The Heart Knows What the Heart Wants

by Lori L. Clark

  Hours later, muted sunlight filtered between the window blinds. Star opened her eyes and blinked a few times to dislodge the sleep that kept her lids glued together. For a few seconds, she was disoriented, until she remembered climbing into Shane's bed.

  She held her breath, listening for a sign that he was already awake. When she finally dared a peek in his direction, he was propped up on his elbow, staring at her intently. "I couldn't sleep," she apologized sheepishly.

  He smirked down at her lazily. "You do realize I sleep naked, right?"

  She swallowed hard. "I tried not to think about that."

  He laughed and asked, "Did you get some sleep?"

  "Yes, a little," she said. She slid her legs from beneath the covers and climbed out of bed. She put on her robe and slippers. "I'm going to take a shower."

  He watched bemusedly as she fled from his bed. "Maybe one of these days, you'll stop running, Beautiful."

  She gave him a fleeting glance over her shoulder. "See you downstairs."

  In the shower, she thought about all the things she knew about Derek. She often found herself over-thinking. She couldn't count the number of times in the past when she'd been determined to leave him, only to reconsider later. Numerous times, she'd talked herself out of leaving, always believing she had nowhere better to go. Even thinking that being with him was in some perverse way better than being alone. Then there was the part of her brain that told her she somehow deserved what she got, and that she could really do no better than him.

  Things could have always been worse. He worked, he brought home a paycheck every week, he helped her with the bills, and when he was sober he'd treated her okay. She had no one to confide in, or anyone who would support her if she chose to leave. She was ashamed of herself for staying with him as long as she did.

  After her shower, she dressed in a pair of jeans and a hoodie before joining Shane downstairs. She painted on a false happy bravado and walked into the kitchen. Shane's attention immediately fixated on the dark circles under her eyes. "You know, we don't have to go look at cars today. Would you rather just hang around here for the day?" he asked.

  She walked into the room and poured herself a cup of coffee. "No. I think having a car of my own is more important than ever, given the circumstances."

  Shane narrowed his eyes and folded his arms in front of him. "Why?"

  "I've been thinking. Maybe it would be best if I went someplace else," she said.

  Shane reeled from that bombshell. They'd discussed this. She'd assured him she had no plans to go anywhere. Why now? She was safer here where he could protect her.

  "What the hell? Why?" he asked.

  She waved her hand in the air. "I don't know. I just can't think straight right now," she said sadly. She collapsed onto a chair and buried her face in her hands. She felt caught between a rock and a hard place. She knew she couldn't keep running from Derek. His tormenting her had to end.

  Shane came up behind her and rested his hands on her shoulders. "Don't invite trouble and don't stop living your life because of something that may never happen," he breathed in her ear.

  She clasped his hand with hers and sighed. "You're right. Queen of Doom and Gloom. That's me."

  "Snap out of it, okay?" he offered lightheartedly.

  She tilted her head back, resting it against him as she stared up into his handsome face. "You're right. I left because I was tired of being afraid to live my life. I'll be damned if I'll continue living in fear. I mean, seriously. What are the chances of him even finding me here?"

  "Slim to fucking none?" Shane offered.

  "Exactly!" she agreed. "Now, go take a shower and let's get up to Hannibal and find me a car before I change my mind again."

  He bent down and kissed her on the forehead, breathing in her lavender-vanilla scent. "Be right back, Blue."

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  "So, you gave up on your dream to be a rock star. Wasn't there anything else you wanted to do with your life?" Shane asked Star as she drove them toward Hannibal.

  A twinge of regret knotted inside her stomach. There were many dreams she'd had once upon a time, including a nice house with the proverbial white picket fence, and a supportive husband. She'd wanted two kids and swore she'd be a better mother to them than her own mother had been to her.

  She didn't have to worry about being any kind of mother at all now, seeing as how she'd never give birth. Yet another thing Derek had ruined for her. She'd been about seven and a half months pregnant when something set him off on a drunken tangent. He held her down and repeatedly punched her in the stomach.

