by Harper James
“Got it. Don’t come outside. I’ll call you when it’s time to open the door.”
Then he hangs up.
“Is he coming?” my mom asks hopefully.
I frown at my phone. “Uh…yeah. He is.” Did he say “we’re on our way”? Because surely he’s not about to drop in with a SEAL team or anything, right? No. No, of course now. But then…who else is coming with him on this clearly pointless investigation into an old lady’s garden shed?
My question is answered when a few moments later, Heath’s SUV rolls up to the front of the house. He isn’t loud about it; in fact, I almost think he’s let the car drive the remaining distance in neutral just to avoid the engine noise. He jumps out of the front side, wearing a dress shirt and jeans. From the back door, Jack emerges, then a pretty young woman who has her hair pinned back and a hard look in her eyes— she’s clearly in the military as well, though I’ve never met her. Finally, Leo, Jack’s artsy friend, stumbles around the side of the car. He looks so out of place with the other three that I nearly laugh.
“Oh, wow. They look like movie assassins,” my mom says almost excitedly as she looks out the crack in the blinds.
“They really do. Right down to the comic relief,” I say, shaking my head at poor Leo.
If Heath sees us looking— which given the hawkish glaze to his eyes, I can’t imagine there’s anything he doesn’t see right now— he doesn’t show it. He and Jack cut to the right, while the woman and Leo cut to the left. They circle round the house, sticking close to the walls. It’s only when Heath steps out and the security lights blink on that I realize they were by the house in order to keep those motion sensors from picking them up.
My mother and I dash to the kitchen, for once on the exact same page about what’s going on outside her house. Heath is walking toward the shed’s open door while the others fan out across the yard. While I don’t see any weapons, the three from the military walk with a careful gait that makes me certain they’ve crept along like this with a gun bigger than my arm at some point in their lives.
Heath circles the shed, and then closes the door. Then he doubles back and looks at something behind the shed again. Finally, they all walk toward the house together, much more casually this time. They’ve finished.
Except Heath doesn’t call me. He doesn’t knock on the door, and my mom and I don’t see him or any of the others come back around the front of the house.
“Where’d they go?” my mom asks, confused.
“I…have no idea. Maybe they’re in the crawlspace? He asked about it,” I saw, frowning.
“We’d hear that door opening, wouldn’t we? There’s an alarm on it—“
The lights in the back yard click back on and I gasp— Heath is coming around the front of the shed. I don’t even know how he got back there without setting of the sensors. I’m less concerned about that, though, and more concerned about the man that he’s tugging along in a headlock.
Chapter 15
Oh my god!” my mom and I say in unison— though my tone is impressed while hers is horrified. She grabs hold of the countertop to keep from fainting; I wrap an arm around her.
“It’s fine, Mom! Whoever he is, Heath’s got him. He freaking got him,” I say, shaking my head in wonder. Is this really happening? Did Heath just Navy SEAL the heck out of my mom’s backyard?
I nearly charge for the door, but remember what Heath told me— to wait till he calls. We watch as the others gather around Heath and the stranger. Leo looks like he’s on legs every bit as wobbly as my mom’s, and I can’t help but feel sorry for the guy.
He’s young, I realize— with scrawny arms and legs and a t-shirt for some band I’ve never heard of. His hair is too-long and tangly, and when he twists around, I see dark brown eyes full of genuine, wild fear.
“That’s little Simon Pettier! From down the street!” my mom says.
“Little? How old is he?”
“I guess…well, about seventeen or so, I suppose. Oh, Simon— you don’t suppose he’s fallen in with your father, has he? How would they even have met?”
I sigh in relief. “I don’t think this has anything to do with Dad.”
Heath calls a few moments later, voice still serious, no inkling of intimacy in it— all business.
“Come on out here and take a look,” he says.
“Can you bring him to the door? My mom won’t go out,” I say.
