Pulled Within

by Marni Mann

  I needed to talk to Hart.

  ***

  Hart sent a text later, saying he’d be home around eight. It was well past ten before he walked through the door. I was on the couch, and the TV was on, but I had no clue what was showing on the screen. I hadn’t been able to concentrate on it. Too many things were running through my head, my thoughts rushing back and forth.

  Back and forth.

  “Do I need to worry about where you’ve been?” I blurted out. He hadn’t even set down his messenger bag or taken off his jacket. I didn’t care. The fear and anxiety had been eating away at me for hours, and I couldn’t hold it in any longer.

  He looked surprised. “Why would you worry?”

  I’d been cheated on before by that freaky fuck I’d dated, though I hadn’t learned about the other girl until after I had already dumped him. Apparently my level of freaky hadn’t been enough for him. There had been signs, which I’d ignored. I wasn’t going to do that again. Not when there was so much strangeness about today. Hart hadn’t told me who he was leaving with, or that he was leaving with anyone at all. He hadn’t even called to say he was going to be back later than eight. The fact that he could stand just a few feet away and glare at me like I was the crazy one for thinking this only got me more worked up.

  “Don’t make me feel stupid, Hart. You were gone all day when there was nothing on your schedule. You didn’t answer your phone when I called you at lunch, and you never bothered to call me back. And according to your text, you should have been home over two hours ago. So where the hell have you been?” If he made me ask the obvious question, I would hate him for it.

  He moved over to the back of the couch, clutching the edge. “I was in a meeting, Rae. The only events I put in my work calendar are things that are related to the spa.”

  A meeting that wasn’t work-related…

  “So why didn’t you tell me about it?”

  He sighed. I could see how tired he was, the way his body slouched and his eyelids drooped. I didn’t care. I needed answers before I’d even consider letting up.

  “I didn’t have time,” he said. “It was scheduled at the last minute.”

  “No, it was scheduled at the first minute…you left before I even had a sip of my coffee.”

  He walked to my side of the couch and sat in the spot next to me. I could tell he wanted to pull me into his arms. He didn’t, which was smart of him since it wouldn’t have gone over well. “You’re making a bigger deal out of this then there needs to be.”

  My thoughts began flowing onto my tongue. They were going to be heard at some point, anyway. There was no reason to keep holding them in. “Please don’t lie to me. If there’s someone else, just tell me and I’ll pack my things and get out. I have nothing to offer you—I don’t have money like you, I don’t have your education or your career. I don’t—”

  “Hey…” He reached forward, and I flinched. He kept moving slowly. Carefully. “I’m going to wipe the tears from your eyes—just your eyes, nowhere else.” Ever so softly, the tips of his fingers landed on the bottom of my lids and caught the drops before they fell.

  His warning suddenly filled me with sadness. I hated that he had to tell me before he touched any part of my face. And that he touched me cautiously, like I was some damaged, wilted girl, rocking herself in a corner while a pair of clean, safe hands dragged her out into the sun.

  Back and forth.

  I guess I really was that girl.

  What I wanted to blurt out, to scream, to sob until he understood was that there were only nine days left until my brother’s birthday. But I couldn’t tell him that. He’d look at me like I was vile and disgusting.

  I’d rather he consider me broken than repulsive.

  “There isn’t anyone else, Rae,” he assured me. “You should already know that and be able to feel it. I haven’t been able to keep my hands off you since you came back into my life.” He kissed below each eye where it was still damp. “You have nothing to worry about. I’m so crazy about you.”

  I didn’t know if I was truly acting nuts and overreacting over nothing or if my overly-emotional state was entirely related to the next nine days. It was likely I was taking my terror out on him. It horrified me that I couldn’t tell the difference.

  His hands moved to my knees, and he leaned close to my face. I tried my best not to flinch or pull away. “As for everything else you listed off,” he said, his tone soft and even, “do you really think I care whether or not you have money? Or if you went to college? Those are superficial things that have nothing to do with how I feel about you.” His lips brushed over mine. “I’m following my feelings, and I’m happiest when I’m with you. I always was…I always am.”

  The tears only flowed faster; I couldn’t stop them. His honesty was just what I needed to hear. It took me by surprise and made me wonder how I could possibly deserve someone like Hart.

  “I understand why you were upset,” he continued, “but there are just some business things I can’t tell you yet. Things that need to remain confidential for now. They aren’t bad, and they have nothing to do with us. I promise.”

  Business matters that didn’t involve me or my position in his company had to remain separate from our relationship. I knew then that it wasn’t because he didn’t trust me; he just wasn’t in a position to discuss them.

  I was doing the same thing.

  There were subjects that, if I could, I’d never tell him.

  “Yes, of course.” I smiled, though it was weak.

  “Good.” He pecked my lips. “I’m happy to hear that, because I would never do anything to hurt you.”

