Where the Heart Is (Hearts Series Book 1)

by L. S. Pullen

  “He always believed that home is where the heart is, and his heart was wherever I was. It sounds cliché, but it’s the truth. Finding our happily ever after took hard work and sacrifice on both parts. Love doesn’t come easy, or without seeing the other at their worst. I think that’s why I feel closest to him when I’m in France—especially now that he’s gone.” She casts her gaze.

  I take her hand in mine. The weight of her fingers as they squeeze mine is welcome and familiar. “Yes, of course it does.”

  “I never told anyone this—not even your mother. He was married before me, you know? She died during childbirth. He lost both her and the baby. I tried to avoid my feelings toward him, but he stirred something in me that not even Lawry had, and I refused to accept it.”

  She lets go of my hand, and then makes her way over to the window while spinning her wedding ring with her thumb—a habit I don’t even know if she is aware of.

  “I tried to ignore the attraction, but one day I had an epiphany. I came to understand that you can’t choose who you fall in love with. When I thought I’d lost him, I knew he’d always have my heart. God, I wasn’t even sure if his feelings ran as deep as mine. He’d already lost the woman he loved.”

  She turns back to me, melancholy in her eyes. “But he did love you. I can’t imagine finding a love like that.” My thoughts flit to Nate as an ache rises in the back of my throat.

  She smiles, her dimple present, and returns to sit beside me, wrapping her hand in mine.

  “He did,” Nana continues, “With a raw passion. He was just as flawed as the next man, and our relationship still had issues, but I loved him fiercely. Still do. Don’t be mistaken, there were times I didn’t particularly like him, and times he was lucky I didn’t strangle him. But I wouldn’t change it—not for all the tea in China. You love, who you love,” she says, and shrugs, matter-of-fact.

  Yes, you do.

  My pocket beeps. I pull out my phone, “It’s Nate asking if I’m ready.”

  I type my reply.

  “Thank you for going with him today.” Her hand squeezes my shoulder.

  Unease weighs heavy in my chest, but I force a smile.

  “It’s the least I can do—to make myself useful.” I fiddle with my phone.

  “You being there will mean more to that young man than you’ll ever know.”

  She pulls me into a warm embrace. Overcome with melancholy, I squeeze her tighter, not ready to let go just yet.

  I don’t notice her come in the kitchen until her scent washes over me…right before she sits down, reaching out to take my hand in hers. She interlaces our fingers, squeezing gently, causing my thoughts to freeze momentarily. Fidgeting in my seat, I take a sip of my now cold coffee and shudder.

  “Ready to make a move?” she asks, tentatively.

  “You’re not eating?”

  She nods, grabs an apple from the fruit bowl, and takes a bite.

  I give her a quick smile and glance around, checking my pockets for my car keys before we head out.

  The drive there is filled with static—the atmosphere almost palpable, my muscles tense. But she leaves me to my thoughts, and it’s only when I park the car that I break the silence.

  “I can’t do this.” Heaviness settles in my stomach as I tighten my grip on the steering wheel.

  “You can, and you will…you’re not alone. I’ll be right there with you. You’re stronger than you realise.”

  I shake my head, rubbing the back of my neck.

  Let’s get this over with.

  I unfasten my seatbelt and exit the car. Meeting her at the passenger’s side, I take her hand in mine. She doesn’t question it, just squeezes a little tighter as we make our way to the funeral director’s.

  A wave of heat swamps me as I push through the entrance, my insides quivering when a lady called Eleanor greets us. She seats us in a private room. It’s beige—boring, neutral. A large box of tissues and a couple of binders sit on the coffee table that’s centred in the room. On one side of it, there’s a grey sofa and two matching armchairs. Maybe it’s designed to make you feel more comfortable or less distracted, I don’t know.

  Eleanor is friendly enough and empathetic to a fault as we work our way through the uncomfortable details. It’s not lost on me that Flick hasn’t once let go of my hand…even though my palm is slick with sweat.

