Your Hand in Mine: A Heartwood Novel

by Brea Viragh

  “The one.”

  “Yes, I told you,” I muttered. “Pay attention.”

  She grinned in response. “I’ve heard you say that before. A few times, if I remember correctly.”

  “I might have said it, but I’ve never felt anything like this. It’s like I can’t breathe when I’m around him. My heart beats fast and then, when he touches me, it slows to match his.”

  “It sounds like you’ve been watching too many chick flicks again. Did you have a binge-watching marathon and not invite me?”

  I brought her the bag and let it drop on her lap. “Jackie, I…”

  The dam broke. Well, not really broke. More like splintered. There was no way I could hold back the tide anymore. Shoulders slumping, my eyes stinging, I carefully sat next to her on the couch and let my head rest on her shoulder.

  “Dammit, I’m sorry.” The tears came whether I wanted them to or not. “I don’t know what I’m doing anymore.”

  There was a moment of shock where her shoulders stiffened and she seemed to not understand the contact. Bit by bit I felt her relax until her arm came around my shoulder and she brought me close.

  “You want to tell me what’s happening?” she asked, a hair above a whisper.

  “He called it a mistake. And seeing him tonight at the bar, seeing Kaylen with that beer in her hand…I wanted to lose it. I wanted to grab a chair and break it into tiny pieces.” My fist clenched once before releasing.

  “Why don’t you take a deep breath and tell me about it,” Jackie soothed.

  I noticed the second she switched into Mom mode. I didn’t care. The over-the-nose look she sent my way had me wanting to break down and grab her for a hug. Too bad I wasn’t the hugging type.

  “There really isn’t much to say. What do you do when you love someone so much you don’t feel complete when they aren’t around? Grappling with that is enough to make me go crazy. The fact that he doesn’t want to be with me? I don’t know what to do.”

  “How about I make us a pot of coffee, maybe some nice music, and you can let those walls down and talk to me?”

  “Did you say coffee?” Despite the circumstances, my mouth rose in a lustful grin. “But it’s past your bedtime.”

  Jackie sighed and nudged me away to rise off the couch, sparing a moment to grab a licorice piece and stick it in her mouth. “I haven’t exactly been the best big sister to you, Shari. I’ve had so much bullshit that you’ve kind of had to take care of me. It should be the other way around. I think it’s about time we change the dynamic. Don’t you?”

  I stared after her as she went into the kitchen to get the coffee maker started. I’d never thought of our dynamic as anything but normal, where there was a mess and I stepped in to clean it up. We’d repeated the same pattern through what felt like her never-ending battle with addiction. How odd it would be, I thought, to have the roles reversed. To need her now the way she’d needed me then.

  I wasn’t sure I cared for the picture.

  Jackie returned minutes later, a cup of freshly brewed coffee in each hand, black for me and lightened beyond recognition with sweetener for her. Once I had my cup in hand, she popped the licorice out of her mouth and dipped it in her own to use as a straw.

  I took a long draw before I was ready to continue. “This is good stuff,” I told her, ecstasy warring with the bitter emotions I’d unleashed once the dam broke.

  “So, talk to me.” She pushed the coffee table out of the way before grabbing a pillow and situating herself on the floor. Staring up at me. “I mean, if you feel like you’re ready.”

  I began slowly. “Something inside of me…clicked, when I saw him. I’ve never had that kind of reaction to man before.”

  Jackie’s lips sneaked up in a smile like she doubted my sincerity. “You’ve never met a worthwhile man before, maybe. Although I’m not sure exactly who you’ve met. I spent most of our young adult into adult lives in a haze. I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you.”

  “I accept your apology, sis. Right now, I can only handle so many emotional upheavals. If you keep being too nice I’m going to burst into tears, and I’m holding them back by millimeters here.” I pointed to my face and my reddened eyes. “I’m on shaky ground.”

