Healing You

by Katana Collins

  “Lemon meringue pie,” she answered. Ronnie gave a nod and bolted out of Elsa’s cafe, shouldering past Yvonne. A moment passed between the two ex-friends; for all of a second, he saw just as much anger in Yvonne’s face as Ronnie had in hers. They circled each other like two dogs looking for a fight.

  Luckily, the moment was fleeting and Ronnie broke eye contact first, pushing through the door and exiting the diner.

  “Hey, Yvonne,” Lydia called, waving her over. “I’ve got a question for you.”

  Yvonne bounced over, the brief flash of anger all but gone, and gave Steve’s hand a quick squeeze in lieu of a hello. “What’s up?”

  “Marty mentioned that we should talk. Cam and I already have all the stuff we need and so instead of gifts, we’re going to feature local non-profits that we want people to donate to. I would really love to include the Maple Grove Animal Rescue in that.”

  Yvonne’s hazel eyes went glossy. “Really? That would be amazing.”

  Lydia waved her sentiments off. “We’re also running in your race. I’m slower than a turtle trudging through molasses, but I’m determined to finish.”

  Steve nudged Yvonne. “Compared to this one, I’m slow as hell, too.”

  “But you always finish, don’t you, Steve?” Callie joked, wiggling her eyebrows at her brother.

  Steve cringed while Lydia hid a snicker from behind her hand. “You’re my baby sister. You’re so not supposed to be joking like that.”

  Yvonne dipped her gaze to the floor. One finger pushed between her lips, and she nibbled her nail as the tops of her ears flushed pink. “It’s gonna be a really fun day. And hopefully we’ll get these animals into homes. That’s what it’s really about.” She reached into her purse, pulled out a business card and handed it to Lydia. “Here, call me next week and we’ll talk.”

  Lydia packed up her magazines and binders, tucking them into a canvas bag. “Well, I should run. Gotta pick Maddie up from Girl Scouts.”

  “And I have a date with an Adirondack chair and the lake before the sun goes down.” Callie grabbed her purse and pulled her sunglasses onto her nose.

  “Easy there,” Steve said, gesturing to her tan. “Don’t forget sunblock.”

  He couldn’t see her eyes behind the shades, but he was certain she was rolling them at him. “Okay, Mom.”

  “Seriously, Cal. Once you’re a raisin, you can never be a grape again.”

  “God, I promise.” She lifted onto her toes, giving him a hug. He curled an arm around her and kissed the top of her head. When their dad died, Steve had missed a lot of his younger siblings’ milestones. Through middle and high school, he was usually drunk or stoned as a way of coping with their dad’s motorcycle accident. It wasn’t pretty. And he hated that he’d missed so much of their lives. Hell, of his own life.

  He watched, waiting as his siblings cleared out of the cafe before looking to Yvonne—really looking at her. Her jeans hugged her muscular legs and the soft cotton shirt draped over her full, lush breasts. Her blond hair was twisted on top of her head in a messy bun that left wisps falling out around her face, and sunglasses acted as a headband. Holy hell, she was stunning. She was always stunning… but today especially, her cheeks were flushed, her lips plump and swollen. And he couldn’t help but wonder if that extra glow was a result of him—of them. God, he hoped so.

  “Hey, you,” he said finally as a greeting, looking her dead in the eye and careful to give nothing away about the freaking bees nest buzzing around in his stomach.

  “Hey yourself,” she responded playfully. With a tilt of her head, her eyes brightened. What was that about being careful to give nothing away? Yeah. That was out the fucking window with that one look from her. She stole the breath right from him. Because those eyes? That gaze? Nothing was hidden within her. And if she wasn’t going to play coy, then he sure as hell wouldn’t either. “What do you wanna do tonight?” she asked.

  A rush of heat surged through his body, tightening his cock with that one simple question. He inwardly growled… or at least he thought it was inwardly. Until Yvonne’s eyes widened, her full lips forming into a circular ‘O’. “Control yourself, Tripp.”

  “Around you? Almost impossible. What do you say we get food to go, grab the dogs, and eat at my place?”

