Imperfect Heart

by Tarina Deaton

  “Tim, I’m tired. I just want to go home and go to sleep.”

  She wouldn’t look at him.

  “Okay. I’m going to call into work—they’ll understand.”

  “Alone.”

  She finally looked at him and it broke his heart. There was no life in her eyes. It could have been exhaustion but he could feel her pulling away, even though she was inches away from him.

  “Zoe, it’ll be okay.”

  “Exactly how is it going to be okay? How, Tim? Explain it to me. My entire life just went up in flames. Literally!”

  “Insurance will cover—”

  “The loan, if I’m lucky. It won’t buy me new inventory. It won’t find me a new location I can afford. It won’t get me another loan and it sure as hell won’t provide an income so I can live.” She ticked off each item on her fingers.

  “I’m here to help you.”

  “How? Are you going to support me while I figure out what the hell I’m going to do with my life?”

  “If that’s what you need, then yes.”

  “Puta que pariu!” She threw up her hands, turned away from him, and turned back. “I don’t need you to take care of me, Tim. I don’t need you to save me and I sure as hell am not going to rely on another man for anything.”

  She couldn’t have shocked him more if she’d punched him. He inherently knew she was angry and lashing out, but that didn’t make it hurt any less. “So I’m just another man now?”

  He saw the shift in her gaze. The understanding that she’d hurt him, but she didn’t answer his question and that hurt almost as much.

  She shook her head and pressed her lips together. “I just need to be alone right now.” She turned and walked away.

  Fuck. He ran his hands through his hair and stared after her. Following her would be a bad idea. Letting her walk away was a bad idea. He was well and truly fucked.

  His phone rang and he pulled it from his back pocket. “Chief, I was going to call in a few minutes. I need today off.”

  “I need you in today. The fire downtown was arson.”

  “Elba. Thank you for coming in.” Tim ushered her into a conference room. “This is Chief Stewart, Drake Spencer, the fire department arson investigator, and Donald Fisher from Precision Security.”

  She waved nervously at the other three men as she sat. “This is about the fire?”

  “Ms. Ballard, you recently installed a new security system through Precision Security, is that correct?” Drake asked.

  “Yes.” She glanced at Tim, then at Drake. Her answer was hesitant. He didn’t blame her, but he’d agreed to let Drake lead the questioning.

  “What was your reason for installing a security camera in the kitchen? It’s not really usual for a small restaurant, is it?

  She sighed. “No, but I want to expand into dinner service and serve wine and spirits. If I’m going to have—” She swallowed hard and cleared her throat. “If I was going to store alcohol, I wanted to make sure it was accounted for.”

  “And you chose to have the security footage maintained off-site on Precision Security’s servers rather than have an internal recording system, is that correct?”

  “Yes…”

  “Was there a particular reason you chose not to have a system on-site to record the security footage?”

  “Yeah. They make you rent the stupid recorder. It’s a thousand dollars less expensive per year to have them keep the footage on their server.” She leaned back in her chair. “What is this about? Did you figure out how the fire started?”

  Instead of answering her, he pulled out several photos and spread them out in front of her. “Do you recognize the person in these photos?”

  She leaned forward and stared at each photo and a furrow developed between her brows. “It looks like…it looks like George.”

  “George Baker, the building owner?”

  “Yes. When was this taken?”

  Drake pulled out a laptop, placed it in front of Elba, and pushed a button to play the video they’d all watched several times.

  She watched as George moved around the kitchen of her restaurant, pouring cooking oil on the floor, turning on the stove, and throwing aerosol canisters into the ovens before turning those on as well. The video played for several more minutes before the oven exploded.

  She jumped and yelped, covering her mouth with her hand and then looked at the men at the table.

  “Why?” she whispered? “Why would he do that?”

  “You don’t know?” Chief Stewart asked.

  “Why would I know? That restaurant—” She looked up and took a shaky breath. “He blew up my restaurant. He destroyed Zoe’s bookstore. Laura’s boutique. Why?”

  Zoe didn’t want to answer the door. She wanted to wallow on her couch and be miserable, but the doorbell rang again. Just in case it was someone she wanted to avoid, not that she was actively avoiding anyone, she tip-toed to the door and peeked through the peephole, sighing when she saw Elba on the other side of the door. At least she would be able to commiserate.

  She swung the door open and stepped aside to let her in. “Hey.”

  “Jeez, you look like shit.” Elba didn’t even bother with a side eye.

  Zoe closed the door and threw the bolt. “I look like I feel. Margarita?”

  “It’s three in the afternoon.”

  “Life handed me a shitload of lemons. I’m putting them to use.”

  Elba followed her to the living room and took in the mess. “Have you left the couch in the last two days?”

  “Yes,” she said, plopping onto the couch in question. “I’ve gone to the kitchen for a refill and the bathroom for a defill. Is that a word? It should be a word. What brings you to casa da miséria?”

  After removing a magazine from the chair, Elba sat down. “House of misery?”

  “Yup. I think I’m entitled to a little wallowing.”

  “Yeah.” She propped her feet on the coffee table and rested her head on her hands. “I came from the police station.”

