Moments in Time: The Complete Novella Collection

by Dori Lavelle

  “I’m not your responsibility. I never was. I’m a grown woman. I can do whatever it is I want.”

  “Looks like you still have your stubborn streak. Well, it won’t get me off your back. Right now, I’m making you my responsibility. You clearly need help if you’re sleeping in a shelter. And as your friend, I’d like to help.”

  Anger coursed through Melisa’s body. Not necessarily directed toward him, but at the situation. The fire and seeing Heat brought back memories she’d worked hard to repress, and those memories were making it difficult to be grateful. “I was doing fine all by myself, thank you.” She turned her head to the window.

  “Can you even afford to pay your medical bills?”

  Melisa looked down at the bed and said nothing.

  “That’s what I thought.” Heat’s eyes were the color of thunderclouds as he stood. “You stay in here as long as you have to. I’ll handle it.” He paused, his dark gaze piercing the distance between them. “And when you leave this place, you’ll move in with me until you get back on your feet.”

  Before Melisa could respond, Heat marched out of the room to handle it, leaving her staring at the door, seething with rage. She felt like throwing something. Maybe the vase of roses?

  How dare he give her orders like he owned her? And why was her reaction to him so volatile after all these years? Her heart was racing. Living in the same house as him was out of the question.

  They say you never forget your first love. How could she, when he just kept showing up in her life? While married to Scott, she’d shoved Heat to the back of her mind, and she’d been happy. Scott was the love of her life, she often told herself. But now that he was gone, her foolish heart seemed to think it was back in business.

  Could she afford to say no to Heat’s offer? Did she even have a choice? God knew her life was a mess and she needed all the help she could get. But she hated being a burden. Hated being seen as weak and vulnerable. That was why she’d left behind her old life in the first place. The thought of people seeing her broken, pitying her, made her want to curl up and die.

  But it seemed the only way to keep her promise to Carlene, a promise to start over, was to accept help. And the only person offering it was the man she wanted to keep her heart far away from. She needed Heat’s help just as much as she wanted to throw it back in his irresistible face.

  ***

  “I’m sorry,” Melisa said when Heat reentered the room. “I—”

  “Suck at accepting help?” Heat said, a trace of laughter in his voice. He pushed his hands into his pockets and approached the bed. “Tell me something I don’t know. I’m not surprised you bolted instead of leaning on someone. You’ve proven to be quite good at it. How does a person manage to hide in a small town like Serendipity, Wisconsin?”

  Anger burned in Melisa’s throat and then spilled out. “I didn’t run away. I needed to get away. There’s a difference.”

  Heat lowered himself to the foot of the hospital bed, resting with his backside touching Melisa’s toe. Maybe she imagined it, but she could swear that she felt the warmth of his skin radiating through the sheets.

  She drew her legs up and hugged her knees to her, and away from him. Having him so close made her uncomfortable. Heat seemed unperturbed.

  “I don’t blame you.” His features hardened. “I’ve known Scott for most of my life. He was like a brother to me. When he died I also wanted to leave, go somewhere that didn’t remind me of him.”

  “Why didn’t you?” Melisa’s anger abated, now that he’d lowered himself to her level of feelings.

  “I did. I spent a few weeks in Boston with relatives. Then I returned to my life, because no matter where you go, you can’t escape memories. Your heart carries them everywhere.”

  Melisa rested her chin on her knees. He was right. Memories were determined little creatures. “I guess.” She was quiet for a long time. Eventually she realized Heat was studying her face intently, as if peeling away her layers. “What?” she asked, frowning.

  He shook his head and his wavy hair swept the collar of his shirt. “After all these years, you haven’t changed a bit.”

  Maybe not outwardly. Inside she was a mess. “Neither have you.”

  “Can I ask you a question?”

  “Sure.”

  “How did you end up in a homeless shelter? What happened to the house?”

  With her good arm, Melisa reached for a glass of water on the bedside table but grimaced. Each movement was agony. Even though only one arm was burned, her back also hurt, as if she had been dragged naked along the street.

  “Let me.” Heat rushed to her side, enveloping her with his smell. His cologne—the same one he’d used for years—had a hint of citrus. He handed her the cool glass and their fingers brushed.

  That single touch sent her crashing back into the past. The time she had been crazy about him until he broke her heart. The time before Scott walked into her life. Did he ever think of back then? Did he think about her? Did she want him to?

  “So, you haven’t answered my question,” he said.

  Seriously? Wasn’t tonight tormenting enough for her? Did he really have to rub salt into raw wounds? “I sold the house,” she replied curtly, hoping he wouldn’t pursue the issue further.

  “I see.” He rubbed his stubble. “But I don’t understand. Why didn’t you get yourself a smaller place instead of moving into Oasis?”

  Melisa had always known Heat to be clean-shaven, but his stubble now made him even more attractive.

  She couldn’t tell him she’d gambled and drank away all the money she’d received from selling the house. What would he think of her? And why did she give a damn, anyway? But as much as it frustrated her, she did. “It’s a long story. I’ll tell you another time.” She feigned a yawn. Hopefully he’d get the message.

