by Noelle Marie
“Okay,” he agreed, and a smile began inching its way up Emma’s face. “But…” and then it was swiftly wiped off again. “Maybe we could work at my… well, at the Potter’s house instead.”
The suggestion was as unexpected as it was welcome. Emma hadn’t been completely sure if Heath had known that she was aware of his home situation. Sure, she’d sort of assumed that he knew she knew that he was currently staying with the Potters as their foster kid, but they’d never outright talked about it. The fact that he was inviting her over to the Potter’s house – even if she had been over there many times in the past to babysit Charlie – seemed significant. She couldn't say why precisely, but it caused something she hadn’t even known had been tight in her chest to loosen.
“Yes!”
Silence.
Perhaps she’d been a tad too exuberant.
“I mean, that sounds great,” Emma amended, dragging a hand across her eyes in mortification.
What was wrong with her?
“The usual time?” Heath asked after a minute.
“Sure,” she agreed, but said nothing else in an effort to exert a little control over her mouth.
“Alright. I… I’ll see you then I guess.”
“Okay.” She paused. “Sleep well, Heath,” she offered timidly.
Emma almost thought Heath had hung up on her. But then… “You too, Emma,” he said in a tone gentler than she’d ever heard from him before. A moment later, the dial tone rang in her ear, and Emma, with a soft smile stretched across her face, reluctantly ended the call. And if she wore that smile around the rest of the night until she went to bed at ten, no one had to know.
Unfortunately, by morning time, Emma’s internal excitement had turned into something more closely resembling anxiety. Rationally, she knew she had no reason to be nervous. She’d been to the Potters’ home countless times before in order to watch Charlie. But it wasn’t the Potters who made her feel positively jittery with suppressed nerves. It was Heath.
Forcing herself to wait until noon to leave, she grabbed their completed poster board before bundling up in a heavy cream sweater and an oversized winter jacket to jog outside and start her truck. Shortly after, she was on her way to Heath’s. She reached the Potters’ two story colonial house, located on the very fringe of Maple Valley, in a matter of minutes. Taking just a minute to check the mirror and make sure that the haphazard braid she’d thrown her hair into was still successfully holding back her thick mane, she stepped out of her truck and hurried to the Potters’ front door.
Her knuckles hadn’t even had a chance to rap on the wooden door more than once before it was forcefully pulled open.
“Emma!” A pair of strong arms wrapped themselves around her waist, and an involuntary smile pulled at Emma’s lips as she took in her pint-sized welcomer.
“Charlie,” she greeted him warmly. “It’s good to see you too.”
She glanced past the little cherub to see Heath, arms crossed over his chest and looking a mix of amused and irritated. “Get off her, Charlie.”
Emma couldn't stop the surprised laughter from escaping when Charlie shot Heath a dark look over his shoulder. “Make me,” he said, sticking his tongue out at his foster brother.
Emma was watching Heath’s reaction closely enough that her brown eyes immediately zeroed in on the frustrated tick of his jaw. The tiny movement really shouldn’t have been as attractive as it was.
Before Heath could respond, however, Mrs. Potter breezed into the room. “For goodness sake, Charlie, listen to Heath and let Emma go,” she scolded. “She’s his guest today.” Was it Emma’s imagination or did the woman sound particularly pleased about that? “And let her inside,” Mrs. Potter added. “You’re freezing poor Emma, making her stand out in the cold like that.”
“Sorry,” Charlie apologized, looking contrite as he released her and scooted back far enough so that she was able to step into the house and shut the door behind her.
“It’s okay,” Emma assured him, right as Heath muttered, “You should be, you little goblin.”
Charlie shot Heath a particularly impressive pout. “You’re just jealous that I got to hug her,” he declared, more than a touch of arrogance in his voice.
“Charlie!” Heath scolded as flames licked up Emma’s face. He turned to her. “Sorry about him.”
Emma shrugged, pressing the back of her hands to her cheeks and willing her heated blush to vanish. “It’s okay. I’m pretty familiar with Charlie’s antics. I used to babysit him a lot.”