  I believed him.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  THE TEARS I‘D SHED that night on the couch changed things between us. Hart became even more attentive to my needs, more sensitive to my triggers. He spent additional time at the office training me on other aspects of the business—things I didn’t necessarily need to know in order to do my job, like the stages of construction and the operating procedures. He even showed me things that business owners didn’t typically share with general employees, things like the financial statements, prospective expenses, budgets and projected income. Saint had never discussed those things with me. Shane hadn’t either, so I had no real understanding of what the majority of it meant. I still knew how much money I was looking at, and how much the spa was expected to make. Bar Harbor and its tourists were wealthier than I had realized.

  Which meant Hart’s family was, too.

  Based on his budgets, my job was more than secure while the Bar Harbor and Bangor locations were being built. But every time I reviewed the numbers—like I was doing for the second time that morning—I was reminded of how different we really were. It wasn’t as if my mom was poor; we’d never had our electric shut off like some of the kids I knew, and there had always been food in the fridge. Maybe that was because she hadn’t done it all by herself.

  Gerald had lived with us to help with the bills.

  I still never had the extras that Hart had. I didn’t have a three-story house that overlooked the ocean. I didn’t have an expensive car.

  I didn’t have a home, in the truest sense of the word.

  I didn’t think I ever would again.

  “Let’s go out to lunch,” Hart said. “I think we could both use a break from this place.”

  I jumped from the sound of his voice, not realizing he had come into the office. “Let me clean up some things and I’ll meet you outside,” I told him, pulling the budget spreadsheets against my chest. He’d given me my own copy, but I didn’t want him to see that I’d been staring at them. I had so much work that needed to be done. Gazing at his financials wasn’t part of that.

  He grabbed his jacket and smiled. “Don’t take too long.”

  Once he was gone, I tucked the papers into a folder and hid it in the bottom of my desk drawer. Then I bundled up for the weather.

  Hart was standing in front of his Range Rover
talking to Shane when I got outside, discussing the tile that was going to be placed under the shampoo basins. He looked troubled. “Last purchase order I saw said the basins were due to be delivered a few days ago.”

  “Josh said the silver sinks never came in,” Shane informed him. “They’ve been backordered for at least two months.”

  “We can’t wait two months,” Hart said. “We’ll have to go with whatever color they have in stock, which means we’ll also have to change the color of the tile. Those one-by-ones were chosen to match the silver.” I could hear his frustration.

  “No need to change anything,” I said. Both of them looked at me. “The silver sinks are scheduled to be here at the end of the week.”

  “They’re not backordered?” Hart asked.

  “They were, but I found another distributor who had them in stock. I told them I’d cancel my other order and give them the business if they threw in freight. So they did.” My eyes bounced from Hart to Shane. I couldn’t tell what either of them was thinking. “I hope that’s okay? I know I didn’t get permission, but I figured since I was saving you money it wouldn’t be a problem.”

  Hart laughed and gripped the bottom of my scarf to pull me in closer. “Aren’t you just a little negotiator.” He kissed my forehead. “What gave you the idea to have them throw in the shipping?”

  I blushed as his mouth left me. No one had ever kissed me in front of Shane before. Even though it was only my forehead, it still felt a little wrong. “I figured the worst they could say was no.” Calling the second distributor—or any distributor, really—wasn’t part of my job. But based on the schedule, I knew if they didn’t arrive quickly, they would have held up production. So I’d made a judgment call.

  But maybe it hadn’t been the right thing to do…

  “I’m sorry—”

  “No,” Hart said, shaking his head. “You have nothing to be sorry for. You did good.”

  I smiled shyly.

  Shane had been concerned when I told him I’d be working for Hart. Among his many worries, he believed my relationship with Hart would get in the way of my new responsibilities, and either the job or the relationship would suffer. His concerns were valid. Though it only made me want to work harder…and it looked like my efforts had paid off. The smile on his face told me he felt the same.

  “Hart, when a woman saves you money instead of spending it,” Shane said, “she deserves a raise.”

  This was the first time I’d ever been recognized for doing a good job—anywhere. Saint had never said anything about the way I worked. At the casino, I was just another serving girl in a short skirt. Shane and Brady were the only people who’d ever complimented me, but it was always for my appearance. I’d wanted someone to do more than tell me I looked pretty to compensate for having the scar on my face. I needed my efforts recognized, too.

  “I think you might be right,” Hart said. His arm went around my shoulders. “If anyone needs us, tell them I’m taking our negotiator out to lunch. We’ll be gone a while.”

  Shane squeezed my hand through my mitten. “I think that’s an excellent start.”

  Hart led me to the passenger side of his SUV and helped me get settled before jumping in next to me. His hand rested on my thigh as he backed out of the long driveway and onto the main road. Despite how sexual he normally was, this touch wasn’t erotic. It was emotional, an expression of his feelings, not just his attraction.

  “I know you were hesitant about working for me,” he said quietly. “I hope today showed you it was a good decision.”

  “It did.” I turned toward him and crossed my legs. His hand remained where it was. “But I also really like the job. I’ve always wanted to work at a spa. I feel like this is allowing me to do that, in a way.”

  His eyebrows rose. I think my confession had surprised him. “What do you see yourself doing there?”

  I didn’t have to think about it. “Skin, for sure. I’d love to do hair, too. I just want to make women feel as beautiful as they really are.”