  Taking a deep breath, I told my sister everything. It was a purge, an eruption of everything I wanted to say to Fenton and couldn’t. Everything I couldn’t admit to myself. I’d fallen for a man who didn’t want me, and it wasn’t my confidence that took a hit. It was my heart. For the first time in my life, I wasn’t sure what to do. I didn’t have the next step planned.

  I thought getting fired from Doma was a major obstacle. One I handled with grace if not dignity. I managed to find a path I not only enjoyed but could appreciate for what it was. Why did this bullshit with Fenton feel worse?

  It worried me, I realized. It worried me that I might not be able to get over this guy if he walked away.

  Bearing in mind he wasn’t mine to begin with.

  It would be easier for me to walk away first, as I usually did.

  I needed a distraction. Fast.

  Jackie’s open expression quickly faded into one of concern. “If I can offer you a piece of advice?”

  I drained the rest of my cup. “Go ahead,” I answered quickly. My stomach took a major flip-flopping cartwheel. “I’ll take whatever help I can get.”

  “This guy is a problem. He makes you feel like you’re not worth it.” She pulled the licorice out of her mouth. “If you both agreed to keep things casual, I would still be worried, because, as much as you think you’re built for casual, I always suspected you arent. Once you met the right man, you’d be toast. Now you think this Fenton guy is the right man, which I have my doubts—”

  “Don’t,” I told her. “For all his faults, he’s a good man. An honest and hard-working one. I would trust him with my life. He’s a little…confused at the moment.”

  “Confused is one way to put it.” Jackie slapped her hand on her thigh. “All the more reason for me to be angry with him. No one treats my baby sister like this. We both know he can’t do better than you, and if you refuse to back away, then I’m going to make a suggestion, whether you like it or not.” Her voice was firm and brought my full attention forward. “We’ve always been told not to let anything stand in the way of our happiness, right? And you deserve the best. So, trust, Shari. Trust yourself to make the right decision in this case. If it means staying, then promise me you’ll at least keep your head on straight. Focus on yourself and keeping your heart open. Fenton will either fall in line, or he won’t. Either way, I know you’ll be okay.”

  We were quiet, staring at each other while I tried to piece together the image of my sister with the wise words coming out of her mouth. Once again, the two didn’t seem to fit.

  “Just act like nothing is happening?” I questioned.

  “Yes.” She said it like it was simple. Simple, maybe, but it would be one of the hardest things I’d ever done in my life. “You live once, Shar. Once. I’m not stupid enough to tell you to cease and desist. I know you won’t listen if I did. Live your life to the best of your ability and focus on your own happiness. Not this guy. Don’t waste the time you have.”

  “If only you could parent Kaylen the way you did for me tonight. Then she might not want to push her boundaries.” I stifled a laugh when Jackie grabbed the pillow from under her butt and tossed it at me.

  “You have any more sisterly advice for me?” I asked, ducking my head to avoid another pillow. “About how to tell him how I feel without him running in the opposite direction.”

  “If I did, I wouldn’t be single!”

  She was right, I knew. Life was too short to spend unhappy. Wading through what degraded into pillow fight territory, I vowed to do better. To focus on myself and my family. If Fenton was blind enough to miss out on this opportunity, I knew better than to blame myself for his actions.

  “All I can tell you is this.” Jackie was breathless, on her hand
s and knees, staring at me through those immovable pieces of bat wing hair. “He probably already knows how you feel. He doesn’t know how to react to it. Tell him again if you want. Keep your calm. And love yourself first.”

  Love me first.

  It had never been a problem until now. I had to wonder where, along the line, I’d gotten lost.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  A thump on the glass made me acknowledge the man outside on a ladder, whose hammer was pounding away at the siding. Bud sent a tired smile in my direction. I happily returned it. Until I turned around, at least.

  “This is the week from hell,” I muttered under my breath. Kaylen wasn’t talking to me—not a big surprise—but neither was my sister. That, I couldn’t help but worry about. She wasn’t good with stress. She’d never developed the necessary coping skills to deal with life outside of a bottle. Now that she was sober, and had been for the last ten years, I tried to keep a close watch on her and circumvent whatever situation she might make into a tragedy. Catching her daughter drinking in a bar with a fake id?