“Yeah, I’ve heard all about that,” Heath said, rolling his eyes. “You do realize that he has an enormous crush on you, right?”
Emma fought to contain her laughter when Charlie huffed from where he was still standing nearby. He regarded his foster brother with betrayed eyes.
“It’s cute,” she assured him, running a hand through the eight year old’s hair. Charlie practically preened.
Heath snorted, raising an eyebrow and looking unimpressed. “Maybe to you. You don’t have to listen to him go on and on about ‘Oh, Emma’s so smart!’ and ‘Isn’t Emma the prettiest girl you’ve ever seen?’”
Charlie stomped his foot on the ground. “You think she’s pretty too!” he accused. “You said so!”
So much for her blush going away anytime soon.
Heath looked embarrassed as well, a faint redness crawling up own his neck as he scowled at his foster brother. “Jesus, Charlie, can’t you go help your mom in the kitchen or something?”
Mrs. Potter must have heard him from where she’d disappeared into said kitchen because her voice soon traveled from the room to join Heath’s. “I’m making cookies!” she called. “Don’t you want a taste of the batter, Charlie?”
Charlie looked unsure, but the promise of Mrs. Potter’s baking must have been too much to resist because his tiny shoulders drooped in defeat. “Fine,” he muttered before sulking from the room.
Heath glanced at Emma uncertainly before picking up the poster board that she had dropped in surprise when Charlie had thrown himself at her. “Did you want to work in my room?” he asked.
“That sounds fine,” Emma assured him, hoping her voice didn’t come across as timid as she suddenly felt.
Heath led her up the flight of stairs located on the right side of the Potter’s living room. She followed him down the long upstairs hallway until they reached the second door on the left. He pulled the door open and ushered her inside, stepping in after her and shutting the door.
Apparently, Mrs. Potter didn’t enforce the same old-fashioned rules as her dad.
Emma took her time to look around Heath’s room. It was… nice.
The room was spacious, much larger than Emma’s own bedroom. The walls were covered in pale paint, the floor in beige carpet. Pushed up against the back wall in the middle of the room was a large bed over which lay a dark blue comforter. A flat screen TV was mounted on the wall across from it. The only other pieces of furniture in the room were an oak dresser and nightstand, neither of which displayed any pictures. In fact, there were no personal effects lying out anywhere. The room, as nice as it was with the big TV and connected private bathroom, left Emma feeling strangely disappointed.
Because the room told her absolutely nothing about Heath himself.
“So… what do you think?” Heath asked from behind her, bringing Emma back to the present.
She turned to face him and felt herself soften as she took in his expectant, almost nervous expression. “It’s really nice,” she assured him. And it was. Emma had just been looking forward to learning more about Heath was all. And his bedroom provided no clues whatsoever.
Heath nodded, running one of his hands through his messy hair. “Mrs. Potter said I should have invited you over sooner.”
Oh.
Stupid, illogical hurt welled within her. “I see.” She sat down on his mattress.
Heath frowned, his eyes darting to hers. He sighed in frustration, obviously sensing th
e abrupt change in her mood. And the reason for it. “No, I mean… I wanted to invite you,” he said. “It’s just that I… I mean… I’ve never asked anyone to come over to anywhere I’ve lived before. I guess I haven’t wanted to… until now,” he finished quietly.
Feeling equal parts foolish and elated, Emma didn’t even care that her face was probably as painfully red as a tomato. She was just so pleased that Heath was finally sharing something about himself. It didn’t look like she’d be going home empty handed in her quest to learn more about him after all.
“Well, I’m glad you did,” she offered shyly.
Heath smiled, the genuine show of happiness making her heart swell. “Me too.” He sat down beside her.
Emma bit her bottom lip, chewing on the abused flesh as she debated whether or not she dared to ask Heath anything more. Figuring that the worst he could do was shut her down if she did, Emma took a chance. “Have you lived many places before here?” she asked cautiously, prepared to withdraw the question if Heath so much as frowned.