  She'd lost the baby, and there had been such severe damage to her reproductive organs, the doctors didn't hold out much hope that she'd ever conceive -- much less carry to term. That should have been the final straw for her, but it wasn't.

  "Not really. I never went to college or anything. I did astrology readings for friends, but that wasn't a dream I aspired to or anything." She sighed. "I messed around with jewelry making for a while. I sold some things on eBay and Etsy, it was just a hobby, mostly."

  "It's never too late, you know," he said as he stared out the Jeep window.

  "Pot meet kettle." She laughed. "Why didn't you ever go to college?"

  He was silent for so long she wondered if he was going to skip giving her an answer altogether. He took a deep breath and said, "You want the novel length version or the condensed one?"

  "Just start at the beginning and talk until you run out of things to say," she encouraged.

  "In high school I played basketball. I was good enough that I earned a full ride scholarship to Iowa State." He stopped talking and peered sideways at her. "I told you that part of my story already."

  "Yes, but you never told me what happened. Why you didn't follow through with your plans," she said.

  "A bad car crash. I was pinned inside the car. My leg was smashed. That pretty much fucked me out of the basketball scholarship," he said, filled with bitter regrets.

  "I'm sorry," she said. "Did you ever think about becoming a coach?"

  "Those who can, do. Those who can't, teach," he said bitterly. "Anyway, I decided I'd take a year off and try to save up some money. I figured maybe I'd be able to work my way through college. I hadn't given up on going at that point, it just got delayed."

  She took her eyes off the highway long enough to peek over at him. His eyes, dark and heavy, met hers. He pulled his hand through his long hair and took a deep breath. "Then, my mom found out she had cancer... well when she died I honestly wanted to die right along with her. Believe me I felt sorry enough for myself that I thought about doing just that...until Aunt Neona, and rehab happened."

  "You're still young, Shane, you shouldn't give up on your dreams," she said quietly.

  "No, I don't think college is in my stars. Every time I thought I'd be able to go, something bad happened. I guess superstition keeps me from trying again."

  "Superstition? You superstitious? I find that hard to believe, Mr. Left Brain," she said. She smiled at him. "I think you should check into it."

  Shane shook his head and faced out the window. He felt like such a loser. He'd never be able to afford college with what he earned at the convenience store. Studying the stars was just a long gone pipedream.

  Star bit her bottom lip and remembered the night he'd had the nightmare and the girl's name he'd called out. "Who's Lila?" she asked.

  His head whipped around, and his eyes narrowed to slits. "What the hell did you hear about Lila?"

  She flinched at the tone of his voice. "You were having a nightmare one night. You called out her name in your sleep."

  His jaw twitched and he said, "Lila was my high school girlfriend."

  "Oh, I'm sorry. Messy break up?"

  "You could say that; she's dead. I killed her," he said. "I think that's enough twenty-one questions for now."

  "What do you mean, 'you killed her'?" she asked. When he didn't reply, she reached her hand across the s
pace separating them and rested it on his thigh. "Since I know you're no cold-blooded murderer, I'm sure whatever happened was an accident. You can't keep it bottled up inside forever, Shane."

  His eyes dropped to her hand on his leg. "I could offer you the same advice, you know."

  The two of them remained silent for the rest of the ride. She'd never seen him in such an agitated mood. Her past experiences with Derek warned her not to push. Especially given the amount of painful details he'd already shared.

  She turned into the parking lot and slowly cruised up and down row after row of used cars. A small white Ford Focus sparked her interest. She stopped the Jeep and hopped out to take a closer look without saying anything to Shane. Walking around the car, she saw that it was in surprisingly good shape for its age and mileage. The price was a bit more than she'd wanted to spend, but it was still doable and likely negotiable. She opened the door and got in.

