kieran to your Momma’s--you know he’ll be safe there--and come along.” When I ignored her, she continued. “Do you have any idea how many single girls in this town are rubbing their grubby little mitts together, waiting for the first indication Simon is a free man? It’s shameful really, the way they keep throwing themselves at him.” She kicked Gatlin.

  “Yeah. Pretty boy has a Facebook following that puts Brad Pitt to shame. Chicks love the scar.”

  Another bout of jealousy in my stomach warred with the idea of keeping him out of the line of Sean’s long-armed fire. “Yeah, well, getting him killed is not my idea of showing my love for him.” I shrunk a couple inches under the well-meaning gazes directed my way. “We have to be realistic here. I have so much baggage even my carry-on screams psychopath. He’s better off with someone else.”

  Simon tilted his head to one side. “Maybe I should have some say in all this. I know exactly what I want.” Softer he added, “What I’
ve always wanted.”

  I’d made up my mind. “Simon, I’m not going out tonight or any night until this thing is cleaned up with Sean. He’s got friends who’re apparently here. Being with me is dangerous. Someone could get hurt.” The zip in my tone should have warned him off. “You could get hurt.” I sounded more like a mother warning a toddler away from the street than a girl who cared about someone she loved being killed.

  “He already knows about me, already thinks I’m your boyfriend, so what difference does it make?”

  Logic didn’t help my turmoil. It added to it. “I don’t want to have this conversation with you. I appreciate what you all did with the front of the house, but it’s too dangerous for you to be here. Go.” I hadn’t meant for it to sound so harsh, but he sat back as though my words had given him a good hard chest shove.

  “I’m not leaving. You can make me go outside if you want, but I’ll still be here.” He pointed beyond the front window. “Right out there.”

  My body warmed at the sight of Simon digging in his heels. Oh my. I had it bad. Unfortunately, one of us had to be the voice of reason.

  Gatlin raised a tentative hand. “As enjoyably uncomfortable as it is to watch your little lovers’ quarrel, I think I’m going to go sit in the peaceful quiet of a bubble bath.” He patted me on the head as he passed. “Good luck, Simon.”

  “Thanks, G.”

  Kelly followed before he got his first foot out the door.

  Simon and I stared at one another, neither willing to back down. Finally, I looked away. “Simon, do you have any idea what it would do to me if he hurt you?”

  “Dani.” He took my hand between his, brought it to his lips, and kissed my knuckles. “Do you have any idea what it would do to me if he hurt you?”

  “I just think it would be better if we stayed away from each other until this is all over.” My chest burned as the words hung in the air.

  He gave me his best come-hither smile. I couldn’t do anything but watch him--breathing seemed beyond my capabilities.

  “I don’t care for that idea.” His lips brushed against my ear.

  “I suppose you have a better plan?”

  “Naturally.” He pushed an errant strand of bottled blond off my forehead. “I believe we should spend all of our time together. Eat together. Sleep together. Hell, even the shower can be a very dangerous place, so we’ll have to shower together.”

  I crossed my arms between us.

  “The point is I can protect you.” He grinned. “In return, you can entertain me.” Mischief glinted in the adorable grin he used to get his way.

  “What do I look like? A magician?” He wrapped me in his arms, then aimed his whiskey colored eyes into mine. Forgetting everything but him came easily. When his lips hovered within even a few feet of me, I didn’t find it at all necessary to continue thinking.

  “There is definitely something magical about you.”

  Ten minutes later, we were still wrapped around each other when my mother rang the bell, then poked her head in the door. We sprung apart like two teenagers caught at third base. Kieran burst inside chattering at lightning speed. “Grandpa said I can be a hobbit this weekend for the story festival. He said you can make my costume, and I can ride a pony in the parade. Will you make my costume? A hobbit with long, hairy feet?”

  Finally, I saw a trace of the little boy he used to be. “Of course.”

  Chapter 20

  I hadn’t heard from Sean since the house painting incident, and Kieran and I settled into a routine. We played together every morning. He went to Mom’s in the afternoon so I could work. In the evening, if Simon worked or was called out of town to investigate a fire, we ate alone. If Simon had a free night, he joined us. For a while, I believed Sean had given up. I got complacent again. Not that I didn’t still lock the doors at night. I’d also nailed the windows shut, which drove my firefighter boyfriend into a tame rant at least once a week. But mostly, I didn’t think about Sean or the danger of his ever coming to Storybook Lake.

  It took exactly six months and eleven days for the last shreds of my peace of mind to be ripped away. I’d gone to bed early. It felt as though I’d just dropped off to sleep when I woke up panting and sweating, a scream dying on my lips, the smell of cigar smoke and sweat as prevalent as it had been in my dream. I wiped the salty moisture from my forehead with a trembling hand as I flopped back against my pillow. The digital clock read 3:07AM, but I reached for my bathrobe. Simon offered to sleep on the couch when he’d called earlier, but I declined. Complacent.