  It fell under that category.

  I moved to my desk and tried to study the list of things I needed to accomplish before I could leave for the day.

  Order shutters.

  Towels for the honeymoon suite.

  Refund for the extra porch rails.

  And there, in the bottom, for my eyes only, continue to kick ass.

  I wasn’t sure I could handle the last one. At least I’d managed the first two without much hassle. The shutters were due to arrive in the next week, with the towels not far behind them. Fenton knew about the shutters. Not the towels. If I left the finishing touches up to him, the guests would arrive in a room without sheets to cover the mattress. Not to mention the man’s terrible taste in furniture. I couldn’t trust him to pick out a bowl for cereal.

  A swell of melancholy accompanied the thought.

  Tapping my pen against my lip, then taking time to scratch through the items on the list I’d accomplished, I tried to plan my next move.

  The ringing doorbell startled me out of my daydreams of the previous week. The men had taken to ringing it at odd hours, testing the fancy chime I’d picked out and had installed. They seemed to think it was funny. Which means I was way too deep in my head, if hearing it now gave me such a scare.

  Sighing, I pushed my hair out of my eyes and stared across the room. Fenton’s eyes caught mine. “Are you expecting a package?”

  We’d been on thin ice with each other, both of us skirting around the Kaylen issue. Eventually, our unwillingness to talk about it melted into a tentative truce. I tried to take Jackie’s words to heart and focus on myself, my happiness and my future.

  I’d started looking into online classes for design. Score one for me! I had a direction.

  “It’s probably one of the guys,” I remarked. “Let me handle it.”

  Still, he followed me out. The man liked to follow me, what could I say?

  There was a man dressed in a brown uniform with an unusually large smile on his face standing in the middle of our porch. “I’ve got a package for you, Shar.”

  There must have been something in his tone to have Fenton bristle behind me. I sighed again. “I’m sure you do, Chris. Do you need me to sign for it?”

  Chris, another not-so-good decision from my past. At least this one had been up front when he said he wasn’t over an ex and needed time to process. We ended on good terms. I had to wonder why a handful of men I dated in the past kept showing up when I least expected?

  “It’s international, so yeah, I do. If you don’t mind…”

  Fenton stuck close as I signed the paper.

  “You doing okay? How are the wife and kids?”

  Chris replaced the pen at the top of his clipboard and smiled up at me. “Doing well, thank you for asking. I’ll send your regards?”

  “Please do. Take care.”

  I said my goodbye to the man and shut the door with my foot, staring down at the small package.

  Fenton stood with his hands hooked over his toolbelt. Towering over me. “What is it?”

  “Well, since I haven’t fully developed my x-ray powers yet, I couldn’t tell you.”

  “What did you order this time?” It was clear from the look on his face he expected me to open it up in front of him.

  I wandered into the living room and spared a glance over the walls. The pale grayish blue we’d picked out together was finished, two coats, although the trim was still waiting to be completed. It was a cheery color shy of neutral. Designed to put people at ease and let them know it was okay for them to relax.

  “I’m not talking to you,” I admitted. “I’m mad.”

  “Mad? About what?”

  “About the stunt you pulled at the bar the other night.”

  “I’m sorry. For everything, Shari. I am. Sorry.”

  The single word came out fast, like he’d said it before he could catch it.

  “I don’t want you to be sorry. I want you to stop yanking the yo-yo.”

  “I’ve been trying to stay off the yo-yo, thank you very much.” Fenton dug the hell of his hand into his forehead like he was trying to push the thoughts physically out of his head. “I’ve been trying really, really hard.

  With other men in the past, I’d wished for heat and spice and everything nice. I wanted to feel alive, to feel like I was good enough by garnering my share of their attention. None of them had been worthy, and I realize now it was my fault. I kept picking the same kind of man.

