My Heart Wants (The Heart Duet Book 2)

by Nicole S. Goodin

  I look back up at the house as the lights come on and allow myself to acknowledge that my long lost feeling of contentment can be found inside those very walls.

  I see Emmett coming from a mile away, and my feeble attempt to bury my face in my notes goes as expected – totally unsuccessfully.

  “Dr. Wilder…” He says my name in the kind of way a voice-over might announce a character in a cheesy movie. “How was the date?”

  He’s raising his brows suggestively at me. I’m not sure why he doesn’t just tell me how my date went, because I have a pretty strong hunch that Violet would have been straight on the phone to Lucy the moment I dropped her home.

  I consider blowing him off, but I can’t do it. The guy is just too likeable – he and Lucy both are, and right now his obvious excitement is infectious.

  “It was good,” I reply as a grin breaks out on my face, and I find that, surprisingly, I actually want to talk about my evening.

  I don’t know Emmett all that well, or him I, but he seems to know me well enough to realise that this revelation is a win, albeit a small one.

  “She’s pretty incredible once you get past her defences, huh?”

  He may not know me all that well, but it seems he does know Violet, and cares a lot about her too. It’s sweet, and I’m happy to know she has such good friends. There’s something about her that makes me think she deserves them.

  She’s a guarded woman, but when her mask slips and you see the real her, it’s a beautiful thing to witness.

  She’s a bit like me in a lot of ways; we’re both what I would consider to be old souls. I don’t know her story yet, but I get the feeling that she’s lived through a lot more life in her twenty-five years than most people have.

  “I had a really good time with her.”

  “You seeing her again?”

  One thing I’ve learnt about Emmett is that he’s as straight up and to the point as they come. He doesn’t beat around the bush and I like that about him. I prefer to know where I stand with people.

  I haven’t had much in the way of friends in the past few years and there’s something about the big man in front of me that makes me think that maybe I’ve found one.

  “I hope so,” I tell him, because honestly, I want nothing more than to see her again. The idea of peeling back another layer of Violet intrigues me in a way that nothing else does.

  I’m looking forward to being back in her company already, and that’s a big deal for me – I haven’t looked forward to something that isn’t work in a very long time.

  “I plan to call her today.”

  “That’s good…”

  “I hope it will be.”

  He seems like he has more he wants to say, so I wait for him to get it off his chest.

  “She’s been through a lot, doc, so if you’re going to see her again, don’t expect it to be all smooth sailing.” He’s still wearing a smile, but I can tell this is a serious statement.

  I nod as he walks away, his warning heeded.

  This conversation has only enforced the feeling that there’s something special about Violet – something that I know nothing about.

  I stroll around aimlessly for a while after that; I’m not even rostered on, and I’m ninety percent confident I won’t be having any unexpected deliveries today, but I still seem to find myself here anyway.

  Wandering the halls has become therapeutic for me. It’s bizarre really. Most people, after a trauma, will avoid places and things that remind them of that event, but apparently, I’m not wired right, because I don’t operate that way.

  I work in the same hospital that my sister passed away in. I still walk the same halls I walked as I tried to accept that she was really gone, and I still linger outside the window of the girl whom I never got to meet.

  The girl with the crystal blue eyes…

  A visual of Violet smiling and giggling softly last night, the deep dimples visible in her cheeks, hits me like a wrecking ball and I nearly drop to my knees.

  She’s looking down at the table, but when she glances up to meet my gaze, the same eyes from my memory are looking back at me.

  It’s funny how when you’re doing something you shouldn’t be, you feel like everyone is looking at you.

  They aren’t really, but the feeling of eyes on you is suddenly very real.

  I know this is a total breach of her privacy, and that I could be fired for doing this, but there’s just something about Violet that I need to know, and the more I think about her and her familiar eyes, the more concerned I become.

  I’ve never been a person that’s able to let things like this go – so here I am, risking my career, because there’s something in a woman’s eyes that makes me feel like I’ve found my way back home.

  I type her name into the search bar and peer out my door once more before hitting ‘enter’.

  I’m pretty sure I mutter a curse word as her file appears on my computer screen.

  It’s a mile long; in fact, I’m not sure I’ve ever seen a medical history quite this large in all the years I’ve been practising. Violet Miller has had more hospital stays than I’ve had hot dinners and that can’t mean anything good.

  I don’t want to violate her privacy any more than I’ve accepted I need to, but I can’t help looking at the first entry ever made – the one from the day she was born.

  My hands shake as I read the doctor’s notes.

  It’s her heart.

  I know without looking what the rest of this will say… open heart surgery, probably infections, more open heart surgery, medication… and eventually maybe a transplant.

  She’s twenty-five now, and I hope to God that she’s already got the heart she needs. Considering her colouring and the spring in her step, I’m almost certain she has, and I breathe a deep sigh of relief because of it.

  I find what I’m looking for in a matter of minutes – the reason I feel like I’ve seen her and those eyes of hers before is because I have.

  The month and year leap out at me and slap me clean across the face.