But he didn’t seem upset by her curiosity. “A few,” he answered.
Emma took a deep breath.
In for a penny, in for a pound.
“Like?” she prodded.
Heath shrugged. “Most of the families I’ve stayed with have been from the suburbs. A few smaller towns, too, though this is by far the… quaintest one I’ve lived in. It’s nowhere near as large as Minneapolis, anyway, where I’m originally from.”
Emma tried not to think about how many new families, how many new schools that meant for Heath. About how many years it implied he’d been in the system. “Minneapolis? Wow, I bet it’s a lot different from here,” she offered neutrally instead.
Heath smirked. “You have no idea.”
“So tell me then.”
Heath searched her eyes, debating, it seemed, whether Emma was truly interested in what he had to say or was just humoring him.
But how could anyone not be interested in this boy?
He must have found what he was looking for because he licked his lips and started talking. “People there don’t give a rat’s ass about you,” he said bluntly. “Not a single person will look at you twice. It makes it easy to blend in, become a shadow. I didn’t mind it, actually. I don’t like people looking.”
A concerned frown tugged at the corners of Emma’s mouth. What did Heath mean that he didn’t like people looking? She enjoyed her privacy as much as the next person, but to be made to feel invisible? That didn’t sound like much fun at all.
“You must not like it here very much then. In Maple Valley, I mean,” Emma said. “Everyone seems to have their nose in everyone else’s business.”
Heath hummed at her observation. “It’s not so bad.”
Emma smiled. “Yeah?”
“It’s my favorite of all the places I’ve been, I think,” he confirmed.
“Really? Why? It can’t be the scenery.” The snow that had begun piling up the past week had its own beauty, of course, but it wore thin after the white stuff decided to stick around month after month without fail every year.
Heath stared at her like she was some complex puzzle he couldn't quite figure out. “You really don’t know,” he said after a moment, disbelief saturating his voice.
Emma frowned. “Know what?”
Heath’s eyes bore into hers, imploring Emma to figure it out. She stared back in confusion until his baby blues flickered from her brown orbs to her pink lips.
And just like that, Emma knew.
She was the reason that he liked it here.
Trying to ignore the way that her heart was suddenly threatening to beat out of her chest, Emma continued to look into Heath’s eyes as he inched closer. She wondered vaguely if her pupils were as blown wide as his were. She took in the regal line of his nose and the little scar near his left eyebrow that she’d never noticed before and wondered what his eyes were seeing as he inched closer still. The smattering of tiny freckles across the bridge of her nose? The thick eyelashes that surrounded her own, much duller, pair of eyes?
And then she wasn’t wondering anything at all. Because his lips were a hair’s breath away from connecting with hers. And then…
Knock. Knock. Knock.
“Heath! Emma!”
Emma jumped and jerked away from Heath at the sudden vigorous pounding on the bedroom door and the childish voice that accompanied it.
Jaw clutched tightly shut, Heath turned to glare at the door. “What do you want, Charlie?” he demanded angrily.
Charlie didn’t seem fazed. In fact, he opened the door and peeked inside the room. “The cookies are done! Mom says you guys should come down and get some while they’re still warm.” Evidence of said cookies were on Charlie’s face. Crumbs surrounded his mouth, and chocolate was smeared on his chin.
Heath sighed. “Are you hungry?” he asked, turning to face her.
“Of course she’s hungry!” Charlie answered in indignation before Emma could so much as open her mouth. “These are chocolate chip cookies we’re talking about! With M&Ms!”
Emma shrugged, shooting Heath a helpless look, before turning to face Charlie. “Cookies sound great.”
“Who could resist M&Ms?” Heath agreed sarcastically, but he obediently got up from the bed. He surprised Emma by offering her a hand up as well. Keeping in mind what had happened the last time she’d grabbed Heath’s hand, Emma gingerly took the appendage, paying way too much attention to the way his large calloused palm felt against her softer one. Forcing herself not to analyze the way Heath seemed reluctant to let go of her hand once she was on her feet, Emma followed Heath and Charlie down the stairs and into the kitchen, where they sat at the table in the center of the room.