My mom nearly jumps on me. “No! I can go out right now— I mean, I’ll practically be surrounded by that crew,” she says, motioning to Heath and his friends. “I’m sure it’s perfectly safe.”
My eyes widen, and I truly realize just how long it’s probably been since my mother has stepped outside. I nod at her, and then hang up the phone. We walk to the back door, and my mother only has a moment’s hesitation before stepping onto the back step, then down into the yard.
“Simon!” she barks, and the kid— god, I’d believe he was fifteen if that’s what mom had said— spins around, looking horrified.
“Mrs. Ackerman, look, I’m so sorry. I didn’t think it’d bother you, you never use the yard and I just— don’t tell my parents, okay? I’m so sorry.”
“What’s actually going on here?” I ask, looking from Heath’s chiseled jaw to Simon’s acne-lined one.
“He’s been growing a few pot plants behind the shed,” Heath explains.
“The soil there is incredible, and I didn’t want to grow it on my parent’s property. It’s just a few, they’re nothing serious. I thought you’d never know,” Simon protests. The kid looks moments from tears.
“Behind the shed?” I ask, confused.
“That’s where the compost pile used to be. I bet the soil there is phenomenal,” my mom admits.
“It is! Seriously, the growth rate has been—“
“Not the point, dude,” Leo says under his breath.
“I’m really sorry,” Simon says instead of waxing poetic on the growth rate.
“Did you take the lock off the shed?” my mom asks, folding her arms. She hasn’t looked this mom-like since I was in middle school and she was grounding me for a B on my report card.
Simon nods glumly. “I needed some clippers and my bike key fit the lock.”
“Those store padlocks aren’t especially secure,” Jack jumps in, then jerks his head toward Simon. “And kid? Your plants needed more light anyway. Move to Denver if you’ve got to light up.”
“Or California,” Simon says sadly.
“Want us to call the cops? Or his parents?” Heath asks, seemingly uninterested in Simon and Jack’s mutual appreciation for weed.
My mother tilts her head to the side, studying Simon for a moment. Simon quivers. He looks like a baby horse, all long limbs and big eyes and total uncertainty about the ground beneath him.
Mom sighs. “It’s fine. I want the plants gone, Simon, you understand me? I won’t tolerate that on my property. What if the police had thought they were mine?”
“The police stopped coming over months ago,” Simon says, and I grimace— that’d been my doing.
“And how about, as penance, he helps out with the yard for the rest of the month?” my mom suggests.
“Yes! I can do that!” Simon says, sounding almost ecstatic at the idea of getting off so easily.
“Help with what?” I ask.
“Well, I haven’t planted a winter garden in age. Since Simon here has such a green thumb, he can do it for me,” my mom said pointedly.
“I can totally do that. Happy to,” Simon says.
“Sounds good,” Heath says, and then releases Simon’s collar so abruptly that the kid nearly falls down. “But,” Heath adds, stepping closer to him. “If I hear of any problems, we’ll have to talk again. Clear?”
“Yes sir, very clear,” Simon stammers. “Am I— uh…am I free to go?”
“Get out of here,” Heath says, and Simon leaps away faster than a frightened bunny.
“But come back tomorrow afternoon!�
�� my mom calls after him, and we hear him holler some word of confirmation in response.
We all make our way to the back door, where Heath meets my eyes. His gaze remains professional as he tells me he needs to take Jack and the others back to the bar.
“Okay. Thanks for coming by,” I say. “Heath, I—“
“I’ll be back after I drop them,” Heath says.
“Oh, I don’t…I mean, if you want to. I would…” I swallow. “I’d like that.”
“I’ll let you know if I feel I need to come inside. Tomorrow, maybe I should give the whole place a once over for security lapses,” he answers. Still professional. Still unfeeling.
“Yeah. Sure, that’d be great,” I say, and I know I sound just as crestfallen as I feel. Heath doesn’t react, though; he and the others merely pile back into the SUV and vanish.
