Healing His Heart

by Sasha Goldie

  I eyeballed the stool behind the host stand. "Why not?" It would be good for me.

  Time started slipping by as I directed everyone that came in the door. Patrick took on busboy duties and cleared tables. Daisy made him keep all the tips for his work.

  "I'd be here with Tyler anyway," he protested. "So I'm already at work, you don't have to pay me."

  "You wouldn't be running around like a chicken with your head cut off and saving me a lot of time and energy. You keep that money."

  After she walked away, I whispered, "Just keep it. She won't take no for an answer."

  Every little bit, I felt like someone's eyes were on me. I looked around the diner several times, but nobody seemed to be paying me any attention.

  "Tyler," a thin voice exclaimed as I pointed to an empty table for a group of tourists. I turned back toward the door to see Martha, the matriarch of the police station.

  "Martha, how is the heart and soul of the Three Lakes PD doing today?" I climbed carefully from my stool to hug the elderly woman. She still worked five days a week at the station, full-time hours. The whole thing would probably crumble and fall to dust when she died. No doubt it was tied to her lifeline somehow like a bad paranormal novel.

  "Better than you," she said, holding me at arm's length and looking me up and down. "You're so skinny."

  "That's what happens when you go nearly four months on a feeding tube."

  "Well, isn't your aunt feeding you well enough now?"

  "Mostly, I stay up in the apartment and rest," I said, walking with her to a table. "But I have someone staying with me. He makes sure I eat." Patrick walked up to us as I mentioned him. "Speak of the devil. Patrick, this is Martha."

  "So, you're Tyler's boyfriend," she mused. "I wondered how long it would take you to settle down with someone."

  "No, no, Martha, he's my live-in nurse."

  She snorted. "If you say so."

  I chuckled and left her to browse the menu. "Sorry about that."

  The skin on the back of my neck prickled again. I turned surreptitiously to see if I could figure out who was looking at me to make me react that way. I didn't see anyone, not even out the diner windows.

  "You still feel like someone's watching you?" he asked. "Maybe it's all the drugs you're on."

  He laughed, but I didn't. "I actually thought about that, but I haven't taken any pain medications in, what, two weeks? All I'm on now is the seizure meds. And they're a light dose."

  He cocked his head. "You haven't, have you?"

  A crash above our heads made us both jump. "I'll go see," Patrick said. "Sounds like Harry got bored."

  6

  Patrick

  As soon as I saw the open door to the apartment, I knew. I'd locked it when we went down to the diner, I was sure of that. We’d been down there about two hours, but neither of us had returned in that time. Daisy hadn’t either.

  I peeked in the door, sure I should run back downstairs, but I couldn’t leave without Harry. What if he was hurt?

  Making the least amount of noise possible, I slid between the door and frame, my gaze darting around the apartment. It was a royal mess. The kitchen drawers were emptied on the floor, and the contents of Tyler’s bookshelf was all over the living room floor.

  The apartment was silent, but I stood like a statue and listened. If someone was still there, I’d dart out the door and down the stairs.

  After what felt like an hour, a whine came from the bathroom. I tiptoed forward, my eyes on the bedroom door, which stood wide open. If someone was in there, they’d easily come out and I’d be totally exposed.

  Snatching a big kitchen knife off the floor, I pushed the bedroom door the rest of the way open, until it hit the wall behind. Nobody behind the door then. Creeping into the room, I found it empty, but checked under the bed and in the closet anyway.

  The tiny apartment really didn’t take long to check, and I was able to grab Harry out of the bathroom and head downstairs.

  “Any chance your mom came over?” I asked Tyler.

  "No," he said. "She's in Bend today on a spa day with her work friends."

  He put the phone to his ear. "What's wrong?"

  "You calling Brady?" He asked.

  I nodded. "The place has been ransacked."

  "What about Harry?" he asked in alarm, jumping up from his seat.

  I held my hands up to help calm him and slow him down. "He's fine. He was locked in the bathroom."

  "Are you sure?"

  "Yes, but him being locked up tells me it was definitely a break-in, and definitely intentional."