  When the subject of the coffin is broached, nausea engulfs me, a sour taste rising in my mouth. I struggle for air.

  “Sorry, do you think it would be all right if we stopped for a break, please?” Flick asks.

  It’s only when the door clicks shut that Flick speaks to me.

  “Hey, you okay?” she asks, her tone perturbed.

  I shake my head. “No, not really. I have it all here—written on a damn list. I never considered I’d be here discussing coffins. I can hardly comprehend the fact he’s gone.”

  My voice cracks on the last word, my throat becoming tight. I press my palms into my eyes. I can’t lose my shit. Her hand is on my back, moving in small circular motions—like how Nan used to do it when I was upset.

  “Nate, there’s no time limit on these things, and you’re allowed to grieve. This is all so raw. I know Lawry would be proud of you—stepping up this way—like the rest of us are.”

  I want to laugh. Proud? She has no fucking idea.

  “Hardly. I’m a poor excuse for a grandson. I could’ve had more time with him when he was first diagnosed. But no, instead, I fucked off out of the country when the shit hit the fan.”

  It’s my burden to bear.

  “Nate, you were scared. Who wouldn’t be? But you came back when he needed you the most. That’s what’s important,” she says with conviction, taking both my hands in hers.

  “I just never thought he would die. Even after we were told it was terminal… I thought he’d beat it. I still had hope—” The ache in the back of my throat intensifies. “When his pain became unmanageable, I felt completely powerless. That’s when I knew. If I could change one thing, it would be that he didn’t have to suffer like he did.” I can’t look at her, so I concentrate on her thumb as it rubs circles over my knuckles.

  “Nate, you were being positive. It’s what he needed. I’m sorry he suffered… God, I feel so ashamed, not being here for any of you. I know this isn’t about me, but you’re not the only one who feels guilty. You’re a good person, Nate, and a good grandson.”

  She cups my cheek. I close my eyes, taking a deep breath. Soft lips place a chaste kiss to mine. I open my eyes, and they’re greeted with hers. I’ve missed her, and now that she’s back, I understand by her being gone, I was missing part of myself. She’s always been my conscience, and here she is again, right when I need her the most—in all her open vulnerability.

  It’s in this moment I crack under the pressure of it all. Emotions I’ve reserved for the privacy of my room at night break free, releasing an onslaught of tears. Without a word, she pulls me into her body and holds me with reverence.

  I let out a soft sigh, and then inhale deep when we leave the cool confines of the funeral director’s office. A swift summer breeze floats across my skin, my body weary. I could so easily sleep.

  “I wouldn’t have been able to do that on my own. Thank you.” Nate says, taking my hand and squeezing it.

  I’m just glad I held my shit together. I stare at our hands, the feeling so…normal.

  “I’m sorry you had to go through it at all.”

  He turns towards me, pulling me in for a hug. I tense—instinct—but then relax into his arms, trying to recall if he was always this tactile.

  All I know is, being like this with him makes me feel conflicted and somewhat confused. He steps back and grips my upper arms gently.

  “I don’t want to push my luck, but I have another appointment. I didn’t realise how long this would take—” He nods his head towards the building. “I guess there’s no time limit with things like this. It’s up to you if you want to come wi
th me, or you can take the car… I can catch a cab when I’m done.”

  He’s speaking a mile a minute. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen him like this—almost excited. I’m intrigued.

  “I might as well come with you. Besides, what kind of sidekick would I be if I deserted you now?” I say with a smile, the reference so clear in my head, though it was ages ago when Nate used to call me the Robin to his Batman.

  A rumble of laughter escapes him as he nods and starts walking. I fall into step beside him as we head up the high street. When we come to a stop outside a tattoo studio, he smirks before he pushes the door open, waving his arm for me to enter in front of him.

  “After you.”

  Greeted by the smell of surgical spirit and latex gloves, I scan the reception area. Apart from two large binders on the coffee table, two black leather sofas, and a water dispenser in the corner, its décor is minimal.

  “I wanted to get something in memory of him…and my parents.”

