The Last Heartbeat

by Katerina Simms

  Her strained laugh returned. “Thanks for pointing that out.” Her free hand lifted and hooked around his wrist, turning him more toward her, a gesture of affection, like she meant to challenge his observation. “You really know how to make a person feel better.”

  “And you know that’s what I’m trying to do, right?” The question slipped through him, gentle and husky. “Even if it feels like I’m being overly assertive.”

  She looked down and nodded. “Yeah, I know you mean well, but I’ve grown comfortable in my reclusive ways, so when someone like you comes along, my issues are more real. You make it hard for me to push you away, while not fully understanding what you’re asking of me.” Her gaze reconnected with his, grip on his hand tightening. “There are times when I’m with you, and I feel so trapped.”

  His stomach lurched, and he reached out to stroke his thumb to her cheek, at least glad when she nuzzled into him. “I’m sorry.”

  Maybe he’d been wrong to pursue her. Maybe he’d be best to step away.

  She snapped her attention back to him. Her cheeks flushed.

  “More surprisingly, there are times like tonight. Like before…” She pointed to the wall where he’d fucked her into literal, soul-baring tears. “When I feel completely free.”

  He jerked back. His entire body stilled. That wasn’t what he’d expected her to say.

  Then again, maybe he’d already sensed that sex with him eased her pain, a form of escape he could understand. But he wanted more.

  And even then, what he wanted didn’t matter.

  So, he drew in a slow breath, setting his mind to changing the subject. “Everyone at the office is worried about you. Some of us thought you might never return.”

  She gave a sigh, shoulders dropping. “I’ll be back tomorrow.”

  “No, you won’t.” He shook his head, putting forth an unyielding stare. One that hopefully let her know not to argue. “You’ll be back when you’re ready. And you’re not ready. I’ll talk to Sue in the morning and make sure she knows everything’s covered until you return.”

  She startled, pupils dilating, while she shook her head fiercely from side to side. “Don’t tell Sue. I’ll be back tomorrow. I need to be there. I need to work.”

  No, she didn’t. She knew no other way of surviving. Work was her crutch. He’d figured out at least that on his own.

  She looked like a scared deer again. A woman who’d not only dealt with the misfortune of losing a child, but the brutal trauma of watching the whole thing happen.

  He took a deep breath, understanding now why he’d once thought her similar to the soul-shattered warriors he’d served with. Agathe was soul-shattered. Scared, too.

  But the only person who could set Agathe free was Agathe. All he could do was offer support and hope she opened up to him beyond the basic requirements of their deal.

  Like tonight.

  Tonight was proof of hope.

  Maybe he wasn’t so screwed, after all.

  “Stay here with me tonight.” He paused, a little surprised at his offer. He watched fear shadow her already dark eyes, a fear he so desperately wanted to chase away. “We don’t have to do anything more than sleep. And you don’t have to be alone.”

  21

  Agathe hugged a warm paper cup of coffee in her hands, her attention on the glass shop window display, housed within an exquisite building she’d shunned for far too long. The Block Arcade was a Melbourne icon. Her favorite shopping spot. The high, stained-glass ceilings and the intricate mosaic floor alone were worth visiting and stood as the perfect model of Victorian-era design and classic Italian architecture. For so long, she’d denied herself beauty and leisure, but thanks to Luke’s insistence, she’d taken the day off to revisit a pastime she hadn’t indulged since before Elsie’s birth.

  A light tingling spread throughout her body, on this, a completely atypical day to herself, all after spending an entire night cuddled up to the most heart-stirring man she’d ever met.

  She felt gratified. A little content. And the sight of a royal-purple silk scarf had her feeling even better.

  The scarf popped with silver paisley leaves. Feathery tassels dangled off each end. The material itself looked soft and delicate, and her fingertips itched to reach through the glass and stroke it, because where her current wardrobe consisted of dark and neutral hues, she’d once lived for flamboyant design and out-there colors. And even if she never felt right wearing the scarf, she wanted it all the same.

