Heart Thief

by Taylor Dean

  It’s Monday morning and Zane starts work today. He hasn’t made an appearance yet. I’m sure my practicing woke him up when I started at five am, earlier than usual. I couldn’t sleep.

  When he finally walks out, owning his swagger, dressed in ACUs (Army Camouflage Uniform) and looking so handsome, I miss my fingering and an awful jarring sound emanates from the piano. Artie whines from his bed.

  “Sorry I disturbed you,” he says, rubbing his ears. “Ouch.”

  I smooth my palms over my thighs. “Hard to cover up a mistake on the piano. It happens, though. All the time.”

  “It makes getting it right all the more impressive.”

  Small talk. Ignore the elephant in the room. Pretend like nothing happened between us. It’s what we’ve been doing since Chinatown on Saturday. Keeping up a light banter.

  Technically, nothing did happen between us.

  I wish I could convince my mind of it.

  I keep things light. “First day on a new job. Shall I make you a sack lunch? I’ll even write have a great day on your napkin.”

  “Do it and I’ll frame it in my office.”

  “Nah, the element of surprise is gone. Maybe next time.”

  He leans down to tighten the laces on his boots. “Fine. Ruin my day at only six-thirty in the morning.”

  “Hey, you lied to me.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “You do know what socks are.”

  He laughs aloud as he stands. “Guilty. Join me for breakfast?”

  I want to, therefore I shouldn’t. “No, thanks. I think I’ll keep practicing.”

  He mock stabs his heart. “You’re far too dedicated, Mila. Especially at this hour.”

  “This hour is the best time of the day,” I holler as he retreats to the kitchen.

  “For sleeping,” he hollers back.

  I smile as I return to my piano. My safe place. I’ll hide here whenever he’s home. Ignore the spark between us.

  Zane returns with his bowl of cereal and parks himself on the couch, watching me intently. I keep playing as though I’m in front of an audience. Total concentration. I let nothing distract me. It’s the place I have to enter when I perform. Or I’d blank every time.

  When I’m done, I realize Zane is now standing next to the piano, his finished cereal bowl on the coffee table. His aftershave pricks my senses.

  “I could sit and listen to you play all day,” he says.

  That was the best I’ve ever played that Mozart number. I wanted it to be perfect for Zane. Crowds often applaud me. But hearing Zane’s compliment makes my heart soar.

  “And you did. Several times last week.”

  “My private performances. Lucky me.”

  I tear my eyes away from his and start to play again, hiding in my piano. “Enjoy your day,” I return lightly.

  “You too. See you for a Jeopardy rematch tonight. I will prevail.”

  Not if I come home late after symphony practice. Which I have every intention of doing.

  It’s for the best. I don’t want to spend more time with him. I like him too much and it can’t go anywhere.

  Dead end.

  Besides, I hardly know the guy. My feelings are silly, surface level stuff. Physical attraction only.

  When Zane leaves, I don’t acknowledge his departure.

  When Ryker’s ringtone blasts through the air, I jump. It’s time to have a serious talk and I’m dreading it.

  “Good morning, Mila. I trust you had a good weekend.” It’s the end of the day for him, yet he’s still in his suit, not a hair out of place, looking fresh and handsome.

  “I did. Yes. Thank you. It was good. Fun. Relaxing.” TMI. Stop, Mila. I almost added the words eye opening and breathtaking.

  “Good. I’m so glad you enjoyed yourself. You deserve a break. You work so hard to achieve your dreams.”

  Has he always spoken so stiffly, so formally? I suppose he has. I’m comparing him to Zane and I don’t want to go down that road. They’re two very different people and that’s okay.

  “Thank you.”

  “May I apologize for Friday night? I’m so sorry my mother upset you.”

  I let my breath out heavily. It’s time to get real. “I was more upset with you, Ryker.”

  He rubs his neck. “I know. I probably shouldn’t have asked my mother to get involved.”