  She was here while my sister was dying.

  She was here on the same date that brings me to the brink of insanity annually.

  She was here when I began wandering the hallways not knowing where to turn.

  She was here when I first watched the girl with the crystal blue eyes who looked like she was on the verge of death – she was that girl… she is that girl.

  I don’t even read the notes that accompany that particular hospital stay – it doesn’t matter what they say, what matters is that it was her.

  I close the file down as fast as I can and rest my head in my hands.

  This only confirms what I already knew.

  Violet is the girl with the beautiful eyes. The girl who gave me hope in the darkest of all my hours, and I don’t know if I’m more shocked with the revelation, or the fact that I didn’t put it together sooner.

  Violet

  “Has he called you yet?”

  I roll my eyes at my best friend’s ridiculous persistence.

  “It’s not even midday; give the guy a chance, would you?”

  “He had a great time. It sounds like you two really hit it off.”

  I groan. “How on earth do you know he had a good time?”

  “Emmett saw him at work, so he quizzed him, then he called me. Duh.”

  Of course he did. I don’t know why I would have expected anything less – frankly I should probably just be grateful that Lucy didn’t go ahead and call him herself.

  “You two have been watching too many of those love match shows. You’re both totally out of control, you know that, right?”

  She laughs, and the sound is soft and tinkling.

  She doesn’t say anything more and we both know it’s only a matter of time before I crack.

  “Fine.” I let out a resigned sigh. “Are you going to tell me what he said or not?”

  Lucy doesn’t require any further encouragement before
she eagerly launches into a total re-enactment of the encounter.

  I know her and Emmett well enough to know that the details of this story will be strongly inflated and possibly entirely inaccurate, but still, I listen with bated breath and all the excitement of a teenager talking about her first boyfriend. Because frankly, he might not be my boyfriend just yet, but he is near the top of a very short list of dates that I’ve had in my twenty-five years.

  “Did you tell him about… you know, your heart and stuff?” Lucy asks me quietly and I feel a pang of guilt in my gut.

  It’s not that I think I owe him the story – not yet anyway, if I see more of him, then yeah… I’ll need to explain to him the reality of my life.

  But not having told him yet isn’t why I feel guilty.

  I feel guilty because of the reason I didn’t tell him.

  I didn’t tell him because he’s the man from my dream… my premonition, my life flashing before my eyes… whatever you want to call it… he’s the one.

  He’s the one whose eyes stayed with me as I found my way back to life instead of disappearing into death.

  He’s the one who I’ve dreamed of nearly every night since.

  I don’t know what I would have said. I have no idea what I could possibly say to him that wouldn’t send him running for the hills – so instead I said nothing.

  There’s also guilt because I’ve never told Lucy all of this.

  She’s my best friend, has been since we were babies, and this is the one and only thing I’ve never shared with her.

  I don’t even know why. Maybe one day I will bring her in on my secret, but for now at least, I know I’m not ready.

  The only person I’ve talked about those moments with is Auggie, and suddenly I’m filled with an overwhelming desire to talk to my big sister.

  “I didn’t tell him,” I respond quietly. “I will… if it goes anywhere, I’ll tell him.”

  “I know you will, Letty.”

  “I still can’t believe you forgot to mention that you actually know him,” I grumble, hoping that I’ll succeed in changing the subject.

  “Well, technically, he knows my lady bits better than he knows me, so I didn’t think I needed to mention it.”

  I groan again. “I really did not need a visual of the man I was kissing last night, looking at your lady bits.”

  “Um… back the truck up. Kissing? Now who’s holding out on information, huh? You conveniently forgot to mention that you were locking lips with the hot doctor now, did you?”

  I intentionally left that part out when I was texting Lucy last night. She’d barely managed to refrain from asking me five thousand questions when I let her and Emmett know they were relieved of their chaperone duties, and the minute I got home she jumped right back into it.

  Lucy is all about the questions.

  I laugh into the phone. “Cut the fake outrage, I’m telling you now.”

  “Oh, you bet your ass you are. I want all the details, right now.”

  I smile and revel in the feeling of being normal, even just for a few moments.

  “Hey, stranger.” I lean in and whisper hoarsely in August’s ear as I approach from behind her.

  She startles so easily, and I just can’t help myself.

  “I told you to stop doing that to me!” she cries once she realises it’s me and not some creep trying to hit on her.

  “And I keep telling you that I’ve lived this long for a reason, and if driving my sister crazy isn’t one of them, then I just don’t know what it is I’m meant to do with my life.”

  “You really need a boyfriend,” she tells me as I sit down opposite her.

  I smirk. “Well if I did have a boyfriend it would have made my date last night pretty awkward now, wouldn’t it?”

  Her jaw drops. “Did I just hear the word date come out of your mouth?”

  “You did.”

  “Oh my God, who? Where? How did this happen? Who is he? When can I meet him?”

  I take a sip of her coffee. “Calm down.”

  “But I have so many questions.”

