“Well, we’re back.” Her mother didn’t hesitate near the entrance for long, nor did her father. They made quick strides across the den to the spot Scott and Hope once occupied. The compassion she expected to see wasn’t there. Weariness and disappointment replaced it.
Delia must have noticed too because she patted Heaven’s arm and asked the question they both wanted answered. “How did the search go?”
Her mother didn’t respond. Instead, she lowered her eyes and pressed her lips in a thin line. The gesture made Heaven’s stomach roll. She wanted to ask what was wrong, but unlike her mother, her father had the decency to address the issue.
“We didn’t find anything.”
The room swam. It grew difficult to remain on her feet. What little strength she had faded, and she fell back to the cushion. A well of tears blurred her vision before spilling over. There was no way of stopping them so she dropped her head into her hands and wept.
“He’s in trouble. I know he is. I feel it in my soul.”
She tuned out the sympathetic words coming toward her from all directions. Nothing they said would make her feel better. She needed her husband, needed something to dull the pain.
More energy trickled into the room, but there was no hope of it being Dylan this time. Thinking it would only bring her more disappointment, still, her curiosity got the best of her. She pulled her hands from her face and saw Layla and Dane walk in. Spencer wasn’t far behind.
All three joined the group huddled in front of her, their concern as sincere as her parents’. She hated the way everyone stared at her like a cracked Faberge egg, so she closed her eyes.
“Still no word?” Layla asked.
When her mother’s voice replaced the silence, Heaven focused on the ache in her chest. The same ache spread through her body, making the muscles in her stomach cramp harder.
“Ouch…” She whispered the word and cupped her stomach, but it didn’t go unnoticed.
“What’s wrong, sweetheart?”
Delia returned to the other cushion. Her palm warmed Heaven’s navel when she placed it against her belly. She left it there, adjusting its position a few seconds later, and then again. After going all the way around, her hand stilled.
“You’re having a contraction.”
“I know,” Heaven cried, “but I need to find Dylan. What if he’s hurt, or worse…what if he—?”
“Don’t say it. He’s not dead, Heaven. He’ll be here. Please trust me.” Delia caressed her stomach again, hesitating on the spot where the baby last moved. “You need to calm down, for your child’s sake. She’s in protective mode, Heaven. She’s trying to keep you calm and it’s stressing her little heart. Please, stop crying.”
“I can’t!” She clutched her belly and gritted as the hardness spread. If it didn’t stop, she’d deliver her daughter tonight.
A wave of heat broke through the fear clouding her mind. She opened her eyes to the same spot where her mother stood, but it wasn’t her mom staring at her. It was Layne.
His jaw flinched.
The rapid rise and fall of his chest made his nostrils flare, like he was out of breath. He knelt in front of her, cupping his hands around her knees. “What’s wrong with her?”
“She’s having a contraction,” Delia answered.
The heat within him increased. “Where’s your son?”
“I wish I knew, Layne, but we still haven’t heard from him.”
The answer didn’t appease Layne. He squinted in her direction. Delia stood and then walked past him, but he didn’t say anything else. He remained on the floor in front of Heaven, studying her. His thumbs stroked the inner sides of her knees.
“Hey… Are you okay?”
She hated the concern she saw. He didn’t need to worry about her. He needed to heal. If something happened to Dylan, she’d need him more than ever.
The mere thought made her shiver. A new trail of tears dampened her cheeks as she glanced away.
“Heaven, look at me.” His words were above a whisper, but they affected her, nonetheless. She met his gaze. “Focus on me. Don’t think about anything else but the sound of my voice. Will you do this for me?”
“I…I don’t know.” No matter how hard she fought the urge, her lips quivered again.
“You’re not concentrating, Heaven. Look me in the eyes.”
He leaned in closer, holding her gaze until the tears receded. The concern she noticed faded, and he uncurled his fingers from her knees. Instead of pulling them away, he moved them halfway up her body to her belly. Their warmth radiated through her shirt when he pressed against it.