  “I understand.” He patted her leg. “But please don’t move back there. Come and stay with me until you get back on your feet. I’m your friend. Allow me to help you.”

  “I don’t know.” She wasn’t sure how she could ever return to her old life. A normal life without Scott was unthinkable. A life with Heat in it was bound to shatter her heart all over again.

  “You have to heal,” Heat said, as if reading her mind. “And you can only do that by accepting what happened and moving on.”

  Melisa shut her eyes for a long time. When she opened them again, she had made a decision. “Okay. I’ll come and stay with you, but only for a few days.”

  “You can stay with me for as long as you like.”

  Chapter Three

  Being inside Heat’s townhouse was like turning back the clock for Melisa. Everything was in the place she remembered from the few times she and Scott had visited. It smelled the same too—of his cologne mixed with clean, fresh air.

  Although she’d always done her best to get out of visits to Heat’s place, Heat had been Scott’s best friend, and she hadn’t wanted Scott to be suspicious. Scott had known nothing about her past with Heat, and as time went on, she didn’t think it was necessary to tell him. She didn’t want to rock the boat. And Heat probably hadn’t wanted to hurt his friend.

  Heat’s house was in impeccable condition, clean and tidy. Glossy sports magazines were stacked on top of each other on the gleaming glass coffee table, the cushions on the couch were plump and unwrinkled, and there wasn’t a speck of dust in sight. Everything perfect, the way she herself liked things to be. In Melisa’s case, making sure everything was clean on the outside helped her cope with the cobwebs on the inside.

  Heat ushered her to the couch and eased her down. He was so close, his intoxicating cologne enveloped her.

  Melisa pursed her lips at the flutter inside her heart. Why was she reacting to him this way after so many years?

  “Are you comfortable?” He lifted her feet onto the couch.

  “Perfect. Thanks.”

  “You should stop thanking me every five minutes. I’m happy to do this for you. I can’t bel
ieve I’ve found you.”

  “Found me?” Melisa tipped her head to one side.

  Heat busied himself opening the blinds. “I used to wonder what had happened to you.”

  “Oh.” Melisa paused. “It was nice to see you again. But staying here… wouldn’t that inconvenience you? I’m sure you want your privacy.”

  “I don’t need privacy.”

  “Don’t you have a—”

  “Girlfriend? No. I did, but we broke up yesterday.”

  Melisa didn’t miss the fact that yesterday was the day of the fire. The day after he saw her again. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  “Don’t be. It wasn’t serious.”

  “Still breaking hearts, I see.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Come on, in school you always had women chasing after you. You never kept them long enough.”

  “I don’t need a long time to find out if a person is right for me.” He paused. “Can I make you something to eat? Or we can order in?”

  He was diverting the conversation. But so what if he was? What was it to her? She had no right to ask about his love life, anyway. She did feel relieved, though, that she wouldn’t be bumping into other women around the apartment. She’d just have to do everything she could to get out of his way before the next girlfriend arrived on the scene.

  “Anything will do. You choose.” Her instinct was to say no to having him spend money on her, but she had to rise above her pride and accept help. It wasn’t like she had any other choice.

  “Great. Actually, I’ll go and pick up something. How about I get your things from Oasis on my way back?”

  Sudden fear of the future formed a knot in her stomach. Before Melisa had been released from the hospital, Lynnette had visited her again and told her not to return to Oasis. Not as punishment, but because she felt the fire was a sign that Melisa should move on with her life. She’d insisted she was only doing this because she had come to care for Melisa very much and wanted her to be happy. When Lynette heard Heat’s offer, she had winked at Melisa and told her she could pick up her things anytime.

  But now Melisa felt conflicted. Heat picking up her things was so final. It meant that for the time being, she was at his mercy—unless, of course, she wanted to live on the streets.

  “Okay,” she said.

  ***

  When Heat returned home, they ate their pizza in silence, and then he washed up. She offered to help, but he told her to rest her injured arm.

  As she watched him rinse and dry the plates, Melisa’s mind wandered; how would it have been if her prayers of the past had somehow been answered and she’d gotten married to Heat? But she stopped that train of thought. Fantasizing about what could have been would make it impossible to live with him.

  “Melisa,” Heat said when he was done with the dishes. He walked back to the table. “I’m your friend. Tell me what happened.”

  Melisa sighed. “What do you want to know?”

  “I want to know why you moved into a homeless shelter.”

  Maybe she did owe him some truth. Yes, she worried what he might think of her when he found out she was an alcoholic, but even if she didn’t tell him, he might figure it out at some point. The urges for drink were weaker and far between, but she wanted to attend AA meetings at an address Lynette had given her. “Can we sit?” she asked, and he nodded.

  They sat facing each other at the kitchen table. What a perfect view, Melisa thought as she studied Heat’s chiseled features and gazed into the deep pools of his bedroom eyes. Warmth immediately spread between her legs, and she tore her gaze away and looked down at the wooden table.

  She told him everything that had happened after Scott died—the shock, her denial, the realization that he was gone forever, her meltdown, how she turned to alcohol and gambling to make it all go away, and how she lost everything she’d had left because of her addictions.