  She clasped her coffee cup harder, fearing the small moments of joy unfurling within. What was she even doing? Had she begun to move on?

  Her breathing paused. Her elbows pressed in, constricting her ribcage.

  Her night with Luke had upended everything.

  For the first time in years, she had a taste of life beyond her usual, daily drone. She’d given Luke far more than just her body. She’d given him the reins to her hope. A hope she hadn’t wanted, much less known still existed.

  He also had a seat at the center of her inner world.

  The one place Elsie still lived on.

  Her shoulders slumped with her heavy sigh, her elbows also releasing. Meanwhile, her mind flipped between the scarf and her more terrifying thoughts, of how Luke had handled yesterday’s outburst with far too much calm and too much skill; more a credit to him and a hassle for her since so much of her grief survived on how fruitless her life had become.

  Worst of all, he’d knocked over her biggest obstacle.

  The one that said no man would accept her past.

  He’d damn-well accepted it. Then hugged her through her tears. Then invited her to stay with him.

  Another disconcerting thought entered her mind, perhaps a reaction to that wicked, colorful scarf. She hated taking time off. She hated thinking too. Or at least the kind of thinking that involved pondering the details of her life.

  What the hell is happening to me?

  She pressed her coffee cup to her lips, muffling the small voice in her head that reminded her she’d banked up months of unused leave, so maybe she could take more days off. Rest a little. Maybe even live out her old dreams of taking holidays and seeing the world.

  Shut up, Agathe. Stop it. Right now!

  The dark, bitter taste of coffee hit her tongue, and she took refuge in the passing of other rugged-up shoppers. Fighting her grief, fighting her fears had only ever landed her in more trouble. Her sex-fueled ambush of Luke last night, a case in point.

  She didn’t even want to think about why she’d agreed to spend the night. Heck, the casual chat over breakfast this morning, which involved her vocalizing an admiration for his “just woke up” face and his ruffled hair… and then there’d been his sexy-as-hell deep morning laugh.

  Yeah, none of that lust-fueled musing belonged to her.

  Luke had cracked something wide open within her, leaving perhaps zero chance of her mending the break. Weirdest of all, today was the easiest day she’d had in years. She’d endured an evening of turmoil, only to wake to complete and alien normalcy.

  She rolled her eyes and told herself to get a grip, and while she was at it, stop overthinking the whole Luke thing. What she needed was distraction. What she needed was her wallet.

  She dug around in her small handbag, only for a light dinging sound to alert her to a message on her phone. She peered deeper into her bag, the mocha-colored silk lining lit up from the glowing screen and one far-too-heavenly-looking name. Luke.

  Of course he’d message just as she contemplated forgetting him.

  She pulled out her phone and read the message. It’s past time for a proper date. Meet me at Tiny Tokyo’s after work?

  She sank back and punched out a hurried reply. I can’t.

  Her mouth slid open at her abrupt response. A bit rude, maybe? Then again, this was the day off she should have taken yesterday, before she’d pushed herself to breaking point and ended up on his doorstep.

  And a date? Really? Dates meant talking and
intimacy. She’d given him enough of that already, even though talking and intimacy crossed far from where she’d planned on this relationship going.

  She typed again, deciding the man at least deserved a little more than a two-word rejection. I’m sorry, is that bad?

  Ding. No. Not at all.

  I’m enjoying the day to myself.

  Why was she even explaining herself? Hadn’t she planned on ending things with him eventually, anyway? She wouldn’t work at Tiluma forever.

  Her phone dinged with another reply. It’s fine. I’m happy for you. Enjoy your day.

  Her pulse gathered, and a lump caught in her throat. Why did it mean so much to know he was happy for her?

  Because he was good to me when he could have been a total exploitative asshole, which is what I was hoping for, since that would make ditching him a million times easier.