  Probably? “No, you shouldn’t have. If you have an issue, bring it to my attention. Communication is key in a relationship.”

  “I hate that Zane is living there with you. I hate it,” he blurts with an angry raised voice. “I don’t trust that jerk. He tries to take everything that’s mine and I won’t stand for it!”

  His nostrils flare, his expression turning into a fiery mask of rage.

  And then it’s gone, as quickly as it appeared. He rubs his five ‘o clock shadow as he visibly calms himself down.

  “I’m sorry, Mila. Zane always upsets me.”

  I’m so taken aback by what I witnessed, I’m speechless. Does Ryker have a temper? Does it flare up on occasion? How has he hidden this from me for so long? Do I really know him?

  “I don’t understand. Then why did you let him stay?”

  “I told you, I like knowing where he is and what he’s up to. It’s already been a week. Has he really found a house?”

  “He has. And he put an offer on it.” If he’s paying attention to what Zane is up to, shouldn’t he know that already?

  Something is niggling at me and I realize what it is. Ryker allows his distrust of Zane to take precedence over his fear of Zane living with me. There’s something wrong with that logic. If he’s so worried about Zane’s behavior with me, he shouldn’t have let him stay.

  “Good. He should be outta there soon.”

  Not the issue. It’s time for me to be totally honest with him. “Ryker, I think we need to talk.”

  “I apologized. I’m sorry. It was wrong of me to include my mother. But she’s there and she can see what’s going on. I can’t. She has to be my eyes.”

  He doesn’t trust me, but then, maybe he’s right not to. My heart has been easily swayed. He must’ve sensed my wavering long before I did.

  I’m just going to blurt out how I’m feeling. It has to be said. “Ryker, it’s not only that. We have bigger issues and I think it’s time to face them. I’ve thought a lot about this and I’ve realized there’s something missing between us. I’m not positive we’re right for each other. You must’ve felt it too. That’s why you didn’t make things official before you left.”

  He’s silent for much too long, his face rigid, his jawline tense. Do my words make him feel anything? He breathes in deeply before he speaks. “Please don’t give up on us. I know this separation is hard. All I ask is that you wait until I return home and give us one more chance before you make any decisions about us. Please, Mila. We owe it to ourselves to at least give this more time.”

  I do still have love for him left in my heart. A little sliver. I thought I wanted to marry him. Those feelings are still there, but I feel them slipping away. I was so sure. Now I’m very unsure.

  I decide to say how I’m feeling directly to his face. “I’m very unsure of us, Ryker. I feel like I need to be totally honest with you. I love you, but I don’t think we’re a match. I think we’re meant to be friends, but I don’t think we’re meant to be married.” I pause. “I don’t think we should see each other anymore in that context.” There. I said it. To my surprise, I feel so much relief.

  His face flashes red as his eyes widen. Then his reaction once again disappears, like I imagined it. “I understand. It’s a huge decision. I’ve felt myself wavering too.”

  Whoa. Wait, he did? Maybe that shouldn’t come as a shock. I think I knew that the moment he didn’t propose. Turns out, he was right. I’m glad we’re not engaged.

  “Okay, then. I think I should move out. It doesn’t feel right to live here anymore. I feel like I’m taking advantage of you.”

  He
frowns, this time not bothering to cover up his feelings. “Please don’t do that, Mila. If you leave, I’ll have to make other arrangements. I’ll need to find another caretaker; I’ll need to find someone who can take care of Arthur. It’ll be a huge headache.” He places his hand on his forehead. “I really need someone to take care of my home.”

  Huh. He seems more upset about having to find a new caretaker than losing me. That’s telling.

  I guess if there’s honesty between us, I don’t mind being his caretaker. It does make life a lot easier for me.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes, of course I’m sure.”

  I struggle with my feelings, a tug of war on my heart. On one hand, I want out. On the other, I don’t want to leave him in the lurch. It’s on the tip of my tongue to suggest that Zane could be his caretaker, but I bite my tongue before that atrocity can be mumbled out loud. “All right then, I’ll stay.”