  When she was done, she closed her eyes and rested her head on her good arm.

  “Look at me,” Heat said. “Melisa, look at me.”

  She did, and what she saw in his eyes was not criticism or disappointment or any of the judgment she feared. She saw sympathy and understanding, and something else she couldn’t quite understand, something warm and comforting.

  He placed a hand on both of hers. “You have nothing to be ashamed of. You went through hell, but everything will be fine now. I promise you that.”

  “Can we not talk about this again?”

  “As long as you’re seeking help, we never have to talk about it again.”

  “Thank you.” She removed her hands from under his.

  They had shared a moment. Grief and pain drew people together, but for the rest of her time in his home, she would keep her distance. It would be the best thing for both of them.

  ***

  The first night under Heat’s roof, Melisa found it hard to fall asleep. He’d given her the master bedroom, because it was spacious and had its own bathroom. The guestroom in which he slept was across the hall from hers. He was supposed to be at the fire station tonight, but he’d taken the night off.

  She didn’t want to think about him, but her mind kept conjuring images of him changing for bed. Did he sleep in pajamas? Boxers and a T-shirt? Fully naked?

  Stop, Melisa whispered to herself as her cheeks burned. She buried her head in the pillow and groaned, but her mind refused to let go. She imagined him lying on the bed she was on, on the pillow her face was buried in, under the sheets that covered her body.

  Her pulse leapt with excitement. Now she was officially horny for him against her will. One thing might help. She couldn’t jump into the shower because of her arm, so she walked into his black-and-white bathroom and splashed her face with cold water.

  When she climbed into bed again, her mind was clear of Heat. Instead, she thought about her future. What would become of her? Where would she go from here? Could she really start again?

  Chapter Four

  An explosion of blinding light flashed behind Melisa’s eyelids and searing pain shot through her right arm. As she covered it with her other hand, the stench of burning hair and flesh plugged her nostrils. Fear gripped her, and she thrashed and screamed until someone grabbed her hands.

  “It’s just a dream,” the man said in a low, soothing voice, and Melisa’s eyes flew open, her heart thudding against her chest. It was still dark in the room, but Heat’s silhouette was visible by the moonlight filtering through the window.

  He brushed the damp hair from her face. “You’re safe now.”

  Melisa tried to stop herself from trembling. “Sorry I woke you.”

  He placed an arm around her. “You went through something traumatic. It will take a while for you to come to terms with it all.”

  “Yeah.” Melisa moved away from his touch and dragged the bedsheet up to her chin. “Why aren’t you at work?”

  On a normal day, Heat worked a twenty-four-hour shift, which started at 7:00 a.m. and ended the next morning.

  “I finished early so I could come and check on you.”

  “But that’s the second time this week. You can’t put your job on the line for me.” He’d come home as early as 11:00 p.m. twice this week. She owed him enough as it was. For the past few weeks, he’d been so caring that sometimes she almost forgot he once broke her heart.

  “You know I don’t mind. Besides, I did a lot of overtime in the past few months. I deserve some time off. “

  “You could do other things. Go out with friends. That would be more fun than dealing with my nightmares.”

  “I’d rather be here.” He paused, his breathing labored. She knew what he would ask before he uttered the words, and ice formed in her stomach.

  “Have you ever thought about us? You know, after…”

  “No,” she lied, and pulled the sheets tighter around her.

  Chapter Five

  Melisa was standing in the kitchen preparing breakfast when the lock clicked in th
e front door.

  She kept her hand on the knife as the sounds Heat made when he arrived home every morning carried through the house—the jingle of keys as he placed them on the small table next to the door. The rustle of paper as he leafed through the mail, opened important letters, and placed the rest next to the keys. Then the ping as he switched on the TV to a news channel. He never really watched it, but kept it on as he did other things around the house. Perhaps having noise in the background made the place feel less quiet when he’d lived alone.

  Melisa had been living in his house for too long if she knew his routines. A month under his roof. It was time to move on. Her burns had healed and the fear of returning to her old life was still there, but no longer crippled her.

  She’d just sliced the onion in half when his footsteps headed for the kitchen.

  “Hi,” he said, standing in the doorway. He wore jeans and a crisp white shirt and his hair was damp. He sometimes showered at work after a day of trainings or rescue missions.

  Melisa’s pulse skittered as memories transported her back to the past. When she’d bumped into him after his football practice, his hair had always been damp; the water turned the dark caramel tone to rich honey. She used to imagine him showering after sweating on the field. The sight of him—slanted smile, broad shoulders, faint scar on his jaw—had always sent her blood boiling. He had been extremely popular. He was the guy all the girls wanted, and he dated a lot of them. Except her. Until one night at a high school dance.

  His girlfriend at the time had walked out on him, and Melisa had been there. After waiting so long for him to notice her, she did more than comfort him. She offered him one night, which was better than she could ever have hoped for. It had been magical. Thinking about their time together still turned her on. But that night had also turned her life inside out and changed her in ways she could not have imagined. Her heart ached. Her mother had pulled her out of the school soon after to get her away from him and sent her to finish high school in Madison, where her Aunt Sally, a teacher, homeschooled her.