“I want you to close your eyes and visualize yourself in the woods.” He waited for her to do what he asked. When the daylight disappeared from her sight, the sound of his voice returned. “Notice the scenery surrounding you and tell me what’s there.”
The harder she fought to clear her vision, the less she saw. “I’m not sure. Everything is blurry.”
“Center yourself, Heaven. Find a tree, focus on the trunk, and tell me what you see.”
She concentrated on his voice, the way a hint of tenderness hung in each word. The same tenderness filled his touch when he thumbed over her stomach. A blanket of heat swaddled her, chasing away the chilling effect of her fear. Within the warmth, she found the courage to blink her mind’s eye. Yet nothing appeared.
Then she blinked a second time.
It was as if someone had flipped a switch. Month-old leaves rustled under her feet. They covered the barren ground in various piles, their multicolored hues long faded. No grass peeked through, but despite the lack of vegetation, there were plenty of trees to admire.
Eyeing the grooves in one trunk, she followed the lines until her head tipped backward. The branches formed a natural barrier overhead. If it were spring, leaves would be blocking her view of the sky.
“I see a maple tree in front of me.”
“Good,” Layne replied. He swept over her stomach, soothing the tightness within it. “What else do you notice about the tree?”
“There are two cardinals on one of the branches…a male and female. I think they’re building a nest.”
“You’re doing great, Heaven. Now, tell me what you hear and smell.”
A nearby brook babbled in the distance. She inhaled the crisp, clean air, noting the scent of rain. “I hear water flowing, and it must have rained because the air smells a little briny.”
Another wave of heat burst from Layne’s palms. He moved his hands around her navel in alternating circles. He repeated the motion until every inch of her skin swirled with heat.
When the tightness waned, Layne’s throat cleared. “Okay. Let the scenery fade around you. Once it does, I want you to count to three, open your eyes, and look at me. Okay?”
“Okay.”
The sound of the brook, the scent of rain, even the maple tree, faded. Darkness consumed her once more and she counted backwards, reaching three a few seconds later.
Daylight filtered into her eyes when she opened them. The brightness made them sting, but she ignored the sensation and stared at her Keeper.
“Hey,” he whispered.
“Hi,” she replied, unable to stop herself from reaching for his cheek. No matter how soft his voice sounded, his energy still beat with concern. She trailed her fingers toward his jaw before he caught her hand. He eased it from his face, not to remove it, but to press his lips to the center.
“You’re going to be okay.” His promise pulsed inside her palm as he kept it to his lips. “I’m here to protect you, both of you.”
Another stroke of his thumb decreased the heaviness in her chest. His attention shifted to her stomach where his hand lay. Curiosity spiraled inside him, curiosity that caused the corners of his mouth to lift. Even the hand atop her belly grew warmer.
Once the remaining pressure disappeared, she drew in a deep breath. She was in awe of Layne, of the way his presence fueled her anger one minute and soothed her fea
rs the next. “How did you do that?”
Placing a small amount of space between his body and hers, Layne tilted his head toward Delia’s Keeper. “It’s a technique I learned from Spencer. I’ve used it a few times and figured it would help you.” He glimpsed at her lips, hesitated, and then shifted to the ground. “I’m glad to see it did.”
A wall formed between them, much like it did right after he awoke a few days ago. He pushed up on his knees and stood in front of her. When he stepped away, her heart pinched. It caused their connection to tremble and Layne to reface her. His brow rose.
“What’s wrong?”
She parted her lips to answer him but shut them again. She wouldn’t ask him to stay by her side, wouldn’t ask him to comfort her while she waited for her husband to return. Doing so would be unfair, and yet, knowing that didn’t make her need him any less. Of all the people standing about the room, he was the only one she wanted to be near.
Damn fate and its twisted sense of humor…
“Nothing is wrong, Layne. I’m fine.”