  Brady came with lights and sirens and a car full of officers, much to the delight of the crowd in the diner. Everyone loved to rubberneck. We walked up the stairs behind what was probably the entire Three Lakes police force. And Martha. She'd insisted on having a look around. Tyler, Harry, and I waited outside.

  "Okay, you can come in now," Brady said after about an hour. We'd sat down on the stairs and had been throwing the ball for Harry until we had to stop because he got too winded after about forty-five minutes of solid throwing. He was a hardy dog.

  "We tried not to disturb anything as we cataloged and printed the scene," Brady said. "Can you come tell us what's moved, what's damaged, and so on?"

  "Sure," Tyler and I said in unison. We walked in and looked around. My suitcase, which I'd been keeping in the corner on the far side of the couch, was in the middle of the room, my clothes and toiletries strewn everywhere.

  The kitchen drawers had been opened, and the contents flung around. Flatware on the floor, paper towels halfway across the kitchen. It was a mess. I itched to start cleaning it up. "Can we clean, or do we need to leave it out?"

  "You can clean up. Just let us know if anything comes up wrong or unusual. Or missing." Brady stood and watched as we went through it all.

  "This is insignificant, but last week when we suspected someone had been in here, this teddy bear was off-kilter." Tyler pointed to a small stuffed bear on the floor. "And it's been knocked off the shelf. It may be nothing, but it stuck out in my mind."

  Brady had the rookie dust the shelf. "There are no fingerprints, but there's a line in the dust. Look."

  All the officers looked under the light of a powerful flashlight, then Tyler and I were able to look at it. It looked like an object had been set behind the teddy bear.

  "I can't imagine what that is," I said. "It's like there was something sitting there."

  Brady grunted. "If you don't see anything else, we'll leave you to it."

  "Thanks for coming so quickly," Tyler said. "If you have any ideas for what we should do, someone is obviously trying to mess with me. I think if they wanted to hurt me, they could have, easily. They could've just waited until I got home and jumped me. It's not like I can defend myself easily right now."

  "I'd set up some cameras first," Brady said. "And change the lock."

  "Okay. We can do that today," I said. "And order cameras for overnight delivery."

  Brady nodded. “Good. We don’t have the manpower to put someone on your apartment constantly, but we’ll increase the presence in this area. Sit in the parking lot of the diner instead of the gas station to discourage anyone that might think about coming back.”

  After we promised to do what we could to shore up the place, the police left, and I really got down to business putting everything back to order. It didn't take nearly as long as I'd expected it to.

  In no time, the apartment was in order, and I had a frozen pizza in the oven. Tyler arranged for his Uncle Duke to bring over a new door lock.

  "What kind of wine pairs with frozen pizza?" I asked. "I'll run over to the grocery store and get a bottle."

  Tyler laughed. "Yeah, right."

  "Why not?" I asked. "Do you not drink?" I hoped I hadn't stumbled onto some big secret about alcoholism or something.

  "Well, sure I do, but I assumed I couldn't take those seizure medicines and drink at the same time."

 
"You can. You just can't get drunk. The inebriation can be worsened by the medicine but shouldn't increase your chances of having a seizure."

  "Well, okay then. I'm game."

  I grabbed my wallet and ran out the door, down the front steps and onto the sidewalk. Then I realized I hadn't locked the door, but I spied Duke pulling into the parking lot. Waving him down, I smiled as he rolled down his window. "If you finish before I get back, could you hang out? I don't like leaving him alone."

  "Ayup," he said with a nod. I assumed that was Duke-speak for yes.

  With that, I hurried to the grocery store and grabbed three bottles of relatively inexpensive wine, since I truly didn't have any clue what wine, if any, paired with frozen pizza.

  By the time I got back to the apartment, Duke was finishing the lock. "All set," he said. "Like the dog."

  "Great," I chirped. "He's pretty cool."

  He grunted, nodded at Tyler, and left.

  "Is that normal for him, or does he just hate me?" I asked Tyler.

  "Duke? That was downright chipper."