  Dammit. The stupid voice in her head was right. She frowned at her phone, at her preference for spitefulness over kindness. This whole exchange was bloody confusing and only dredged up one question after another.

  Her phone pinged again. Tomorrow, then? :)

  She jerked her chin back, though a smile broke past her initial desire to ignore the message and put her phone away.

  Her heart strained, and she whispered to herself. “Damn you, Luke. Why are you so annoyingly understanding?”

  And with that, a sudden flood of sadness weighed heavy on her shoulders. The man didn’t give up, which was probably a good thing, being a CEO and all, but that meant she couldn’t keep him at bay forever. Not after last night. Not after he’d refused to take advantage of her. Not after he’d accepted and supported her through a gut-wrenching retelling of her last moments with Elsie.

  Though she’d need to turn him down eventually, not even an ice queen’s heart could punish his kindness with a silent rebuff. She worked up the courage to run her fingers over the touch screen. If he could show grit, then so could she. She’d find a middle ground. Something she could live with. Something more her recent style.

  Fine. Tonight. Your place. Sex. No date. ;)

  Her heart pounded, damn near ready to bust through her chest. Agathe Santos could never be described as brazen, but here she was, brazen and ready to once more sleep with her boss. Because sleeping with Luke felt so overwhelmingly empowering. Because brazen also meant avoiding the closeness he wanted that she couldn’t give. Maybe if she stuck to this tack, he’d tire of her and move on of his own accord.

  She wouldn’t have to break both their hearts.

  Minutes passed, and her phone pinged one last time, his single word reply enough to keep the flood gates well and truly open.

  Okay.

  22

  The scent of sex and summer flowers lingered in the air. Luke ran a knuckle down Agathe’s upper arm, admiring the warm tone of her skin against his paler complexion. Her head lay across his shoulder, and she smiled up at him, sated in his bed.

  “Go on that date with me.” His voice was hushed and heavy, and he kissed the top of her hair; a gesture more intimate than he usually enacted, but he needed to indulge in a rare moment of affection.

  She groaned and turned to bury her face against his neck. “Why?”

  Because I might be in love with you.

  He couldn’t share his true thoughts, so he let out a soft chuckle, deciding not to get too insulted by her protest. “Because I want to get to know you outside of this bed.”

  She laughed, her breath brushing his skin. “You’ve known me in other places too. Your office desk, the living room wall, and then there’s your shower not a half hour ago.”

  Another laugh rumbled through his chest, despite her avoiding his request.

  “Fine.” He brushed a sandy-blonde strand off her shoulder. “I want to talk to you away from this bed, or any walls, or showers. I want us to meet somewhere public for a conversation over dinner.”

  She let out a sigh and rolled back so her gaze hit the roof.

  “I can’t.” The afterglow of vigorous sex dimmed on her rosy cheeks. “No. I can’t.”

  A dull pain bunched in his chest, and he reined in his own groan of frustration. He’d half-expected that answer, but her rejection hurt all the same. “Because you’re scared of letting me get closer?”

  She shook her head, deep lines appearing between her brows. “No. Okay, yes. But mostly because I’m not right in here.” She patted her chest, indicating her heart. “Or in here.” She pointed to her head. “You told me to deal with my mess, and I thought I was improving, but yesterday showed just how far I am from ever being a complete person.”

  “I don’t believe that.” He wrapped his fingers around the same hand she’d used to point out all the places she needed work. “I believe yesterday was a step forward.”

  Her gaze danced around his face. “You think so?”

  He shrugged, drawing from all that life had taught him about recovering from adversity. “Some things get worse before they get better. You’ve gone through a lot of change lately, and upheaval is expected.”

  She dipped her chin, peering up at him through narrowed eyes. “Change? You mean, because of you?”

  “You said yourself, it’s been a while since you’d been with a man. I believe no amount of convincing would have brought you to me if a small corner of your heart hadn’t been looking for something more.”