  I laugh. She wouldn’t be August if she didn’t. Between my best friend and my sister, I could spend the rest of my life answering questions.

  “It was a blind date, courtesy of Lucy and Emmett.”

  “How the hell did they get you to agree to that? I’ve been trying for years.” She pouts at me.

  “Does it really matter?”

  “I tried to get you to go out with that guy I met in class and you wouldn’t do it.”

  I roll my eyes. “Focus, Auggie.”

  She’s not really listening to me, she’s picking the information she wants out of my words, while ignoring everything she deems irrelevant.

  “Who was the guy?”

  She scowls at me when she reaches for her coffee and it’s not there.

  I hand the cup back and grab one of the little packets of sugar from the jar in the centre of the table.

  I’m nervous, and when I’m nervous I fiddle with things… anything to keep my hands busy.

  “That’s actually what I wanted to talk to you about…”

  She must notice that I’m uneasy about it because she puts down her cup and gives me her full attention.

  “What did he do?” she demands.

  August may be a lot of things, but deep down I know she’d go to the ends of the earth to hunt someone down if they hurt me. Thankfully her services won’t be required today.

  “It’s nothing like that.”

  “Why don’t you tell me how it is then?” She narrows her eyes at me.

  I go back to picking at the label on the sugar packet. “Do you remember back before my transplant when my heart stopped?”

  “I think I’m familiar,” she answers, her lips tight.

  No one in my family likes talking about that time in my life.

  It took me a long time to comprehend just how close they’d come to losing me.

  Hearing that my whole family had sat in a waiting room for hours with no clue if I was alive or dead was absolutely heart breaking.

  “Do you remember me telling you about what happened… what I saw?”

  We haven’t talked about this for four years, so I’m half expecting her to have no recollection of it at all; she is Auggie after all.

  “You seriously think I’d forget my little sister’s vision of her future?”

  I shrug.

  “I remember, Vi. The baby, the guy with the blue eyes…”

  “You called him the man of my dreams,” I prompt her.

  She looks proud of herself. “I did.”

  “I never told you this, but I saw him… in person, he was outside in the hallway when I woke up from my transplant.”

  Her eyes widen, and I can tell she’s about to bombard me with questions.

  “I didn’t tell you because I knew you’d freak out, and to be honest, I wasn’t entirely sure I didn’t dream the whole thing up,” I explain before she has the chance to speak.

  “Why are you telling me this now?”

  I don’t answer her right away.

  She reaches across the table and pulls the now shredded packet from my hands.

  “Spill it, Vi.”

  “It was him…my date was with him,” I whisper.

  I hear her gasp.

  “You’ve got to be shitting me?” She gapes at me in disbelief.

  I huff out a little laugh and shake my head. “I shit you not.”

  “How? What? I don’t get it…. what? But how? I can’t deal, I just can’t…”

  She’s rambling now, and I almost suggest my five, four, three, two, one method to her, but think better of it.

  Auggie needs information and she needs it right now.

  “He’s a doctor. He works at Royal West with Emmett; so that could explain why he was there in the hallway after my transplant,” I offer.

  “Hold the phone. He’s a doctor?” she asks quickly, and I laugh. Just like that, August’s
back.

  “Yes, he’s a doctor, and yes he’s handsome, tall and he’s a gentleman, before you ask.”

  “Holy crap, did you marry him?”

  I know she’s joking, but just those words put me right back in the pressure cooker.

  I can’t explain why, but all I know is that this is so important, all of it – I can feel it in my bones.

  “You’re sure it’s him?”

  “I’ve got no doubt. I’d know those eyes anywhere.”

  “Well… heck…”

  It’s not often in my life that I’ve seen August lost for words, but right now is one of those moments.

  “Maybe he was one of your doctors; you said it yourself that he works there… you could have woken up for a while and seen him before they got you back under. That can happen, right?”

  It’s not a bad theory, and it’s one I have considered over the past few years, but I’ve always known it’s not what happened.

  “He’s an obstetrician, so that’d be a little weird.”

  She nods in agreement.

  “Okay, so did you tell him?”

  She says it as though it’d be as casual as mentioning the weather.

  “Of course I didn’t tell him! He’d probably submit me for a psych evaluation.”

  “He might be a spiritual guy…” She shrugs.

  He’d have to be a little more than spiritual to think this was normal.

  “I haven’t told him anything about anything yet. It was just one date, Auggie.”

  “Has he called you today?”

  I groan. “You sound just like Lucy. No. He hasn’t called yet. Maybe he never will. I probably wouldn’t. I’ve got more baggage than a freaking airplane’s cargo hold.”

  She raises her brows at me. “You done with your pity party?”

  “I’m not sure.” I pout back at her.

  For someone who basically lives in a constant state of self-involvement, August has always been the first to tell me to snap out of it when I’m feeling down on myself.

  Whether that’s because she doesn’t like me feeling that way, or because she’d rather I was focusing on her instead of me, I’m not sure, but either way, it’s hard to feel too down in the dumps when she’s around.