  Aside from my no-fear outlook on life, I refused because the temptation to touch him, to tear his clothes off, itched through me whenever he so much as glanced my way. And since Sean hadn’t signed the divorce papers, we were still in PG-13 land.

  Maybe because the dream seemed so real, or because the lack of moon made the night so dark, or even because I had all but given up on sleep lately, I wished I’d taken him up on his offer. In the dark, the street lights cast eerie shadows on my walls.

  I checked on Kieran, then walked into the kitchen, staring at the screen ID on my cell. Un-freaking-believable. Sean had to have some kind of magical power. I’d changed my number so many times since I returned to Storybook Lake, I almost applied for a job in the store. Somehow, he had it again.

  I flipped on the light as I popped a pod into my coffee machine. When I had a fresh cup in front of me, I punched the envelope. A picture of me in the very pajamas I wore that night sleeping in my own bed filled my screen. I ran down the hall, dropping the phone on the way. Scooping my son into my arms, I took off almost before I had a good grip on his limp, sleeping little body. I drove like a pack of hungry wolves followed me, and I had a T-bone strapped to my back.

  Finally, after what felt like hours of banging, the lights came on, and Dad stood in front of me in his bathrobe, rubbing his eyes and yawning in my face. In a burst of words, I told them what happened. Daddy forced me to let him take Kieran upstairs, even though I’d rather have died than let him out of my sight. When Dad returned, we sat in the kitchen deciding what to do next. Mom dropped her hand on my shoulder in comfort while Dad sat across from me in the same bathrobe he’d had since I got it for him in fifth grade. They took turns making suggestions--private security, a safe-house until the divorce became final, a trip abroad. In my family, decisions like this were made as a group rather than as an individual. Besides, I’d come running to them, drawn them into the center of the drama. It seemed only fair to let them have their say.

  “Obviously,” Dad said, “if you won’t go out of town, you’re going to stay here. We have a security system. Tomorrow, I’ll ask Fred to keep an eye out.” Fred Martin, our neighbor, had been feeble for as long as I could remember, but the man could shoot the wings off a fly at eighty paces. Dad considered Mom through his most apologetic eyes. “Honey, we need to cancel our trip to see Mary.”

  “No. Don’t cancel. You guys should go. Take Kieran with you.” Tears streaked down my cheeks. “I don’t know what’s going to happen, but I need to know he’s safe so I can think straight without worrying about him.”

  “Of course, we’ll take him. Don’t you worry about Kieran. I’ll protect him just the same as I will you.” He pulled me into the best fatherly hug ever. When a sob jerked through my body, he squeezed me tighter. “But, honey, I think we should all go.”

  More than anything, I wanted to hop on the plane and fly to Aunt Mary’s cottage in England and maybe never return, but hiding from Sean would only intensify his efforts. If he didn’t find me, it would be like I won. And if there were Olympic Games for poor sports, Sean would gold medal in every event. No. I couldn’t leave.

  Staying and fighting made sense to me, even if it did not to my parents or Simon. This cat and mouse game had gone on long enough. “I’ll be okay, Daddy. I just want Kieran out of here…you know, in case.” He released me.

  “Then I’ll stay with you. I can’t leave my g
irl out here on her own.”

  There were days these people had me rethinking my renewed no drinking stance. Today was not one of those days. “No, Daddy. I would rather you help mom with Kieran.” He opened his mouth. “Please, Dad.”

  While Mom called the police and told them about my house and my phone, I called the club to see if Joey had seen Sean. I wanted some assurance that my husband hadn’t yet booked a flight to kill me. Joey, the man who’d given me the little green book to use as leverage, told me Sean occupied his usual corner table at the bar. I breathed a sigh of relief for my short-term safety as I checked the peephole in the window. I couldn’t take the chance that Sean would take our lives from a Springer episode to Law & Order.

  After Luke Mabry, town sheriff, went over to investigate at my house, he came to Mom’s to share what he had, and mostly what he hadn’t, found.

  Mom offered him a “nice hot cup of coffee.” In our house, she didn’t use her PhD to shrink us or analyze our problems. She offered us internationally flavored coffee. From her spot by the coffee maker, she gave him his choice of the dilemma-solving flavors for the night--hazelnut or a light butterscotch caramel. Luke, manly man, sheriff in his brown uniform and shiny gold badge, chose a cup of hazelnut cream. then went on for a good five minutes about the delicious “aroma.”

  By the time he finished, I’d practically tapped a hole through the table with my fingers. I’d lost the last of my patience after his third “Mmm. This is good!”

  “Luke, I’m sure the coffee is delicious, but maybe we can focus on my problem for a minute before you start buying stock in the company?”

  He pushed his mug away. “Sorry, Dani. There were no broken windows, no forced entry, nothing to indicate anyone’s been in your house but you.”

  “But you saw the picture, right?” Oh, Lord. He had to believe me.

  He nodded as he handed his cup to my mother for yet another refill. “And we know what is going on with you and your husband. Don’t worry. No one is going to get you in this town.” He chuckled. “Well, except maybe Joss.”