  Maybe that’s why he was so inquisitive about mine.

  “I think that’s lovely.”

  “I’m not looking forward to the pain. You know how I feel about needles—hence my virgin skin.”

  I try not to snicker. The word, virgin, and him don’t go together. A pang of jealousy sparks as I think of all the faceless girls he’s been with. I’m not even sure where that came from.

  “It’s not the same as an injection, Nate. Do you need me to hold your hand?” I ask, joking when I nudge him in the ribs with my elbow.

  “Since you’re offering.”

  I can’t stop the heat that rises over my body when he bends his head, turning my hand as he places a soft kiss on the inside of my wrist. Shit, if that doesn’t do things to my insides. He promptly pulls me towards the tattooist and signals for me to sit in the spare chair.

  It turns out Lenny has been tattooing here for over ten years and happens to know the tattoo artist who did mine—small world.

  After a couple of hours, the buzzing of the gun comes to a stop—it’s finished. Nate stands, twisting his neck to look in the mirror behind him as he examines it.

  “So, what do you think?” he asks, smiling. From his reaction, it looks like I don’t need to ask him his thoughts.

  “Honestly, it’s beautiful.”

  A cluster of roses with grey and black shading—symbolic, but not overstated. The sentiment behind the design is lovely.

  “Yeah, I think Lenny got the exact idea of what I was looking for.” Nate has the sweetest smile. It’s been too long since I’ve seen him look like that—happy.

  I excuse myself and wait for him outside. The air is heavy without the breeze. I fan my face and check my phone. Voices interrupt me as a group of guys walk by. It’s clear almost immediately they’ve been drinking—they’re rowdy, intimidating. I clench my jaw.

  “All right, darling?” one of them slurs, wobbling unsteady on his feet, sending a waft of alcohol in my direction.

  I take a step back, pretending to be engrossed in my phone.

  “Don’t be shy, Sweetheart. How about your number?”

  My heart picks up speed as I look around, my pulse racing through my ears.

  I cough to clear my throat. “No, sorry, I’m with someone,” I stutter. This right here is the reason I choose to avoid pubs or clubs. You always get one who can’t handle his drink. Attempting to keep my breathing under control, I count in my head—one, two, three, four, five.

  “I’m sure there’s nothing he can give you, that I can’t.” He edges closer. A whiff of tobacco makes me want to gag. I step back again. I see in my peripheral vision that his friends are halfway down the street. I’m alone. My body becomes tight with tension, dread settling in the pit of my stomach, a cold sweat pooling between my shoulder blades.

  “No, sorry, I’m not interested.”

  Why is it I feel like I have to apologise?

  “No?” He cocks his head, his eyes sliding up and down my body, causing my skin to prickle.

  I rub at my wrist, trying to breathe. Just breathe.

  I shake my head.

  “I’m not sure I believe you.” He smirks, baring his yellow teeth.

  I step to the left, but his arm comes up. I try for the right, but he’s quick for someone who seems half-cut. I lean away, connecting with the wall. He’s in my personal space—trapped. I rack my brain. What was it they taught Sophie and me in that self-defence class? My mind draws a blank.

  I’m barely able to catch my breath when the guy is yanked away.

  “Back the fuck off, man,” Nate growls.

  The guy looks stunned before his lips turn up at the corners.

  “No harm no foul?” he says, hands in the air as he backs away…like he didn’t just try to accost me in the middle of the street.

  What the fuck?

  “Flick, are you okay?”

  I shake my head, my chest tight.

  “Look at me. Just breathe, okay?” His hand is on my shoulder, his eyes filling with concern as he studies my face.

  I breathe in through my nose and out through my mouth. When I can get enough air into my lungs, I nod. Gently, he pulls me into his chest, and I wrap my trembling arms around his waist. My fingers grab hold of his t-shirt. I can feel his heartbeat pulsing as he strokes my hair.

  My face and neck now clammy—a sign I’ve almost had a panic attack. Embarrassment takes hold. I release my grip and step out of the security of his arms.