Mrs. Potter immediately set a plate stacked high with over a dozen cookies down in front of them. “Eat up!” she ordered.
The cookies, of course, were delicious. Heath shot her an incredulous look when an obscene moan escaped her mouth after she took her first bite of one. “What?” Emma asked. “They’re good!” she defended.
Mrs. Potter insisted Emma eat at least three more after that, and it was no hardship to do so. The buttery, chocolatey morsels all but melted in her mouth. The group washed the cookies down with large glasses of milk poured for them by the ever hospitable Mrs. Potter.
“Play with me,” Charlie pleaded with them afterwards, not letting Emma and Heath escape back upstairs. Charlie’s round, angelic face was hard to say “no” to, and she and Heath were quickly suckered into playing two rounds of Old Maid (Emma lost both times) and a game of Candyland (she lost again). Charlie was in the midst of trying to talk an amused Emma and a pained-looking Heath into playing Twister with him when Mrs. Potter interrupted them.
“It’s nearly three, Heath,” she said, shooting him a pointed look before offering Emma a wane smile.
Emma was shocked at how fast the time had gone by. Heath was, too, if his startled expression was anything to go by. “Right,” he muttered, glancing Emma’s way. “I’m sorry, it’s just that I have to… I have to…”
“It’s okay,” Emma interrupted, offering Heath an out. As curious as she was where he went every Saturday at three, it was clear enough that Heath wasn’t comfortable telling her, and she could accept that. Really. She could. Even if he obviously wasn’t heading into work like he’d told her all those weeks ago. “It’s getting late. It’s time I get going anyway.”
“It was great having you over, Emma, dear,” Mrs. Potter said. “We’ve missed your face around here.”
Charlie nodded vigorously in agreement.
“I’ll grab your coat and the poster from upstairs,” Heath offered before heading up the stairs to do just that.
Emma froze. Until he’d mentioned the poster, she had completely forgotten that the supposed reason she was coming over to Heath’s house in the first place was to work on their project. But they hadn’t worked on the book report at all.
Emma pressed her lips tog
ether in an effort to keep from smiling as widely as she wanted to, ignorant of Mrs. Potter as she bustled about the room. She’d been worried that she and Heath would no longer see each other – at least not outside of school – after presenting their project. And it was due this coming Wednesday, at the end of the half week of school they had before Christmas break.
As that worry withered away, something warmer took its place in her belly.
“You can come back tomorrow!” Charlie exclaimed, starling Emma and dragging her out of her thoughts.
“Maybe,” she agreed kindly, but doubted that Heath would go off script and invite her over on a Sunday.
“You should!” Charlie insisted excitedly. “It’s Heath’s birthday! He’s turning eighteen!” He sounded both impressed and envious.
Emma’s eyes widened in surprise. “It’s Heath’s birthday?”
“Yeah! I made him this.”
Emma watched as Charlie rooted around in the Batman backpack slung over one of the kitchen table’s chairs. He pulled out a homemade card. Although composed of simple construction paper, it had clearly been made with love. The card was decorated with an abundance of glitter and featured a drawing of two boys – one obviously taller than the other – who Emma assumed to be Heath and Charlie.
“This is great, Charlie,” she said sincerely, handing him back the card.
“So, will you come?” he asked.
Emma frowned, thinking it over. “You know, maybe… maybe I will.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
Emma refused to acknowledge the amused grin Luca was attempting – and failing – to hide behind his hands, and she outright ignored the twelfth exasperated sigh from Collette.
Instead, she focused all of her attention on her current task: fishing out the multiple egg shells she’d accidentally dropped into the cake batter.
“Can you remind me again if this is supposed to be a gift for Heath on his birthday or an attempt on his life?” Collette asked.
As if her skepticism of Emma’s baking skills wasn’t obvious enough.