  “There’s a school in Bangor,” he said. “You should apply.”

  I liked the way he thought. “I plan to.”

  He squinted at me, scanning my eyes. He was reading me again. “I’m happy to hear that.” His stare moved back to the road; his hand slid to my knee.

  I loved his touch as much as I loved his faith in me.

  We were on Main Street, passing the rows of restaurants and pubs and boutiques that lined both sides of the road. He pointed at one of the shops. I already knew which one it was; I knew them all by heart. It was the one place I wished he hadn’t seen—the one I’d distracted him from every time we’d passed it in the last few weeks because I didn’t want it to spark a memory.

  A memory I wasn’t ready to discuss.

  “That’s the ice cream place we used to take your brother to, remember?” He was still pointing at it, and my stomach began to churn. “He used to order some crazy flavor. Wasn’t it lobster-something?”

  It was vanilla lobster, actually.

  Seven days.

  I nodded.

  “Then he’d put those gummy things on top. The same gummies you love,” he said. “Worms or bears…one of those.”

  They were gummy bears.

  Seven days.

  I nodded again.

  I pushed back against the seat, hoping to still the trembling that had risen in my body. My hands gripped the safety bar above the window, but it did nothing to calm them. And it didn’t matter how many times I swallowed; I couldn’t get rid of the dryness in my throat.

  “I know I’ve asked you before, but I don’t think you ever answered me. How’s Darren doing?”

  He’d asked twice before—once over dinner a few days ago and the other last week while we were getting ready for bed—and I’d changed the subject both times. I could have avoided it again, or I could have lied to keep the conversation moving. Neither of those felt right, especially lying. Telling him Darren was still alive would have been more painful than telling him he was dead.

  I stared at the side of his face, watching his eyes shift from side to side as they took in every car that passed. It was time. “He’s…”

  “I’m trying to remember, he’s a baseball player, right?” Was a baseball player. “He’s got to be a senior by now, or did he already graduate?” He looked at me again. I glanced away. “If he’s around, I’d like to see him. You should bring him by the jobsite.”

  “He’s…not around.” I tried so hard to make my voice louder than a whisper. I couldn’t.

  “Did he go to college out of state?”

  I shook my head. “No, nothing like that.”

  The SUV came to a stop. We were parked outside the diner that Shane usually took me to. Hart turned in his seat to face me. When he saw me avoiding his gaze, he gently pressed his hand to my neck and turned me toward him. “You’re pale, Rae.” I felt his stare inside me. “What happened? Did I say something wrong?”

  I clutched my stomach with both arms, my typical position for whenever I shut down. “I don’t talk about my brother that often.”

  “Why? You two used to be so close. I could barely get alone time with you because he always tagged along.”

  For the briefest of seconds, the memory made me smile. It was so true. Every time I had left the house, Darren had wanted to come with me. I almost always let him. I knew now why he never wanted to be home, but I didn’t understand back then.

  I should have always taken him with me.

  I should have never left him alone.

  I should have done so many things that I didn’t.

  “We were close…so close,” I said. “He was my best friend.”

  “Something happened?”

  I couldn’t swallow. I couldn’t take in any air. I couldn’t calm anything inside me. I would deal with the consequences of the truth later, but I couldn’t drag this out any longer. “He’s dead, Hart. Darren died five years ago.”

  Died.
/>
  It was a word I’d never gotten used to, a sound that had a strange, disconnected meaning. The same sensation came from the word home.

  I hated both words equally.

  He shook his head, as if he couldn’t believe what I was saying. I almost couldn’t believe it, either. “I had no idea, Rae. I hadn’t heard anything about it until now.” It was strange that Shane hadn’t mentioned it to him. Although knowing Shane, he wouldn’t want to be the one to share that kind of news “Was he sick or…?”

  The details of that night flashed in front of me, a downpour of images that closed in around my vision and choked me senseless.

  It was a flood of pain that I couldn’t hold back, couldn’t relive or rearrange no matter how much I wished I could. I’d seen what I’d seen, then I’d fled my mom’s house, running out of one storm and straight into another. Thinking of it reminded me how much I wanted him back.

  And looking directly into the memory of that night reminded me that I never would.

  “He killed himself.”

  His reached for my hand and squeezed until it hurt. I normally would have cried out in pain. Today, I needed it. “Why would he ever do that?” That made me wince. “Oh shit, that wasn’t the right thing to say. I’m just…stunned, really.”

  “He didn’t leave a note.” He hadn’t needed to. I knew the reason he’d done it. That was another storm entirely, one I wasn’t ready to discuss.

  Though Hart was silent, his grip remained firm. “I’m so sorry, Rae.” Everyone was sorry. Nobody more than me. “I wish I’d known. I wish I’d been there for you, to help you.”

  I turned my head and gazed out the window. “There was nothing you could have done.”

  The pain of losing Darren was something I felt every day. It hadn’t faded or dimmed. It had become a permanent feature of my emotional landscape. Sometimes all it took was an expression to remind me of him—a scent, or the weather…days with rain, in particular. It was raining when he did it. It was raining when I got my scar.