Her Hometown Hero

by Melody Anne

  Being away from her just wasn’t an option anymore. The sooner she came to the same conclusion, the happier they both would be. Running his fingers through his hair in frustration, he paced his large living room. Though he was normally a smart man, he’d still pushed her, still expected a different reaction from the one he should have known he’d get.

  Maybe love really did make a person blind—make them do things that were out of character. Though he didn’t analyze everything like Sage did, he generally used his brain a bit more than he had been since meeting up with her again. She was probably wondering how he’d managed to get through medical school.

  He was wondering the same thing. When he realized he’d crossed his living room for the hundredth time, still with no answers, he decided enough was enough. With a determined step, he grabbed his coat and keys and walked out the front door.

  He was careful when he pulled out of his driveway and drove off—the neighborhood was full of playing children. But when he hit the main road, he picked up speed. He was on a mission, and the sooner he got to Sage’s place, the better.

  After pulling up at the apartment, he let out a deep breath and gazed up at her window. The string of lights circling it were inviting and warm, just like the woman he loved. Stepping from the truck, he moved slowly up the steps, his heart pounding and his hurry all but forgotten. It was ridiculous to be nervous. He knew she loved him. She was just frightened.

  He knocked on the door and tensed when he finally heard the sound of footsteps nearing and then the sound of the lock as it clicked open. Sage was now standing there, her eyes widening at the sight of him. Maybe he should have cleaned up first. That he hadn’t shaved for two days, or brushed his hair this morning, and probably looked slightly crazy—he’d gotten a ridiculously little amount of sleep—wouldn’t inspire confidence.

  “Good morning,” he said, thinking maybe he should have stopped for doughnuts. She loved the cream-filled ones with glaze on top. Maybe he should turn around and go back for some. Maybe not. She wasn’t likely to open the door again if he just left without saying anything else.

  It took her several seconds to respond, and all she could manage was, “Um, hi.”

  “Are you going to invite me in?” Boldness seemed to work best. Before she could say yes or no, he pushed forward, giving her two choices: to get run over or step aside. She moved, her hand still on the doorknob as he made his way inside.

  “What are you doing here, Spence? Studying for a future in door-to-door sales?” she asked as she finally shut the front door and wrapped her pink robe more tightly around her.

  “I wanted to see you. I missed you.” He led her to the kitchen.

  After another pause, she reached a height of eloquence, at least to judge by what they’d been saying to each other this morning. “Would you like a cup of coffee?”

  “Would love some.” That would give him at least fifteen minutes with her.

  “You look tired. Did you have a hard case in Seattle?” She sounded more like herself as she poured their coffee and sat down with him at the table.

  “Yes, father of three, only forty-two. Had a massive heart attack and needed an immediate bypass. I think he’ll make it, but he needs to either quit his job or hire some help. He’s obviously dealing with too much stress.”

  “It’s just too bad when it takes a major surgery for someone to slow down,” she said with a shake of her head.

  “Yeah, I see it all the time.” It was almost strange how polite they were being to each other, how they were both skating around what they really wanted to say. He’d pushed for her to be his wife—she’d said she needed time. Wasn’t four days plenty of time?

  “You know you need to stop sending gifts, right? I love them, each one, but it’s too much, Spence. You weren’t even here, but you somehow managed to have another one delivered,” she said.

  “You didn’t like the last one?”

  “I loved it. That’s not the point. You don’t have to buy me. In fact, you can’t.”

  “That was never my intention. Like I told you before, I enjoy getting you things. I enjoy the sparkle in your eyes when you talk about it. I don’t think you’ve been nearly spoiled enough and I plan on doing it for a very long time—the rest of my life, actually.”

  There. He’d said it. She could either step up and face this with him, or run and hide. He was through hiding. He’d done it most of his life, always protecting his heart, worried about being rejected, abandoned. Well, that wouldn’t happen with her.