  He breathes a deep sigh of relief. “Thank you.” He pauses, gathering his thoughts. “Mila, let me reiterate this one more time. I don’t want to give up on us. I want to continue with our relationship when I return home. I want to see where it takes us. We have something between us, there’s no denying it. Please, promise me you’ll give us another chance. That’s all I’m asking for.”

  I don’t owe him anything. I’ve already given him so much of my time. I can’t think of another way to say it’s over without being cruel. I hate this. “Ryker . . . of course I’ll see you when you return. But I can’t promise anything else. I’m sorry. I really don’t see a future for us.”

  His eyes narrow slightly and a flash of anger crosses his features before he covers it up. It was there, I know it was. I didn’t imagine it.

  “You know I’m falling for you. More and more each day.”

  Is he? He sounds insincere to me now. Like it’s a last-ditch effort to sway me.

  I don’t say I love you back. I can no longer say it aloud and feel like I’m telling the truth. I nod a few times instead. He still can’t out and out say I love you. I feel like a fool to have held onto this relationship for so long. I should’ve known better.

  “We’ll work this out, Mila. I know we will.”

  “Ryker, I just said . . .”

  “I know, I know. I heard you. But I still have hope.” He studies the screen. “Is that a bowl and a spoon on the coffee table?”

  I don’t even bother turning around. I know Zane’s cereal bowl is still sitting there. I don’t clean up after him. He gets around to it on his own time. “I’ll take care of it.”

  “See that you do,” he says firmly. “Goodbye.”

  I hang up, wondering if I made things worse or better. Did I give him hope?

  I have no idea. One thing I do know is that I let go of a future I thought was my path in life. It wasn’t and I feel that loss keenly. I feel restless, like I don’t know what to do with myself. I wander through the penthouse, walking back and forth enough times to carve out a path in the floor.

  What now?

  I don’t like the present situation I’m in. It doesn’t feel right. It’s only temporary, though.

  Ryker’s journal, still sitting untouched on the nightstand, calls to me. I haven’t wanted to read it, feeling as though I would somehow be trespassing.

  But today of all days, I need to know him, to understand him, to feel what he’s feeling.

  I plop down on the bed and open the book smack dab in the middle.

  Woke up.

  Worked out.

  Had protein shake.

  Sent emails.

  Drove to work.

  Productive day.

  Ate a clean lunch.

  Saw Dad.

  Visited with Mom.

  Grabbed a burger.

  Went home.

  Watched the news.

  Went to bed.

  Well, that wasn’t a very exciting day. I flip through the pages looking for an actual entry.

  I can’t find one.

  Each day is the same—a general laundry list of what he did with little variance. He asked me to read this, feeling it would help me get to know him better.

  It does.

  It tells me more about him than he can ever imagine. This can’t be right. I search every page and it’s more of the same. I search out some of the pages marked with the dates when I know we went out together. It never says anything more than Went out with Mila.

  There are no feelings, no emotions bleeding onto the page. This is who Ryker is. He lives his life and does what is expected of him. Like a robot.

  I can’t do this.

  I slam the book closed and toss it onto the nightstand. I pull off Ryker’s promise ring and place it in his top drawer where he keeps his watches.

  I am no longer promised to him. I need to rethink my life. It feels oddly like starting over again and I feel lost.

  When Ryker returns, I will end things with him again, face to face. Not through the phone.

  In my heart, I know I want more.

  Much, much more.

  chapter seventeen

  ~

  ZANE WALKS IN looking bone weary. “Hey.”

  “Hey.” I glance at my watch. It’s two in the morning. “Late night, huh?”

  I told myself I wasn’t waiting up for him, but who am I kidding? I push my blanket and pillow aside, but I don’t flick the lights on. The TV illuminates the room, giving off a soft glow. Artie moans at the disturbance, walks over to my pillow, and curls up on it, promptly falling back to sleep.