Lying to him wasn’t easy. It may have been for Faith but not her. She played with a loose thread on the cushion and waited for him to leave. He would at any second. There were other things he needed to attend, and babysitting her wasn’t one of them.
The cushion beside her gave. She’d been too consumed by her thoughts to notice him lowering his body to the bench. He leaned into one of the pillows but didn’t look at her. The way his brows knitted together had her drawing her bottom lip between her teeth.
His anger was the last thing she needed. If he said one cross word, she’d be a blubbering mess.
Layne drew her into an embrace, resting his head atop hers. All the sadness reforming in her heart disappeared. She leaned her cheek against his chest and closed her eyes.
Everyone in the room was staring. Their energy spoke of it, but she ignored the vibes and snuggled closer to Layne. He tightened his arms around her at the same time Delia suggested everyone give them privacy. When she no longer sensed their presence, she tilted her head back and faced him.
“Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For being here. For helping me. For getting me… I don’t have to say a word, yet you already know how I feel.”
The moment he caressed her face, she fell silent. The heat within him had her pausing for a breath. “It’s our connection, isn’t it?”
She concentrated on his voice, how it wavered with curiosity. He still didn’t know about the affinity they shared, unless one of their parents told him. But if they had, he would have mentioned it by now.
Or so she thought…
“Yes. It’s our connection, Layne. It’s why I’m so adamant about our friendship. I want to be close to you. I need to be close to you.”
“Heaven…”
He couldn’t finish, only stammered over the words twisting his tongue. When she touched her fingers to his cheek, his lips stopped moving. Warmth pulsed around her and his eyes fluttered closed. He formed a mental wall between them, but it crumbled the second she buried her face against his neck.
“Please, don’t push me away, Layne. I need my friend.”
The heat of his breath tickled her ear. He brushed the hair from her face before cradling the back of her neck. “I’m right here, Heaven. I won’t let anything hurt you.”
They were only words. But coming from him, they provided comfort. So did his touch. She knew he’d give his life for her and wouldn’t think twice. He promised as much months ago and lived up to his word in Cleveland.
The ticking clock reminded her of a similar promise—Dylan’s promise. He vowed to never fail at protecting her long before they married. Despite his passive abilities, she knew he would do so at all costs. But the price for her safety wouldn’t be cheap.
His disappearance proved that fact.
CHAPTER 2
The pendulum on the grandfather clock swooshed from side to side. It taunted Heaven with each second it ticked away. Those seconds turned into minutes, and minutes brought about hours, like the last two she’d spent in Layne’s arms.
She tuned out the noise, focusing instead on his heartbeats. Each thump echoed in her ear, the strong rhythm a welcome sound. It wasn’t but a few weeks ago that an arrow pierced it, reducing the beats.
His energy had weakened too, the same energy that warmed her cheek. She concentrated on the pulsating vibes as he trailed his finger down her back and up again, repeating the path with each sweep.
Aside from the chattering in the front of the house, the den remained quiet. Neither she nor Layne needed words to communicate, not when they shared an affinity. She couldn’t ignore the fact that he’d picked up on more of her emotions since they came home. He hadn’t told her as much. He didn’t need to. His actions were proof enough. The only explanation was their affinity.
All the anxiety that had him keeping his distance had dissipated within the last hour. She hadn’t given him much choice, clinging to him the way she was. What other choice did she have? He was the only one who could take her mind off the ache in her heart, the ache her husband’s absence caused.
When the Westminster chime rang twice, a car door closed in the distance. Layne heard it too. He glanced at her when she pulled away from his embrace.
“Did you hear that?”
Once he nodded, she scooted to the edge of the bench. He gripped her shoulder before she stood and motioned for her to stay seated. He didn’t. As he stood, his attention shifted to the bay window. They didn’t linger long. He shot away from the bench and sprinted toward the hall. The closer he grew to the doorway, the quicker he moved. Then he was gone.