  I burst out laughing as I put the wine in the fridge. "You're kidding."

  "No, he must like you a lot. He complimented the dog."

  Harry flopped an ear as if he knew we were talking about him. "Did he even pet the dog?" I asked.

  Tyler studied Harry and pursed his lips. "No."

  We laughed as I cut the pizza and poured us each three half-glasses of wine. It took every cup Tyler owned to do it. "We need to get you proper dishes," I said as I took a sip of white wine out of an old plastic World's Fair cup. "I mean, you weren't even alive in '82 to go to the World's Fair in Knoxville."

  He snorted. "Other things are more important."

  "True."

  The wine went down easy. Too easy. By the time we finished our half-glasses and pizza, my cheeks were hot, but I was more relaxed than I'd been in weeks. We never did figure out which wine went with frozen pizza. By the time we got around to figuring it out, they all tasted good.

  "Let's play a game or something," I suggested. "Do you have Monopoly?"

  "No. All I have is a deck of cards. Poker?"

  Ahhh, I loved playing poker. I'd have him in the palm of my hand in no time. "Sure." I shrugged. "You may have to remind me what hand beats what, though."

  "I can do that." He cut the deck and began shuffling the cards. The expertise in which his fingers moved to randomize the deck worried me. Casual players didn't typically shuffle so well.

  "Want to make it interesting?" he asked, waving his empty glass at me. The alcohol had affected him more than it had me. I filled his glass half full of the red, but then added a little water. He'd likely not even notice, and it would help him slow down.

  "How interesting?" I asked.

  "Let's make it strip poker." Tyler's full lips curled up into a smile as he arched an eyebrow, challenging me.

  “Challenge accepted.” It was no challenge to me. I would've gladly taken my clothes off for him. All he had to do was ask.

  He dealt the cards, and I ended up with two kings and a bunch of other crap. I kept the kings, plus the next highest card, a nine, and asked for him to replace the rest. He took two for himself, and we bet. "What do we bet?" I asked. I'd never played strip poker before.

  He looked bewildered. "I have no idea. I've never played strip poker."

  I burst out laughing. "Me, neither!"

  "How about whoever loses takes off their shirt?" he asked.

  "Sounds fair to me. Go on three." He nodded. "One, two, three," I exclaimed, laying my cards out. I'd ended up with two nines on top of my two kings.

  "Ha," I exclaimed, sure I'd won.

  "Look closer," Tyler said with a smug grin. He had three twos.

  "Oh, darn," I said in badly mocked disappointment, then pulled off my shirt. My nipples pebbled in the cool air. We hadn't turned the heat on yet and the September weather was already starting to get cool.

  This time I shuffled and dealt. It was time to show him I knew what I was doing and get some of his clothes off.

  I dealt myself the worst hand known to man. I mean, seriously. I kept the two face cards, jack and king, and got the rest fresh. Tyler only asked for one card, which didn’t bode well for the future of my clothed status.

  Sure enough, when I put my hand down, with nothing but a measly pair of fives, Tyler had a full freaking house.

  “Pants,” he crowed, pumping his hand in the air.

  “All right, you don’t have to rub it in.” I unbuttoned my jeans and was about to slip them off under the table. At the last second, I stood, making sure the tent in my boxers was obvious. No reason I should hide from Tyler how attracted I was to him.

  His cheer died in his throat as my erection became obvious. His gaze glued to my crotch, he cleared his throat. “Uh.”

  “I told you, I’m attracted to you.” I sat down and scooted my chair in, gathering our hands and slapping the deck on the table in front of Tyler. “Your deal.”

  He blinked a couple of times, then grabbed the cards, shuffling and dealing silently. “What about your job?” he asked quietly as he handed me my last card.

  “It’ll be over soon, won’t it?” I asked. I might be able to extract myself from the whole lie without him knowing until he was more fond of me. I’d never keep the secret from him long-term. Building a relationship on a lie was never a good idea. But, hanging on to my massive mistake until he could forgive me more easily? That was a line I could walk.