  The passenger side door opened, and Shane folded his lanky body into the seat beside her. She refused to look at him. The weight of his gaze caused her to squirm in the car seat. "Look, I don't want you to think I'm a heartless dick. Or some sort of a sociopath. I should probably clarify a few things for you," he told her. He reached toward her and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

  She reached for his hand and squeezed. "I don't think you are either of those things. Trust me, I've had firsthand experience with someone who fits both of those bills," she said softly.

  "Lila was my girlfriend all through high school. She was an amazing girl," Shane said.

  A fist-sized lump formed inside Star's throat. She nodded and turned toward him. "Normally, this is where I should interject something totally unselfish. Like, 'you don't owe me an explanation,' or something that would imply I'm willing to blindly trust you. But truthfully, I'm tired of misplaced trust. I'm tired of always believing the best in people, only to turn around and have it bite me in the ass. So by all means, feel free to enlighten me," she encouraged him.

  "I'd just graduated, and we were out celebrating. I'd had too much to drink, but was too fucking stupid to hand my keys over to someone else. We were only going a few miles, to the next party. Nothing could possibly happen, I was invincible, right?" He laughed bitterly.

  "I blew right through a stop sign. I never even saw the other guy coming. He plowed into the passenger side of my truck, with enough force to flip us. Lila was thrown from the vehicle...they told me later that she died instantly. I didn't get so lucky."

  Star's face heated with instant remorse. She turned in her seat, facing him full on. Tears streamed down his tortured face. "God, Shane. I'm so sorry. I had no idea. I shouldn't have pressed." She reached for him and pulled his head against her chest.

  They were interrupted when the car door opened behind her. "Can I help you folks?" a deep voice asked.

  Shane cleared his throat and pulled free of her arms. She turned and looked up at the man standing there eyeing her curiously. "Keys? Do you have the keys? I'd like to take this car for a drive."

  The salesman looked between her and Shane skeptically. He nodded and extended his hand. "William Barnhart," he said. Star shook his hand and forced him to step back as she got out of the car.

  "Mr. Barnhart. Star Lambert. Paul Caldwell sent us." she told him.

  Just like that, the doubt left his expression, and he smiled broadly at her. "Good, good. Come on up to the showroom, and I'll need a copy of your license and proof of insurance, and then we'll take this little gem for a drive."

  A few hours later, Star was behind the wheel of her brand new -- for her -- Ford Focus on her way back to Red Vale. Shane followed behind in Neona's Jeep. She was pretty proud of her skills of negotiation and felt a strong, inexplicable sense of relief now that she had her own car again.

  Chapter Thirty

  Roxy had done her part and gotten Taylor's cell phone, and then Derek had held up his end of the bargain by fucking her in the parking lot behind Crow's Landing. He grinned at the look of terror on her face as he wrapped his fingers around her neck. The way her eyes bulged made his dick rock hard.

  He didn't want to kill the whore; he just liked the feeling of power it gave him -- the control he felt as she struggled beneath his iron tight chokehold -- knowing he could end her life if he wanted, while repeatedly shoving his cock into her. Previous experience told him how far he could push things, how long he could choke her before she would lose consciousness.

  While simultaneously letting go of her neck and burying himself to the hilt inside her, his release came just as she sputtered and gasped for air. He laughed at the terror in her eyes and watched as her features morphed into fury. She swiped her talons across the side of his face, causing him to fly into a blind rage.

  Singlehandedly entrapping both of her wrists in one of his giant paws, he held her immobile while he pulled his still semi-hard dick out of her and tossed the used condom to the ground. He jerked her upright with one hand and crashed his other fist against her jaw hard enough to cause her head to snap back.

  Roxy should have left well-enough alone and walked away, but she'd learned a thing or two about self-defense. She'd be damned if she'd let him get away with nearly choking her to death. He never even saw it coming when she jackhammered her knee into his crotch. The force and pain it inflicted on him was enough that he momentarily loosened his grip, allowing her to stumble free from his hold.