  “It’s almost Christmas, Spence. I . . . I still don’t know what I think about all this. I want to be with you—I do. But, I just need time. I need for everything not to move so quickly.”

  He didn’t know what to do. Should he let her retreat, build up walls that were unnecessary? Or should he push her, make her accept what they both knew to be true?

  “We just need to be logical, to think about this,” she continued. “We don’t want to rush into anything, and we certainly don’t want our family members to be the ones pulling the strings. I’m not a puppet.”

  “I have never thought you were a follower, Sage. Far from it,” he said, temper creeping into his voice.

  Yes, he was angry—thoroughly pissed off, in fact. He’d been walking on eggshells in fear of offending her. But was she giving him the same consideration? Did she care that he’d laid his heart out there for her? No. Did that mean he was giving up? No. But it would certainly feel good to shout.

  “Love isn’t logical, Sage. It isn’t something you can put in a box, take out when you want to play with it, and then put it back away when it frightens you. It’s imperfect, comes with fits of emotions, and makes your insides flip out. There’s no reason to it, and if it doesn’t scare the hell out of you, you aren’t feeling it strongly enough. Love is scary because when we love someone, we fear losing them. But without love, what’s the purpose of life? If we give ourselves over to love, we win—we always will win.”

  “That doesn’t make sense,” she snapped, shooting up from the table. “Why would anyone want to feel an emotion that turns them inside out? I’m not afraid. I just like to make smart choices. That doesn’t make me a bad guy.”

  “It’s not supposed to make sense!”

  “Do you think bullying me will make me tell you what you want to hear?”

  In less than a heartbeat, he moved to her, trapping her against the counter, pressing his body close. Without a word, he bent down, captured her lips, and drank in her flavor, groaning into her mouth when she opened for him, when her hands came up and gripped his hair.

  Pulling back, he looked deep in her eyes. “Now tell me to go away. Tell me you don’t love me, never want to see me again,” he said before kissing her again.

  “I . . . I . . . I can’t concentrate . . . can’t think,” she cried, her fingers gripping him tight.

  He lifted her onto the counter and pulled her against him. Her robe had parted, allowing her to feel how much she stirred him. With his fingers in her hair, he kissed her again before drawing back.

  “You don’t need to think. You just need to feel. What do you feel, Sage? What do you want?”

  It took all his restraint to keep from undoing his jeans and plunging inside her. He could take her right now, light her on fire. But he didn’t want just her body—he wanted her heart.

  She breathed heavily as he pressed against her, but her lips stayed sealed. “I don’t understand how you can do nothing but look at me. I’m trying to give you everything,” he said, frustration pushing him to act almost irrationally. When she still said nothing, he lost what little cool he had left.

  “This was a mistake,” he told her. “I shouldn’t have come over.” He turned, upset with himself for caving in to his urges. He shouldn’t have kissed her. He already knew they had no trouble in the sex department. He’d proven nothing by doing it.

  “I’m just confused, Spence. I’m so confused,” she cried out as he reached the door, m
aking him turn. He said nothing as he waited for her to continue.

  “I don’t like this. I don’t like to feel out of control. I don’t like not knowing what will happen next. I’ve never felt this way before. It’s not me. It’s not pleasant. I . . . please understand.”

  Love shone in her eyes, but fear was its companion. She wasn’t afraid of him—it was herself she feared.

  “Then I’ll give you time.” But maybe it wouldn’t work out after all. Maybe she wouldn’t be able to love him as much as he loved her. The very thought sent sharp pains through him, body and soul. He left the apartment not knowing what the future would hold.

  He was at the bottom of the stairs when her door opened and he heard his name. He looked up to see Sage standing there.

  “I love you, Spence, but . . . but it’s just not enough.”

  The door shut, the click of the lock echoing down the stairs.

  Spence bounded to the top of the stairs before he halted in his tracks. Even if he pounded on the door, woke all the neighbors, and demanded she come out, he knew she wouldn’t open it again. But she’d called after him. She hadn’t let him just leave.