  7

  Tyler

  Patrick’s erection was fucking impressive, especially considering his size. He was, based on the size of the bulge in his boxers, bigger than any man I’d ever slept with, which wasn’t a large sample size, to be honest.

  The sound of the cards hitting the table snapped me out of my sudden obsession with what it would be like to fuck a man like Patrick.

  Did it really matter, though? He couldn't get involved with a patient, but like he said, it would be over soon. I was progressing every day.

  "Well, maybe we should talk about going on a real date." I looked at my cards and tried not to let my eyes drift to his chest.

  I couldn't help myself though. "Can I ask you a question?" I kept eyeing the side of his torso, the curve of his stomach.

  "Of course. Anything."

  "Your shape..."

  He sat back and straightened his spine. "You noticed?"

  "It's subtle, but without your shirt or scrubs on, I can tell." His waist curved in a bit more than most men's would.

  "It's a waist trainer. I use it at night."

  I scooted closer. "Stand up?" He obliged, and the erection I'd noticed before looked bigger. My hands rose, the urge to touch his smooth chest more than I could resist.

  I drifted a finger between his pecs, then down the muscles of his abdomen. Patrick sucked in a breath and his stomach pulled away from my hand, but his dick strained forward behind the thin material of his boxers.

  "Tyler," he whispered.

  My own dick hardened in my pants. "Say my name again," I whispered as my fingers found his soft skin again.

  His chest heaved as he breathed in harder, growing more aroused. "Tyler." This time, his voice was low and husky, yet somehow still soft. How did he manage to be so feminine, yet still so much a man?

  Grabbing his waist, I yanked him toward me, his erection pressing into my thigh, his head falling back. He opened his mouth to me, and a tiny moan escaped his throat.

  As I lowered my lips to his, Harry barked. I turned and laughed at him. "You jealous?" He turned in a circle, then barked again. "What's wrong, boy?"

  "Oh, no," Patrick whispered. "It's his warning. You're going to have a seizure."

  Holy shit, he was right. Harry's movements were exactly what Max had described.

  "Get to the couch, hurry." Patrick pushed at me as I turned.

  "I feel fine."

  "Yeah, but you always do before a seizure. Just go sit."

  I took hi
s advice and settled down on the couch as Harry continued circling and barking. "Okay, I'm sitting. Now what?"

  "Do you feel different? See anything? A lot of people that have seizures see colors."

  I looked around the room, but the wine I'd drunk was making me feel unsteady. "It's hard to tell if it's the wine or a sign."

  "Well, then, lie back."

  The next thing I knew, Patrick was sitting under me, my splitting head in his lap. My head pounded like I'd drank three whole bottles of wine instead of three glasses.

  "What the hell happened?"

  "You had a seizure, but it was mild." Patrick smoothed my hair back.

  "How long was I down?"

  "Just about a minute."

  Harry nudged my hand, hanging off the couch, and I rubbed his head. "I'm okay, boy."

  The mood was pretty much killed after my seizure, so I called it a night. "Thank you for taking care of me," I said as I sat up. "I'm going to take some headache medication and sleep off the after-effects."

  He took my hand and gave it a firm squeeze. "Okay. Goodnight."

  I kept my eyes on Patrick until the door clicked closed behind me.

  What had I been thinking? He was my nurse. He wasn't my type, at all. As I stripped to my underwear, I tried to rationalize what it was about him that allured me.

  He was caring though. And honest. And a hard worker. He'd hopped in and helped at the diner without a second thought. He'd kept the house clean even though that wasn't his job at all.

  His estimable virtues weren't the subject of my mind's distraction as I fell asleep, though. His damn curvy waist was.

  My morning wood the next morning had nothing to do with needing to pee. Patrick's face and body already consumed my thoughts.

  Fucking hell. What was stopping me from going out there and taking him right now? He'd been clear that he was interested. Crystal clear.

  Grinning, I jumped up and went out to the living room without bothering to dress.

  "Patrick," I called as I opened the door. "You up?"

  Not only was he up, he was sitting at the kitchen table having coffee with my mother. I squeaked and backtracked into my bedroom to get dressed.