“Are you sure he isn’t your boyfriend?” my mother asks, and this time she doesn’t sound pressing, but rather, hopeful.
“He’s not,” I answer. “I told you— he’s leaving in eleven days. There’s no time to get serious even if I wanted to.”
“If a boy leaves a bar with all his friends to check on your mother, I think we can say things are at least sort of serious,” my mother says doubtfully.
I’m about to brush this off when she takes a deep breath and releases it. “It was lovely outside, wasn’t it?”
“Yes. It’s a nice cold night,” I say, and turn to her, lips curling into a smile. “Want to go back out, now that we know the yard is clear?”
My mother glances at the back door, and I can practically see her mind waffling. In the end, she smiles, but shakes her head. “Maybe another time. I think I’ve had enough excitement tonight.”
“Fair,” I say, exhaling. In fact, I’ve had enough excitement for the last three nights— thanks to Heath. Maybe a few more episodes of house buying bullshit will be good for me.
“Come on, let’s go watch some more trashy TV. I want to rot my brain out,” I say, elbowing her, and my mom laughs— really laughs— for the first time in recent memory.
All thanks to Heath.
Well, Heath and a punk kid growing pot in a compost pile. But mostly thanks to Heath.
Chapter 16
My mom falls asleep on the couch around the time that the international version of the home buying show comes on, at which point I know more about the pitfalls of travertine tile than I’ve ever thought possible. It hasn’t been that long since Heath left, but I think she’s just worn out. She’s snoring by the time I see the lights from Heath’s SUV pull back up.
I look out the window and watch as he turns off the engine, tugs his coat right around his body, and sits back in the seat. He’s going to stay there all night, I realize— or at least for a long while, based on the way he’s settling in. I text him.
Karli: I’m sure it was just an isolated thing. We’re fine.
I see the front of the SUV glow as my message activates his phone screen. He types back, then relaxes back into his position; a beat goes by before his response comes through to me.
Heath: It’s fine. I figured I’d just stay for an hour and see how the neighborhood runs this time of night so I can give you a good security plan tomorrow.
Karli: You don’t have to do this.
Heath: Then why’d you call me?
I want to text back and tell him that his response is to an entirely different statement. I called him because I needed him to come out. That didn’t mean he had to. It doesn’t mean he has to sit out there right now, either.
I glance at my mom, whose mouth is parted in that blissful stage of deep sleep. I rise, slide on my shoes, and carefully tiptoe out the front door.
By the time I’ve closed the door behind me and spun around, Heath has spotted me— hell, he probably somehow knew the moment I stood up from the couch. I give him a half smile, awkward and stilted, then shiver from the cold and make my way to the SUV. He unlocks the doors, and I slide in on the passenger side.
“Hi,” I say.
“Hey,” he answered, and turns on the engine so the heater can take the edge off the temperature. He doesn’t say anything for a few moments, measured in the time it takes for me to no longer see my breath.
“Why’d you ask me to come?” he asks, the question a thousand times more difficult in person than it was over text.
I bite my lip, curl my arms tighter around myself. “I knew if we called the police, she’d slide even farther.”
“You could have called Jack. He’s Navy.”
“I guess,” I say. It hadn’t even occurred to me to call Jack, but I don’t want to say that aloud. “I knew you’d be good at…helping.”
“Right,” he says, and I can’t tell he knows this isn’t a complete answer.
I shrug in defeat. “I knew you’d make my mom feel safe. And I knew you’d make sure me and her actually were safe.”
Heath smiles a little. “From dastardly terrorist Simon the pothead.”
I laugh. “Yeah. I feel a little stupid for being scared now.”
“Nah. Being scared is what keeps you alive. And you and your mom have good reason to be scared, what with your dad and all.”
“Yeah. Parole hearing is in sixteen days. I keep thinking that when it’s over, when we know he’s locked up for another ten years, that we’ll be able to relax. You know that was the first time my mom’s gone outside in probably a year?”