  “I say why waste any time? You get the food, I’ll get the dogs and meet you there in fifteen minutes.”

  “I like the way you think.”

  “And I really want to kiss you right now,” she whispered, dropping her gaze to her feet.

  A jolt froze his heart. Up until then, their relationship had been behind closed doors. Up until this second, they were theoretical, and either of them could walk away without the town getting involved. Without anyone being the wiser. Sure, people might make assumptions and gossip, but nothing would be confirmed.

  Christ, the idea of going public was scary. But the good kind of scary. Like how he felt right before his first class in veterinary school. Or how he felt right before he saw his first patient in his own practice. That sort of unease that comes with a new experience that you know will forever change who you are and shape who you will be in the future.

  “Would you object to me kissing you? Here… in public?” He stepped even closer, but waited for the answer. Because once they entered this relationship openly, everything would change.

  “No, I wouldn’t object to that.” The words rushed out in a near gasp.

  Even though the cafe was crowded, the noise seemed to drift away as though they were being submerged underwater, the noise around them merely muffled murmurings. People could have been staring. Reporters could have been flashing pictures in their faces for all he cared. Right then, in that moment, he just desperately needed to feel her lips on his. To know that she was in this as deep as he was. As Steve took the final step, dropping his hands to her waist, the front door burst open and Benny came tearing through the cafe, Lila trailing after him.

  “Benny! No! Heel! Heel!!”

  Yvonne sighed, pulling back from him before turning and giving a loud whistle, stopping Benny in his tracks.

  Steve groaned, shoving his hands into his hair. “Are all the dogs in the world conspiring against us?”

  Yvonne gripped Benny’s leash, guiding the dog toward the door. “What do they know that we don’t?”

  ‡

  Chapter Twenty

  After getting Steve’s address, despite the fact that she absolutely knew his exact house… a fact that she would never admit to him (or at least not on their second date), she clipped the leashes to all three dogs and walked to his house. He was just pulling into his driveway as they reached his mailbox. He flashed a heart-stopping smile as he got out with to-go bags in hand. “Veggie burger with cheese for you sound good?

  “Sounds perfect.” She let the dogs loose in his backyard as Molly jumped to greet them at the fence. She followed him inside, taking note of the black leather couch and matching black furniture. The kitchen was mostly white—white marble, white cabinets. The house had a modern feel to it that was completely unexpected.

  “This is where you live,” she said, walking around, noting the simple décor. The lack of knick-knacks. The giant flat screen TV and sound system speakers at every corner of the living room—how typically male of him. A small table beside a tall bookshelf held a record player—how typically not male of him—and what looked like a whiskey decanter. And Yvonne made her way over to it, running her finger along the glass etchings. “Whiskey?”

  Steve’s jaw tightened. “Scotch. The decanter was my father’s.”

  Yvonne immediately pulled her hand back as though the glass could slice her open. She hadn’t known Steve when his dad died. But she’d heard of Mike Tripp’s death when they moved to town. The gruesome motorcycle accident he’d had was talked about in the high school for years. It had rocked the whole town. “I bet he’d be happy you have it.”

  “I was ten when he gave me my first sip of scotch.” Steve chuck
led at the memory. “It burned so damn bad. He told me it was an acquired taste, but… I don’t know. I was always more of a beer guy, I guess.”

  Yvonne slowly turned to face him. He was purposefully not looking at her—or so it seemed; he busied himself by pulling out the food from the to-go bag. “I bet he’d be proud of you.”

  For a moment, he lifted his gaze to hers. It seemed like he was going to open up to her. Reveal his emotions. But as quickly as the moment came, it also faded, replaced by the same hardened indifference she was so used to with Steve. “Proud that I’m a beer guy? Maybe. He did love his Rolling Rock.” Yep, there it was. That light-hearted humor he used to mask his pain and vulnerability.

  “That’s not what I meant and you know it.”

  “I do.” His gaze drifted out the back window into the yard. “Gatsby seems to be feeling a lot better,” Steve said in a clear effort to change the subject.