  She’d given him . . . hope. She loved him. Joy coursed through him at the realization. Yes, it was enough; yes, she would be his. His plans were back on, and he had no doubt that the future Mrs. Whitman was going to be his forever. Running a hand over the stubble on his jaw, he laughed aloud as he descended the stairs and got into his truck.

  Ravenously hungry for the first time since their fight a few days ago, he headed to the local diner. A hearty breakfast followed by some phone calls and everything would be back to normal. Picking up his phone, he pressed in the familiar numbers.

  “Dad, I need your help.”

  “You said what to him?”

  Her grandmother was staring at her as if she’d grown three heads and was spitting fire. Sage felt ashamed and didn’t understand why. It wasn’t her grandmother who had the right to be upset; it was her.

  “You were meddling in my life in a way that really wasn’t okay, Grandma. I’m all confused now, and I don’t know what is happening. I did what I had to do.” Sage clutched her cup of hot chocolate so hard she was surprised the cup didn’t shatter. It would almost be a good thing if that were to happen. At least then her hand would hurt instead of her heart.

  “He’s perfect for you. And he wants to marry you. Instead of running away, you should embrace him, give him your heart.”

  “I won’t even bother to discuss what you did to my career—and, perhaps, to his. The point here is that it’s my heart to give or keep, Grandma. It’s not right for people to interfere,” she said more sternly than she’d ever spoken to her grandma before. When Bethel winced, Sage felt about two inches tall. “I’m sorry,” she said. This had been a bad idea.

  Bethel sniffled. “I just want you to be happy.”

  “I know. I’m sorry,” Sage repeated.

  “What is wrong with him? Did he hurt you? Was he rude? Should I have his father take him out to the woodshed? A boy is never too old for that.”

  “No, Grandma,” Sage gasped in horror. “He’s been a perfect gentleman. And the Whitmans don’t even own a woodshed.”

  “Well, then, what’s the problem? If he loves you and you love him, why be confused?” she asked, her eyes gleaming, making Sage suspect her shattered look had been nothing but an act.

  If Sage had been sure about that, she might have called her grandma out. But if the woman was truly upset, Sage didn’t want to make it worse.

  “I know it was hard for you when you lost your parents,” Bethel said. “It was hard for me, too, darling. I raised your father, loved him more than anyone in this world. You know I wasn’t blessed with another child. And then, when he married your mother, I got a daughter. Losing them tore me apart. The only reason I kept on standing was because I had you to look after. Situations in life happen for a reason—I’m sure of that. Being afraid doesn’t help. Don’t be so fearful that you miss out on something great.” Bethel placed her warm hand gently over Sage’s clenched fingers, giving the young woman no choice but to unclench them.

  “I just don’t like being pushed. I don’t like someone else deciding my fate. I’m an adult now, and maybe I’m just not ready to get married—to commit myself to one person for the rest of my life.” Sage needed her grandma to understand it was her decision, and hers alone.

  “Oh, bah humbug. That’s a bunch of fancy words. What does it matter how the two of you met? What matters is how you feel about him.”

  “Grandma!”

  “Don’t you grandma me. I’ve been around a lot more years than you have. Sometimes you just have to accept that Grandma knows best.” Bethel rose from the table and poured more coffee before reaching into the cupboard, grabbing her secret bottle of Jack, and adding a dollop to her cup.

  “Who are you?” Sage gasped.

  “I’m the woman who raised you and deserves respect,” Bethel replied before taking a sip of her spiked coffee and sighing. “I don’t have a drink too often, but dealing with a grown woman who’s acting like a child requires some extra strength.”

  Sage sat there with her mouth open. She’d never seen her grandma behave so . . . so . . . well, so human.

  “I’m . . .” Sage didn’t know what she was or how she should finish that sentence.