  He dropped to his knees and struggled to catch his breath. The bitch's knee to his junk caused the oxygen to rocket from his lungs. He watched as she yanked her dress down, struggling to cover herself. His eyes narrowed into angry slits and he slowly pushed himself upright. He zipped and buttoned the fly of his jeans and grinned maniacally at her.

  Most women would have been grateful to be free from such a sadistic prick, but she was too lit up on whatever her drug of choice had been for the night. Her muscles twitched and her movements were jerky as she lunged for him. "You could have killed me, you crazy bastard!" she forced out from between clenched teeth.

  He quickly brought his elbow up, and with one quick jab, smashed her nose hard enough he heard the sound of crunching bones and cartilage. She teetered backwards, losing her balance, and fell on her ass. Her legs spread wide in front of her and loose gravel dug into the palms of her hands, drawing blood. She crab-walked backwards, trying to put distance from him as he loomed over her.

  He lifted his leg and crushed his boot into her face. Her head connected with the ground and made a sickening thud. He kicked her repeatedly until she blacked out. He then strolled casually away the few yards to where his truck sat idling. He climbed inside and was about to leave when he remembered the phone.

  "Fuck me," he grunted under his breath. He used the sleeve of his sweatshirt to cover his hands and picked it up. He scanned through the messages until he found what he was looking for: a message from Estelle. So my little butterfly flew north.

  His memory was like a steel trap. He never forgot anything. Especially numbers. He repeated it in his twisted brain, locking it inside, and rolled down the window flinging it in the direction of Roxy's lifeless body.

  He gazed at her and knew she wasn't dead. Some unlucky bastard would find the dumb whore and she'd be up and fucking around again in no time. His back tire rolled over the shattered cell phone as he drove from the lot.

  When he got home, he tore off his clothes and threw them in the wash before he went into the bathroom to shower Roxy's scent off him. Afterwards, he glared long and hard at his reflection in the mirror over the sink, checking out the scratches Roxy had given him. She'd managed to get in a couple of pretty good swipes with her dagger-like nails. "Stupid fucking bitch," he growled.

  He eased his fingers over the deep gouges she'd carved into his cheek. There wasn't any peroxide under the sink, so he had to use rubbing alcohol to disinfect the wounds. He felt the burn clear into the center of his bones, causing him to suck in a quick breath.

  When he was satisfied that the wou
nd was clean, he put on a pair of boxers and sat down in front of the TV with a bottle of beer to formulate his next move. His thoughts drifted to Roxy. He wasn't worried about her ratting him out for beating her. Everyone knew Roxy fucked anything that walked. He laughed as he remembered something his dad used to say about sluts: "If she had as many pricks on the outside as she's had on the inside, she'd look like a fucking porcupine."

  Derek roared with laughter and downed half his beer in a couple swallows.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Star parked her new car out front on the street and walked toward the house. She stopped and watched as Shane hopped on his motorcycle and left without saying goodbye. She stared after him until he disappeared out of view. Somewhere inside she willed him to turn around and come back, but he didn't.

  Up in her room, she tucked her legs beneath her and stared out the window into the big backyard. Her conversation with Shane had left her disquieted. Now, more than ever, she was convinced that being just his friend was not a viable option. She wanted much, much more than that, and it killed her that she had nothing to offer him. He deserved better than her, even if he couldn't see it...she could.

  Her chest tightened as she thought about her future. She had absolutely no life purpose. The only real job she'd held longer than a few months was the bartending stint at Crow's Landing, and she had few marketable skills.

  Now that she'd bought the car, spending a sizeable portion of her savings, she had to figure out a way to bring in some money again. There were few options. She could continue to live at Neona's house. She could continue working at the convenience store -- at least until Neona's leg was healed enough to go back to work, but she wanted more for herself. She was tired of just existing. She was ready to live her life with purpose for a change.

  She pushed off the bed and walked over to where she'd stowed her bags inside the closet. She didn't know what had made her pack her jewelry making kit, but she was glad she'd listened to her intuition for a change. She took the small plastic storage boxes from the bottom of her duffle bag and began going through what she had left.