  I felt in my gut that Fenton was different. Like maybe I’d missed something with him. A secret something I should have known in order to say the right words.

  I thought about Jackie’s advice, and mentally thanked her for it, then tucked the package under my arm. Deciding on the spot not to engage. I’d said what I needed to say.

  Sadly, Fenton followed me. “I’m not sure what you want me to do here, Shari. It’s not like I have a manual walking me through this situation.”

  “What?” I tossed over my shoulder. “You haven’t slept with a ton of other women and told them you made a mistake? I’m sorry, my bad.”

  I heard him sigh. “I deserve that.”

  “No, you don’t, I’m sick to death of feeling like crap about it.” I made my way into the office and set the box down. Then, spying a stack of papers I’d earmarked to give Fenton later, I held them out and tossed them in his direction, reminding myself to keep my voice level. My tone away from anything that could be remotely misconstrued for “nagging.”

  “You need a name.”

  He didn’t look at the stack. “I told you. I’ll pick one later.”

  “I need to submit the paperwork by tomorrow if you want to register before we finish the project. I’m in the process of getting your website together and, if the point is to actually garner business, you need a catchy name.”

  “You’re putting me on the spot.”

  “Yes, I meant to. You’ve let this go for too long.”

  “You’re always trying to get an answer out of me. What if I’m not ready to give you one?”

  I sighed, letting my fingernails trail over the desk before returning them to my waist. The question felt weighted.

  “Then nothing I can do will force you. But you’re only hurting yourself. The sooner you get this in, the sooner I can work on your website and get you set up to start taking reservations.”

  “I’ll get it done, I swear. I’ve been a little preoccupied.”

  “Yeah, I notice.” My tongue ran across my bottom lip while I contemplated his strange behavior over the last few days. He’d taken to darting off in the middle of the day. When he returned from wherever he went, he was sullen and silent. Refusing to speak to anyone on the crew except to bark out orders.

  I told myself not to worry about him, to focus on myself and not question him too much. The sight of him still made certain parts of my anatomy want to stand up and break into random song, and still…I
was worried.

  Where was he going? And who was he seeing when he went there?

  He had his mouth open, ready to speak, when the ladder came crashing through the window.

  I ducked down with a screech, pieces of wood and glass catapulting through the air.

  Fenton had his body hunched over me a second later. “What is going on?” he yelled above the noise.

  The men were yelling outside. As soon as the last pieces of glass fell, Fenton was out the door, his long legs eating up the hallway. I was too dazed to move for a moment, balancing inches above the floor in my high heels and floral skirt. Blinking, I stared at the mess on the floor. The remnants of my gorgeous picture window in shards across my work station.

  “Fenton,” I called out, finally roused enough to rise and follow him out.

  I walked into madness.

  That was my first and only thought. It was pure chaos, the men scrambling around the rear of a dump truck that had backed into their scaffolding system and knocked it sideways. Sideways and into the ladder next to my office.

  Fenton was ahead of me, of course, scrambling across the parking lot before diving into the chaos.

  I stood on the porch shielding my eyes from the sun. The scene unfolded like I was watching a movie. Fenton reached out toward the front door of the dump truck, pulling it open before dragging a red-eyed and clearly soused Owen from the front seat.

  I couldn’t hear what was said. My ears began to ring and my mind went blank. Might have been nerves, I couldn’t tell.

  It wasn’t until I saw Fenton’s arm rear back for a punch that I was spurred into action.

  “Hold on!”

  There was only so fast I could move in heels. Why had I chosen today to stuff my feet into six inchers? I must have been feeling optimistic for how the day would unroll. Which was lunacy considering how my last few months had turned out.

  “Don’t hit him,” I muttered, pumping my arms to get a little traction going.

  Fenton had Owen on his feet, the material of his shirt bunched and keeping him from moving.

  “And why the hell not? He could have killed one of my men!” The answer was matter-of-fact and said with more growl than words. The veins on the side of his neck stood to attention.