Heath smiles a little, the expression melancholic. “I’m glad she went out.”
“You made her feel like she could,” I say, looking at my hands. “Thanks, Heath. Seriously. Thank you. I’m…” I take a long breath. “I’m sorry about before. I shouldn’t have run like that, but I was scared.”
“Of me?”
“Of not getting another chance to walk away. When I’m with you it’s like…god, it’s like having to pull apart two magnets the size of the empire state building.”
“I feel the same,” Heath says, and sounds just as dejected by this truth as I am. We sit in silence for a long while. “I get what you were saying, you know. Why things won’t work between us. I understand.”
“I’m not happy about it or anything, I just know I’m going to end up getting hurt if we try to keep seeing each other.”
“Probably,” Heath says, nodding. “I don’t want to be the one to hurt you.”
“Maybe when you get back, though? Maybe we can try then.”
“Maybe,” Heath says, then he’s silent for a long while. “You sound so sure.”
“That it’ll work sometime in the future?”
“That I’ll come back,” he says.
I go still, my stomach spinning, shoulders locked up. Heath is so confident about everything, so certain…how could he be unsure about his surviving a mission? The idea of someone like him dying is as impossible as the idea of someone like me becoming a supermodel.
“You don’t mean that,” I say quietly.
“What?”
“You don’t mean that. You don’t mean to say you might not come back.”
Heath looks almost offended for a beat. “I always mean that, Karli. I always know that I might not come back. That’s part of what I do. That’s what makes what I do important. I do it because I’m willing to take that risk. And I’m honored, if I die serving our country.”
“You act like that’s a goal,” I say, voice rising.
“Not at all. It’s just a reality. I said fear keeps you alive, remember? And that’s great— but I can’t let fear keep me alive at the expense of the greater good. I’m not that important.”
“You’re absolutely that important,” I say, shaking my head, horrified at his words. “Do you hear yourself?”
“Yes. Completely,” he says, and he’s so calm, so even that it makes my heart thumb just like hearing that noise outside did earlier. “My point, Karli, is that I never know exactly what I’m going in to, but I do know that I’ve got to make my peace with the possibility of not coming back
. That’s why I went for you fast and hard. I don’t want to waste eleven days, since that might be all we get.”
I sniffle, and realize there are tears in my eyes. I’m not sure if they’re fear or frustration based, but they’re here all the same. I wipe them away with the base of my hand. “I don’t think I can spend eleven days with you and not know if I’ll ever see you again. I know that makes me selfish—“
“Nah. It makes you realistic. SEALS aren’t exactly known for being realistic,” he says, and reaches across the seats to nudge me playfully, almost apologetically. I sniff again and we sit in silence for a few long breaths, the hum of the heat blowing the only noise other than my occasional sniffs.
“Do you know where you’re going?”
“Some. I can’t tell you anything, except that it’s in a dangerous area and it’s another terrorism-based mission,” he says.
“Can’t tell me anything because you don’t know, or can’t tell me anything because you aren’t allowed?”
“Both,” he says.
“Does your dad know?”
He gives a single barking laugh. “He knows there’s a mission. He’s jealous. He’s a loyal soldier, but he’s never climbed the ranks. It bugs him. Always has.”
“He’s proud of you though, surely,” I say.
Heath shrugs. “Yeah, I guess. He’d be prouder if I’d risen up in the army. The way he sees it, I went Navy then left him in the dust. Might as well have gone into portrait painting or something.”
“Hey. Portrait painters make good money,” I say, and it takes a second for Heath to realize I’m joking.
Heath glances back at the house. While he’s looking away, I scan his body almost involuntarily, thinking about how he looked earlier— the confidence, the certainty, the power. I think about how he looks undressed almost just as involuntarily, and I find himself biting my lips at the memory of how it felt when he licked my pussy last night. When he put me on my knees and fucked me. When he—