  Zoe lowered her glass. “Why were you at the police station?”

  “The fire started in the cafe. It was arson.” She lowered her hand and picked at her nails.

  She misheard. That was the only explanation. Who would set a fire in Elba’s restaurant?

  “What? Who? Why?”

  “I don’t know the why, but the who is George Baker.” Her eyes were full of tears when she glanced up.

  “George Baker the owner? Smarmy, sweaty, bad suit George Baker?”

  “The same one.”

  “I don’t— But why?”

  Elba shook her head. “I don’t know. They were issuing a warrant for his arrest when I left the station.”

  “Why did they call you into the station?”

  “They showed me the video of George breaking into the kitchen. Tim thought it was him, but he’d only met him once so he wasn’t a hundred percent positive. They called me in to identify him. I think they also wanted to see if I had anything to do with the fire.”

  She shrugged and rolled her eyes, but Zoe could tell she was hurt by even the suspicion of having anything to do with it.

  “Why the hell would they think you had anything to do with it?”

  “They didn’t say, but they asked a lot of questions about when the security cameras were installed and why I put them where I did. I guess they were thinking who would be stupid enough to start a fire when they knew there were security cameras.”

  Zoe’s head dropped back and she closed her eyes briefly before tilting her head back up. “George didn’t know we had the security systems installed—we didn’t tell him. He didn’t know there were cameras.”

  “Yup.”

  There was one silver lining. They knew who. Hopefully the police would be able to figure out why. Not that it mattered because their stores were a pile of burnt wood and ash.

  Zoe looked at her half empty glass. Maybe it was too early for margaritas—she was downright maudlin.


  Eh—she’d earned it. They’d earned it. She held her cup out to Elba and shook it, trying to tempt her best friend into joining her wallowing party.

  Unfortunately, she shook her head. “April will be home from school soon and I need to drive home.”

  “Nonsense. Tell her to catch an Uber here. We’ll be bad examples. Think of all the good it will do her when she goes off to college and people offer her alcohol. She’ll remember that time her mom and Aunt Zoe were smashed and she’ll be all, ‘no thanks.’ Really, when you think about it, we’d be doing her a favor.”

  Elba laughed through her nose at Zoe’s convoluted reasoning. “I’m not going to be able to afford college.”

  Her laughter turned to tears. “What are we going to do?”

  Zoe set her cup down and wedged herself into the chair with Elba.

  “I don’t know.” She pressed her temple to Elba’s. “We’ll figure it out.”

  Chapter 27

  Tim pushed up from the couch and kicked a beer can out of his path on the way to the door. He crouched to look through the peephole and swore under his breath. Shit. He’d forgotten Bree was coming by to pick up Mitzy.

  He swung the door open. “Hey. Give me a few minutes, I need to get her things together.”

  Bree frowned and looked at him with concern. “Take your time. Jase is on a trip this weekend so I’m in no rush.”

  He scrubbed a hand through his hair. “I know, but I forgot you were coming today. Sorry.”

  “I can come back later if that’s better.”

  “No. It’ll only take me a few minutes.”

  “Okay.” She closed the door behind her and followed him into the living room but stopped at the threshold. “Are you all right? Don’t take this the wrong way, but you look like shit.”

  He glanced at her over his shoulder. “Long couple of days.”

  “Is this about the fire?”

  “Some of it.” He picked up the metal water bowl and carried it into the kitchen, pouring what was left in it into the sink and rinsing it out. He stacked it on top of the matching food dish and placed both into the plastic bin that held the dog food. All that was left was the bed and he’d finally be by himself. Again.

  Fuck, that was a depressing thought. He’d gotten used to spending time with Zoe. That had been the hardest part of not seeing her for the last couple of days.

  He missed her. But not enough to force himself somewhere he wasn’t wanted.

  “Tim?”

  “What?” Bree had asked him something and he’d completely spaced. It wasn’t like him to zone out like that.

  “I asked if this was about Zoe.”

  “Yeah. I guess so.”

  Bree sat in the recliner next to the couch. “How is she doing?”

  “Two days ago, she wasn’t handling it so well.”

  “You haven’t talked to her in two days?”

  Fuck. Looked like it was therapy time. Jase had told him once that Bree was a good listener. Hell, maybe she’d have some words of wisdom for him on how to get over Zoe.

  “You want a beer?” he asked. If he was going to bare his soul to his soon-to-be sister-in-law, he needed a beer.

  “Sure.”

  He grabbed two longnecks from the fridge, popped the tops, and brought them back to the living room. Handing her one, he dropped into the corner of the couch closest to her and took a long pull from his bottle.

  “So what happened?” she asked.

  He picked at the label on the bottle and told her about the fire and discovering the building’s owner was the one who set it.

  “Do you know why he set it?”

  “Probably the most fucked-up, selfish reason I could never even imagine.”

  Her eyebrows rose and she tilted her head, waiting for the reveal.

  “He’s getting a divorce and his wife was getting the building since she was able to show that she put up the initial down payment for it. He figured by starting the fire in the restaurant, it would look like an accident and he’d get the insurance money from the sale.”