  “You’re acting like a fool. That boy has romanced you, spoiled you, declared his love for you. Now, if you tell me that you can’t stand the sight of him, that he makes your skin crawl and you’d rather live in the swamps than be in his presence, I’ll understand and support you. But if you’re telling me that you love him and are too scared to be with him, I’ll have to get out my broom and smack you on the behind.”

  “Yes, I love him, I just . . . oh, I don’t know.” She realized she wasn’t making the least bit of sense. Why did she have to overanalyze this?

  “Well, in my time, if you loved someone, you just did. There wasn’t all this game playing. There wasn’t a competition to see who told who their feelings first. It was simple. Boy meets girl, girl likes boy, boy proposes, and then everyone lives happily ever after.”

  It didn’t get any more black-and-white than that.

  “And no one from your generation ever woke up one morning and realized they’d made a huge mistake?”

  “Well of course they did. Love isn’t perfect. It doesn’t come with a guidebook—though you can get a book on just about anything these days—and it doesn’t come with guarantees. But if two people love each other, they work through those hardships. They don’t dwell on a problem, they face it head-on, together. They decide the person they love is worth the fight.”

  “I’m a pain. I know I am. I do things sometimes that drive even me crazy. How long would it be before he just gives up, before he decides I’m not worth the hassle anymore?” Sage asked, her throat clogging up.

  “Oh, baby. You aren’t a pain. I know this—I’ve been with you since the day you were born. You are an intelligent, spirited, beautiful woman any man would be proud to have,” Bethel scooted her chair next to Sage’s and drew her into her arms.

  “You have to say that because you’re my grandma,” Sage said with a hiccup. “But why is this so hard? Why hasn’t anyone else wanted to be with me?”

  “Because you are brave and strong. Sadly, there are many men out there who feel better about themselves when they get to be the big, strong protector. I’m not saying there’s anything wrong with a man protecting his castle, but there’s also nothing wrong with a woman defending her home. Has Spence ever asked you to be anything other than who you are?”

  Sage paused as she thought over the last several months with Spence. He’d challenged her, forced her from her comfort zone, and given her more than any other person ever had, but had he asked her to change? Had he asked her to be something she wasn’t?

  “He asked me to marry him after he asked me to move in with him and I freaked out.”


  “Baby girl, that’s not asking you to change. That’s asking you to merge your life with his.”

  “I don’t know . . .” Sage was wavering, and that wasn’t the way this conversation was supposed to go. She was supposed to have a talk with her grandmother, make sure the woman knew never to interfere in her life again, and then get this miserable Christmas over with. She wasn’t supposed to be having a soul-shattering moment.

  “Do you love him, Sage?”

  “Why do you keep asking that?”

  “Because that’s all that really matters in the end. It comes down to whether you love him. If you do, the rest will work itself out.”

  “Love isn’t the point, Grandma.”

  “Love is always the point, darling.”

  “I don’t need a man to be whole.”

  “You are quite right. You don’t need anyone to make you whole. But take this from me—it’s mighty lonely at night to be whole by yourself.”

  “I’m sorry that you gave up a chance to find another man because you were raising me, Grandma.” Sage had never thought before of the sacrifices her grandmother had made so that she could grow up feeling loved.

  “I didn’t give up on love because I had you. I lost my husband and I grieved him for many years. Then when my sorrow grew a little less, I just wasn’t interested in finding love again. The love your grandfather and I had was beautiful and kind. If I truly thought I could have that again, I wouldn’t hesitate and he wouldn’t want me to. The truth of it is that I just never felt that way about another man.” The blush on her cheeks led Sage to believe there may be someone now.

  “Would you marry again if you did feel that way?”

  “In an instant.”

  “Then maybe I should do some matchmaking of my own—a little payback,”

  “If you can play Cupid, bring it on, sweetheart. But enough about me. Why don’t you quit worrying about emotion and tell me about Spence.”

  “You already know him, Grandma, probably better than I do.”

  “Let’s just pretend I’ve lost my memory. I want to hear what you think about him, who you think he is.”