  Yvonne crossed back to him, grabbing a french fry and nibbling the end. She swallowed the salty fry, buying herself an extra couple of seconds to switch gears. “Gatsby’s feeling a lot better, yeah. I did what you said and made a ton of food in the crock pot for him and froze it into meal portions. He scarfs that down no matter what now.”

  “Good.” Steve slid down to the floor, leaning against the couch and Yvonne did the same, nestling her body against his. She unwrapped the veggie burger, inhaling the smell of melted, gooey cheese and a freshly cooked patty. Elsa’s food was damn incredible, she thought with a smile. On top of the white paper to-go bag, she saw a note scribbled to her in Sharpie: Yvonne: If you give my daughter any more animals from that rescue, I’ll make sure you’re only ever served oatmeal from here on out! Love, Elsa

  She chuckled and held up the note as Steve looked on. “You see this?”

  “Oh yeah. There was no stopping her once she learned that the meal was for you.”

  Yvonne crumpled the bag and tossed it to the side. “Benny’s a good dog. He just needs to settle into the new home and he’ll be fine.”

  They each took a few bites. Yvonne turned her face into the soft cotton button down shirt and inhaled deeply. He smelled amazing, like fresh cut grass and a hint of lemon.

  “I have something to ask you,” he said, breaking her thoughts.

  Uh-oh. But instead of answering him, she simply put down her burger, turning to face him straight on.

  “My brother and Lydia are having an engagement party. Typically I don’t bring anyone to these things, but I was thinking it could be fun—”

  The tension slid away and Yvonne smiled, interrupting him. “I’d love to come.” A little flutter wriggled against her ribcage and she relished that feeling. It had been so long since a man had made her feel something so sweet.

  He paused and she watched as he licked his lips nervously, sending her a sheepish grin. “Already? Damn, woman, at least let me finish eating first.”

  “I mean, I’d love to come to the party,” she said, pushing his hand away as he circled his fingers against her thigh. “I’d love to go with you.”

  His grin widened. “I suppose it’s a… date.”

  There was that flutter in her chest again.

  “One more thing—” Scratch, scratch. Little paws scratching at his back door interrupted the conversation and Steve smiled, popping up to let all the dogs in. Gatsby immediately walked to Yvonne’s other side and plopped right down beside her. Her loyal, gentle giant. While the other dogs ran around the living room, exploring the new house, he stayed right by her side.

  “So?” she asked. “You were saying there was one more thing?”

  “Yep.” He pushed onto his knees, pulling a simple white envelope from his pocket and handing it to her. “Here.”

  “What’s this?”

  Steve rolled his eyes, paralleling the motion with a smile. “Why do people always ask that? Just open it and see.”

  She opened the letter and pulled out a few pages of something that looked like an official paperwork. “Biotech Labs,” she read. “Gatsby’s lab results?”

  Steve’s smile spread wider. “Yep. Keep reading.”

  She scanned the pages, most of the wording far too technical for her understanding. “I don’t really know what I’m reading for, Steve…”

  “You’ll know it when you see it. Second to last paragraph.”

  She skipped down and froze as her eyes landed on the word: Remission. Her gaze darted back to his, moisture brimming her eyes. “Remission?” her hand fell to Gatsby’s back, gliding down his soft fur.

  Steve nodded. “Yep.”

  “Gatsby’s in remission!” She didn’t wait for his answer and pushed to her knees flinging her arms around Steve’s neck. “This is the greatest gift I could ever ask for. Thank you.”

  “It doesn’t mean we can stop chemo… it just means that the medicine is working, which is great.”

  “How much longer do we need to continue treatments?”

  “Maybe another four to five months. But we’ll start scaling them back in a few weeks to where we only give him medicine every two weeks or so. Then after those five months, we’ll wait and see how long his remission holds.”

  “I can’t believe it.” She smoothed the paper out on the coffee table in front of her, careful not to ruin it. As though wrinkling or tearing it could make the truth disappear. She dropped her cheek to Gatsby, squeezing him in a hug. “Good boy, G.” Almost as though the dog knew something great was happening, he sat up, tail sweeping across the floor in excited wags. He slurped a kiss across her cheek and even though Yvonne knew it was ridiculous, she could have sworn her dog was smiling at her. She chuckled, giving him another kiss on the nose.