Voices echoed through the house, just faint enough that she couldn’t make out the words. What she did hear was the front door creaking open. More voices added to the earlier ones, followed by a few gasps.
She left the bench in her wake, rounding the couch the moment Hope rushed inside the room. She stared back at Heaven, and then her throat wobbled from swallowing.
“Hey, Hev.” She drew out each word and feigned a cheery attitude. To Heaven, it was transparent, but she didn’t interrupt. “Can I talk to you for a sec?”
Something was wrong. Hope’s singsong voice was proof. Her sister had never used that particular tone to show happiness. The vicious thump of her energy confirmed Heaven’s suspicions. Hope was hiding something.
“Is Dylan here?”
“I’ll answer your questions as soon as you sit down.”
Fat chance of that happening…
She stepped around Hope, but her sister moved with her. “Hev, please wait. Don’t go in the other room. Not yet.”
“Then answer my question. Is my husband home?”
Scott stepped around the corner just as she attempted to pass Hope again. To say she failed would be an understatement. He came within inches of colliding with them.
“Slow down, sister. Where are you off to in such a hurry?” He joined his wife’s side, blocking Heaven from leaving the room.
“Oh my God!” She pushed him away, then pointed her finger toward his face, daring him to lie. “Don’t patronize me. What is going on? Is Dylan here? Is he okay?”
“Define okay,” Hope mumbled from behind.
Heaven spun toward her sister. She wanted to ask what she meant, but a slew of voices drifted up the hall. The deeper one belonged to her father, the softer ones to Delia, her mother, and Layla. Yet in the mix of theirs was another voice. It was deep, like her father’s, but gruffer. It sent her heart into a faster rhythm.
Then a face appeared.
It faded as quick as she saw it when a rush of tears blurred her vision. It didn’t stop her from running over to the man who’d entered the room. She didn’t need to look at him to know what her soul already knew.
Dylan was home.
When he wrapped his arms around her, all the pent up fear burst from within. It released with every heave of her chest. Feeling his body next t
o hers seemed too good to be true. She worried she’d fallen asleep and this was all a dream, one that would fade once reality set in.
“I can’t believe…” Her heart hammered her chest, leaving her shaken and unsteady.
Dylan’s arms tightened. His energy thrummed with guilt as much as it did relief. “I’m sorry for worrying you.”
“It’s okay. You’re here now.”
She clung to his neck, resisting the urge to back away and look at him. Something still didn’t seem right, but she pushed away the thoughts. Nothing was more important than the man holding her in his arms.
He squeezed her one last time and then pulled her hands from his neck, but he didn’t step away. Instead, he laced his fingers with hers. It was the precise moment when something moist teased her fingertips.
Curiosity consumed her. She eased back and drew their joined hands into view. After closer examination, she gasped. Crimson scrapes covered his knuckles. They were swollen, bruised, and spotted with dried blood. His other hand was worse.
“Dylan?”
When her eyes rose to his, her mouth gaped. The tears once blurring her vision cleared, and she saw it—the blood…
Tiny droplets had splattered across his bruised face. His bottom lip was swollen, revealing a small tear near the top. More blood streaked the corner of his mouth. It had dried and cracked but was visible. Judging by the rips and blood drops on his shirt, it hadn’t fared any better.
“Oh my God! You’re hurt!”
He flinched when she reached for him. “Some of it’s mine. Some is my dad’s. I beat the hell out of him.”
“You did what?”
The question echoed from her mother’s mouth. They acknowledged each other, but it was brief. Everyone but her father filtered into the den and faced her husband.
“I said I beat the hell out of him. I smashed my fist in his face, over and over. I…I don’t remember stopping.”
His eyes grew glassy as he stared past her shoulder toward the fireplace. No one spoke. Some exchanged glances. Some shook their heads. But their reactions had a common theme. Disbelief. He’d threatened his father more times than she remembered. Acting upon the threat changed the game. She cringed at the thought of the shitstorm guaranteed to develop as a result.
What the Heart Desires Page 2