  “Except he didn’t know there were cameras in the restaurant,” she guessed.

  Tim shook his head. “They’d had them installed the week before. He had no clue.”

  “I’m guessing since it was arson the insurance company isn’t going to pay out.”

  “Nope.”

  “Holy shit. Does Zoe know?”

  “I don’t know. I’m sure someone’s told her.”

  “What do you mean you’re sure someone has told her?”

  “The morning after the fire, Zoe said she wanted to be alone and walked away. She hasn’t answered any of my calls or my texts.”

  “Are you worried she’d hurt herself?”

  He shook his head. “Mrs. Wilson, our neighbor, said she’d seen her and she was fine. Sad and depressed, but otherwise fine. That’s the only reason I haven’t busted down her door.”

  “But you want to bust down her door,” she said.

  “What’s the point? It wouldn’t do any more good than it did the first time I offered to help her. I told her I’d help support her until she figures out what to do, but she blew up at me. I’m not going to force myself on someone who doesn’t need me.”

  “Now I see where Jase gets it. Your dad is like this too, isn’t he?”

  His brows furrowed. “Like what?”

  “Super protective. Wanting to rush in and save the day and protect the damsel in distress.”

  “No. What’s wrong with wanting to help the people you care about?” He silently turned the bottle in his hands for several heartbeats. “Is it really asking too much to be needed by someone?”

  She didn’t answer him directly. “Tim, do you think I need Jase?”

  His head popped up. “What? No. I think he needs you more than you need him.”

  “He doesn’t actually. He’d be fine without me. Maybe still living like a hermit, but he’d be fine.” She shifted in her seat and leaned closer. “I’m going to let you in on a secret. Most people don’t need anyone else. Especially strong, independent people.” She paused. “I don’t need Jase. I want him.”

  He shook his head. “I don’t understand.”

  She sighed. “It’s like a pair of shoes. I need shoes to protect my feet. I want a pair of gold, laser etched, platform, peep toe Christian Louboutin Privé heels, but I don’t need them to protect my feet. It’s the same with relationships. I don’t need Jase—I’d be perfectly fine without him—but he’s my version of those unicorn shoes. Thankfully sometimes life works out and you get what you want.”

  Out of all that, he understood feet and shoes. Everything in between needed an interpreter. “So I should figure out what kind of shoes Zoe likes?”

  Bree chuckled. “Let me try another way. For women like Zoe—women like me—it’s about the approach. If she thinks you’re offering because you don’t think she’s capable of doing it herself, she’s going to be insulted. She’s smart, determined, independent, and can take care of herself. She doesn’t need someone to do it for her.”

  “But she does. The bookstore is destroyed.”

  “Yes, her bookstore is destroyed, but she will figure out how to save herself.” She paused as if weighing her words. “Strong, independent women don’t need someone to fix our problems for us. We especially don’t need a man to come in and rescue us from whatever life throws our way. What we want is someone who is able to stand beside us or even behind us and applaud our success. We want a partner. We want someone who we can share our problems with simply because we need to bitch about something. We don’t need you to solve our problems for us—we just need to you listen to them.

  “I hate to oversimplify it, but if you wouldn’t make the offer to a guy friend…don’t make the offer to Zoe.” She leaned back and drank her beer.

  The problem was, he would make the same offer to a guy friend.

  He played that scenario out in his head and realized it wouldn’t be
the same. While he might offer to help Kevin in the same situation, he’d expect him to chip in for groceries and utilities and would expect him to find a job or a way to support himself. What he’d envisioned with Zoe was supporting her completely for as long as it took.

  He scrubbed his hands through his hair. “So what do I do? Give her time?”

  “Fuck no. If Jase had given me time when he fucked up, I’d have walked away. Be there. Tell her you’re there. Don’t let her forget that you’re there. You’re going to have to figure out what it will take for her to realize you’re in it for the long haul.”

  He wasn’t sure what he was going to do to make that happen or figure out how to be Zoe’s unicorn shoes. Hell, he had a hard time even thinking “unicorn shoes.”

  “Jase said you were a good listener. He said people open up to you like they’d known you their entire lives.”

  She squinted her eyes at him. “Did he now?”

  He sipped his beer. “Okay, what he actually said was it’s a pain in the ass that complete strangers feel the need to share their life story with you, especially when you listen to the whole damn thing and then get invited to family dinners as if you’ve known those people your entire life.”

  “One time. That happened one time and the couple was very nice.” She tilted her head. “You going to be okay?”

  He gave her a half-hearted smile. “Eventually. As soon as I figure out how to be Zoe’s unicorn shoes.” He shook his head and stared up at the ceiling while sipping his beer. Unicorn shoes.

  Bree smirked. “Telling her you love her is a good place to start.”

  Chapter 28

  Zoe braced herself on the banister as she eased her way down the stairs on stiff legs while the percussion section of a marching band beat out a rhythm in her head. A three-day bender might have been a really bad idea. Bright sunlight streamed through the living room windows and made her head throb even more.

  She stared at the mess of empty plates, glasses, and microwave meal containers strewn around her living room. The thought of smelling any residual alcohol in the glasses made her stomach roll.