  They finished eating and watched some bad reality television as the sun dipped below the horizon outside. Yvonne stood, stretching her arms over head, and Steve popped to his feet right behind her. “Don’t tell me you’re leaving already?”

  Yvonne shook her head. “Just need a restroom.” The relief in his eyes was so evident, so obvious, and he was fearless about showing it. It gave her courage to go all in with him, too.

  He pointed around a corner to the back of the house. “Just in that inlet over there,” he directed her.

  She turned into the corner off of the living room and was met with two closed doors. Not thinking anything of it, she tried the door on her right first and found herself peeking into Steve’s garage. It was dark, but a little bit of light from the house gleamed against a strip of metal propped in the corner. Yvonne forgot all about needing to pee and instead slipped into the garage, feeling the wall beside her until she found the light switch.

  Slowly, she made her way over to the wall where Steve’s—well, his dad’s—motorcycle was leaning against its kickstand. The thing looked perfectly preserved. In better condition than it ever looked in high school. Polished, and though he had clearly worked on it in the years since high school, it looked like it hadn’t been ridden in ages. It was too clean, too perfect. And someone had put a lot of time, effort, or money into repairing it after his father’s accident.

  “As tempted as you might be, don’t pee on that bike.” She turned toward Steve’s voice, finding him leaning against the doorway into his house. With a casual step, he moved toward her… toward the bike, and dragged his hand gently down the sleek lines until his grip landed at the handlebar.

  “It’s even more beautiful than I remember from high school.”

  He nodded, a sadness tightening around his eyes that she hadn’t seen before. It was a different kind of sadness. Not the same regret he had when giving her updates about Gatsby or even about their history. No, this was something altogether different. “She is beautiful, huh?”

  “But you don’t ride anymore.” It wasn’t a question. She knew he didn’t ride. She hadn’t seen this bike around town since high school. Hadn’t even seen it randomly parked anywhere, let alone speeding through the streets.

  “Nah. I kind of grew out of all that.”

  �
��You used to love riding.”

  He gave a sad sort of chuckle that resonated like a piece of glass in her heart. “I loved feeling like a badass. I loved all things destructive. I didn’t actually love riding.”

  Yvonne studied his face carefully and the way his mouth pinched into a straight line. She wrapped a hand around the grip and swung her leg over it, sitting atop the bike. Memories slammed into her, buzzing louder than a swarm of bees. How many times had she been on the back of this bike, clutching Steve’s waist as he sped around, bringing them up to the highest point in New Hampshire? She had loved it, too. Hell, maybe she even loved it more than Steve had. There was a time they were fearless together. It was a feeling she only got around him—and when he disappeared, so did that feeling of invincibility. She’d always thought that was just her and that he was solidly confident even after they broke up… but for the first time she was realizing that maybe he had lost that feeling of invincibility, too. There was no more sense of adventure in her life. No more risks she took… not with her life, her job… or most of all, her heart. “I wanna go riding,” she whispered, turning to face him.

  A sharp breath caused his chest to expand, and his pinched mouth turned into a full-on frown. “Not a chance, Eve,” he responded. “It’s a tin can on wheels.”

  “Then why’d you keep it all these years?”

  He shrugged, but it didn’t escape her notice that he turned away, unable to look at her while he answered. “It was my dad’s bike. I want it… I just don’t want to ride it anymore. Just like the decanter. I don’t drink scotch, but it’s still worth keeping.”

  “Does it still work?” The key was in the ignition and Yvonne bent, turning it. Before she could fully rotate it, Steve’s hand came down hard against her wrist, stopping her.

  “Don’t,” he rasped. “Please, don’t.” The muscles around his scar trembled, involuntarily twitching in the same way that Yvonne’s quads sometimes did when she was fatigued from running.

  She released her hold on the key immediately, swinging her legs off the bike. There was something about his reaction. This wasn’t the same as Jonah’s controlling behavior. It was different… it was fearful. Beads of sweat pearled on his forehead and he swiped his arm across his brow. “Are you okay?” she asked.