  She stared at him for a long time, her dark eyes gaining a depth he couldn’t quite discern, though, at least the lines on her forehead relaxed. Maybe some of what he said had broken through.

  “Something, as in a relationship?” Her eyes shone overly bright, outright daring him to confirm that’s what he meant.

  Well, she definitely had some magical hold over him, but not enough to deem him completely senseless.

  A smile crept past his lips, and he worked hard to hide its full force. “Something could mean whatever you want. Whatever you feel is missing in your life. But a woman as smart as you would know where my stance lies when it comes to relationships.”

  “Smooth save there, Romeo.” She returned her stare to the ceiling. “But I can’t decide what I want when it comes to anything.”

  “Well then, while you decide” —he hugged her closer, his thumb stroking the curve of her shoulder, her skin like living silk compared to his— “how about I tell you a story about myself?”

  She jerked her focus back to him, mouth dipping into a frown. “A story?”

  “I know more than a few intimate truths about you now.” He squeezed her shoulder, his way of reassuring her everything would be okay. “It makes sense that I should share.”

  “I don’t know about that. We’re pushing too far past the limits of this relationship.”

  He laughed. “I think we crossed more than a few limits against my living room wall, not to mention my desk, shower, and now this bed, remember?”

  She gave him a playful slap on the forearm. “Hey, you know that’s not what I meant.”

  “I know.” He kissed her forehead, hoping each warm gesture he offered would, over time, accumulate enough to melt away her distrust. “But my story has a point, and you should hear me out. I know you better than you think.”

  Her eyes glinted, amused and perhaps a little unbelieving. “Really, now?”

  “Really.” He took a deep breath and sank back into his pillow, preparing to share one of his darkest memories. A memory that dragged on him every time he conjured it up. A memory that had shaped much of the life he lived now.

  “I haven’t always been Luke Tindall, up-and-coming CEO of a successful tech firm. I grew up the shy kid, who routinely ditched playing with others to wander alone in the woods back in York. I liked solitude. I liked exploring wild places and getting into scary situations. To those who knew me, it was no surprise when I became a soldier and then a sniper.”

  Agathe let out a gasp and leaned away. “You were in the military? You shot people? You killed people?”

  He gripped her shoulder, imp
loring her to hear him out. Though the slack expression on her face made his insides churn; he’d received similar reactions before. It was why he so very rarely talked about his past. “Guys who terrorized villages and targeted the vulnerable. They took hostages, raped, murdered, and worse, Agathe. Every clean shot I made saved many more lives than I took. I might have many regrets, but I don’t regret a thing I did as part of my service.”

  Her eyes eased off from their open alarm, and her entire body held an unnatural stillness. Long seconds passed before she gave a stiff nod for him to continue.

  He took a deep breath. At least she’d partly accepted that detail of his former life, though she’d probably need more time to truly come to terms with it. “For many years, I didn’t need people to survive. I loved being alone, in remote locations. I’d spend days and weeks alone, away from base camp, deep in enemy territory. My career required I be cold, a loner, and I excelled at my job. Thrived on it, even.”

  He shook his head, remembering the stoic, stubborn, detached young man he’d been. To this day, he still struggled to find a middle ground between his regimented past and his indulgent present. The very reason he let Max run a little too free.

  “And then, just as my military contract ended, the war also ended.” He let out a rigid laugh, recalling the disorientation of it all. “I got shipped home from Iraq, back to normal civilization, back to living within the confines of a simple house in Scarborough. I didn’t adjust well to the luxury of modern amenities and the suffocating pressure of well-meaning people dropping by to check on me. I couldn’t go back to my job, but I couldn’t stand my new life, either.”

  He turned to Agathe, once more relating to her disconnected existence without her child, how a life-altering event could make being with and relating to normal people near impossible. “I’d find myself roaming the streets at night, taking those familiar detours into the forest from my childhood. I half-searched for peace and solitude, while a darker side of me hoped to find trouble. Anything to break the monotony and provide any kind of purpose.”