  Zane and I have settled into a routine. We often have Lucky Charms together in the morning for breakfast. Each evening, we collapse onto the couch when I get home from practice and he gets home from visiting his father. We veg in front of the TV, eating dinner and watching Jeopardy, each of us trying to answer the most questions correctly. With our schedules, it’s really the only time we see each other. I stopped fighting the inevitable interaction and now I look forward to it.

  Zane flops onto the couch and sighs heavily. “Saved the world today.”

  “I’m eternally grateful. I did not save the world today, but I did make baked chicken thighs, potatoes, and fresh green beans for dinner. Hungry?”

  “I am. But I don’t think I can get up. I’m beat.”

  “I’ll get it for you.”

  “I’m eternally grateful,” he throws back at me.

  I bring him a plate stacked high with food just as he finishes removing his boots.

  He has also removed his ACU jacket and is now wearing his tan t-shirt, tucked smoothly into his ACU pants, along with a belt. He looks trim and fit. It’s true what they say about a man in uniform. Gets me every time.

  “Thanks, Mila. You’re a lifesaver.”

  “You’re welcome. But don’t get used to it.” I join him on the couch. “So, tell me how you saved the world today.”

  Zane has been here another week now. He closed on his new home, but renovations are being done before he can move in. Ryker’s not happy about it, but once again, he didn’t ask Zane to leave.

  I’m certainly not going to ask him to leave. I enjoy his company. But we do keep our distance from one another. No more hand holding or hair brushing. No more intimate dancing.

  “Got a call for an emergency response to render safe a chemical agent in a small town in northern California.”

  “A chemical agent? That sounds scary.”

  “Yep. Technically, it was a nerve agent.”

  “Even scarier.”

  Zane takes a bite of chicken. “Me and my team responded by helicopter. We get there and the whole place is crawling with cop cars and fire trucks, their lights blazing. A deputy sheriff greeted us, and I couldn’t help but notice we were standing in a high school football field.”

  “A high school? Strange place for a nerve agent.”

  “That’s what I thought,” he says, spearing green beans onto his fork. “He explained that a high school chemistry teacher had been doing a class
project where the students made G-series nerve agent in an enclosure and tested it on rats.”

  “That’s crazy.”

  “Right? It killed the rats and . . . let’s just say, they didn’t die a happy or peaceful death. Once they’d completed their experiment, they couldn’t get the desensitizing chemical to the agent inside the enclosure because it had accidentally fallen over in the wrong part of the maze. The teacher panicked when he realized he now had a deadly nerve agent in a classroom full of students with no way to desensitize it without opening the enclosure and exposing everyone to it.”

  “Oh my gosh. So, they called you guys?”

  “First, the teacher dismissed all the students. Then he called the principal, who called the fire department, who called the police. Each, in turn, looked inside the room, saw all the dead rats in the enclosure, and refused to enter a second time, knowing it was beyond their scope. They evacuated the high school, cordoned off the area, and called the State Emergency Operations Center for help. They called the FBI, and the FBI called the Army, and the Army called us.”

  “What did you do?”

  “After calculating the downwind hazards, we directed everyone to get farther away from the building. A lot farther away.”

  “Smart move.”

  “We donned our protective gear and went inside the lab. We found the huge plexiglass enclosure glued to the surface of a table in the middle of the room. This thing was elaborate. It had all kinds of controls and levers so you could move things around inside the maze. The problem was, it was huge and not easy to move. So, the usual fix for this would be a three-to-one ratio of high explosives to nerve agent and blow that sucker in place. Problem solved.”

  “But you couldn’t do that?” I ask.

  “It would’ve blown up a huge portion of the school. We figured that wouldn’t be appreciated by the community.”

  “I think they would’ve been relieved to have the nerve agent gone.”

  “Maybe so. But we really didn’t want to blow up the school. We took a break and discussed our options. Moving the table with the enclosure presented a problem because it wouldn’t fit through the door. We didn’t want to turn it sideways and risk any nerve agent escaping into the air.”