  “Panic over,” I say, a crack in my voice.

  “Not funny. You sure you’re all right?” He searches my face. I look over his shoulder when I nod.

  “Well, you sure know how to pick ‘em,” he says, taking hold of my hand.

  A snort of laughter escapes through my nose, though I try to conceal it with a cough.

  He looks away with a smile. “Come on, let’s get back before they think I’ve gone and done a runner with you.”

  If only I were that lucky.

  Chapter Ten

  “Hey, sleepy head. Wake up,” Nate says close to my ear, his breath tickling my cheek.

  I rub my shoulder against my ear. A warm shiver runs through me as I blink myself awake. It takes me a few seconds to grasp that I’d dosed off…again.

  Oh my God, please don’t let me have snored, or worse—dribbled. I quickly wipe my palm over my face, sighing with relief when it comes away dry.

  “Sorry,” I say, pulling down the sun visor to check my reflection.

  I attempt to pat down my hair, but curly bits stick up all over the place as I finger-comb it. I sweep it into a bun instead, using a band from my wrist—an indentation of a red ring remaining.

  I peer beside me to find Nate staring, an amused look on his face.

  “What?” I ask, wiping my palms over my leggings.

  “My company clearly seems to have an adverse effect on you,” he says with a lazy smile.

  I swallow, the roof of my mouth dry.

  “I didn’t want to say anything and risk offending your ego,” I say, unclipping my seat belt. His laugh echoes behind me as I get out of the car, stretching my neck from side to side.

  He joins me, leaning back against the car with one leg crossed over the other. I lean back beside him.

  “Hey, can I ask you something?” He turns his head towards me.

  “Depends on what it is,” I say, smirking.

  “No, serious. All jokes aside,” he says with a smile.

  I mirror his smile, remembering how we would piss about when we were younger—bantering back and forth, answering a question with a question. It would drive our grandparents potty.

  “Go on, ask me something,” I say.

  “What happened to you that was so bad, it knocked your confidence enough to bring on anxiety?” he asks, then bites the inside of his mouth.

  I don’t know what I thought he was going to ask, but that wasn’t it. I come over a little queasy, the back of my neck damp. He reaches for my hand, stirring something
in me— something I haven’t felt in a long time. If I told him the truth, he wouldn’t look at me the same, and I can’t deal with pity. Not from him.

  “What happened to me is hardly important in the grand scheme of things. Not when you look at the reason for me being here.” I know it’s harsh—using Lawry’s death to deflect from his question.

  “You’re important to me.”

  His words catch me off guard, my stomach fluttering to life.

  “I can’t talk about it. I’m still a little messed up, to be honest,” I say, exhaling.

  “Come on, Flick. Who isn’t?”

  I pull my hands away and wrap them around my middle. “I’m not stupid, Nate, I know everyone has their fair share of issues.”

  My heart is racing. I can’t do this. I push off the car, trying to walk away, but he stops me. Coming face to face, he looks me straight in the eye. I’m unable to look away. I purse my lips together. For the first time in a long time, I find myself wanting to be kissed. I glance between his lips and eyes.

  His face comes towards me.

  My eyes slip closed when his lips meet mine.

  I release a breath, his tongue darts out, and my lips part in invitation as his tongue meets with mine. The world slows on its axis. The kiss is slow and full of purpose. His tongue retreats as he sucks on my bottom lip. I bring my hand up to the nape of his neck and squeeze.

  The kiss shifts, becoming more intense—greedy—but it’s just not enough. In one swift movement, he lifts me by my waist onto the hood of the car. My heart drums to a frantic beat as I suck in a deep breath.

  Hands on my thighs, he pushes them apart, and steps between my legs. His fingers stroke up and down my thigh before he lifts my left leg, and I wrap it around his waist. He places his other hand over my thumping chest. Then his fingers move, trailing a feather-light caress over my breast…before inching down toward my stomach. His mouth doesn’t leave mine. A sound vibrates through his throat, and I pause, my eyes open.