Blow Me Away: A Mile High Matched Novel, Book 2

by Hovland, Christina

  The alarm still blared, but with the emergency averted, she let the cough she held rack her chest. Doubled over, her lungs continued convulsing. Eyes closed, she let the entire morning wash over her, effectively turning her to the same burnt mush as her cookies. She shoved open the back door to the kitchen, embracing the cool air with deep, broken breaths.

  Hands braced on her knees, she sucked in oxygen. A shadow crossed in front of her, and a cool, damp kitchen towel pressed to her forehead.

  Jase held the same expression from inside, but it had frayed around the edges. Little lines that had nothing to do with laughter crinkled around his eyes. His perpetual cocky demeanor had evaporated.

  “Thank you.” She held the towel to her forehead and wiped her eyes.

  “You okay?” he asked.

  Physically? “Yes.”

  “Good.” He leaned in so she had no choice but to meet his gaze. “What. The. Fuck. Was. That?”

  “I panicked.” She pressed against the towel. “The cookies were burning.”

  “You don’t run into a building when there might be a fire. That’s how people die.” His voice cracked, and the words pierced the anger she carried from earlier.

  “Well, I didn’t. Because I knew it was only a tray of cookies—”

  “It might not have been.” His words were clipped again. Tense. He tipped her chin to force her gaze to meet his.

  She blinked against the sun behind him. “It was.”

  His eyes remained fierce, his fingertips still on her chin. “You take a stupid risk and people die.”

  “People? I’m only a person.”

  His eyes clouded. “You could’ve died, and I would’ve had to live with that, too.”

  She couldn’t turn her head, his grip on her steady, so she followed the path of a dust mote in her periphery. Anything to keep her from meeting his inspection again, because all she wanted to do at the moment was hug the guy she needed to distance herself from. Hang on for all she was worth. Trust him.

  “What happened to you over there, Jase?” she whispered instead.

  “Everybody died.” He leaned in, his expression unreadable. “Because I wasn’t there in time.”

  She gasped. Her back pressed against the brick exterior of the building. She wished in equal parts it would swallow her whole and set her free.

  He dropped his fingers from her chin and straightened.

  The wail of a fire truck sliced the moment in two. He withdrew and his hands dropped to his sides. “The firemen will want to talk to you.”

  She nodded. This was her business and she should handle it, but right now she felt as fragile as one of his porcelain vases filled with roses. “Jase?”

  He paused.

  “I am sorry I scared you.” She gulped. “But I don’t want to go back where we started.” Now she was sounding desperate. Deep breaths, Heather. “I don’t want to have to pretend we’re not together, because your parents hate me.” She took another breath. Get it all out. “Before you, I thought I wanted to be alone, but it turns out I just want someone who wants me, too. As much as I want them. Someone who is all in. I think I deserve that, you know?”

  “Heather—”

  “I don’t think this has to hurt so bad. Maybe we should just call it for what it was—a really good shot at something that didn’t work out.”

  The light in his eyes went out. “That’s what you want? To be done?”

  “I want to stop feeling like you’re not one hundred percent in this.” Fingertips gripping the no-longer-cool cloth, she slid down the wall, ass to ankles, forehead to knees, heart to throat.

  “This is what happens. Shit gets complicated.” He cursed under his breath, kneeling to her level.

  “Maybe that’s why we should stop. It doesn’t have to be complicated.” She said the words, but she didn’t mean them.

  She waited for him to reply with something to make everything better. He didn’t. He stood. She pinched her eyes closed. The kitchen door flung open.

  “Something’s wrong with Babushka.” Candy was frantic. “You need to come quick.”

  Heather hurried to stand, following Jase as he rushed through the shop.

  27

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Heather pinched her lips together, waiting for the fireman to finish his report. She needed to get to the hospital. Make things right with Babushka. God, Babushka had to be okay. She’d had some kind of episode. When Heather and Jase got to her, her face was chalky and she was having a hard time catching her breath.

  The ambulance had just pulled up for the “fire”—Heather used the term loosely. The paramedics took no time in rushing Babushka to the hospital.

  Heather checked her phone, hoping for an update from Jase.

  Nothing.

  “Candy?” she called. “Can you handle the rest?”

  Candy stepped beside Heather. “I’ve got this. Go.”

  Heather didn’t need to be told twice. She scooted out to her new delivery van. Key in the ignition, she squealed the tires pulling onto the street. Rose Medical was only a mile away, but it felt like it took an eternity to get there. She parked the van and dashed into the ER.

  Jase stood near the nurse’s desk with Anna. Heather’s heart seemed to stop beating. How would she be able to see him and not be able to touch him? How would she be able to go back to who she was before Babushka took out her delivery van?

  “Jase,” she called his name. He glanced to her, his expression tense.

  She wasn’t close enough to hear him, but he mouthed her name. She hustled toward him. “Is she okay?”

  “She’s fine,” Anna answered for him. “Not a heart attack, just a blip. That’s what the doctor said.”

  Heather let out the breath she’d been holding since the fire alarm went off.

  “She’s been asking for you.” Jase shoved his hands in his pockets.

  Heather’s rib cage seemed to cinch tighter. She hated that. The hands-in-the-pockets thing. Normally, he’d pull her to his side. The beginning of the end…that’s what this was. And she’d started it. She’d brought it up. She’d have to own it.

  * * *

  Jase had well and truly screwed the pooch. He didn’t want to lose Heather. Didn’t want her to believe he was anything less than all in.

  So, he’d fix it. He’d make it right.

  According to the rules of Dvornakov engagement, if you’re off the hook, don’t screw with it. Jase had been certain he’d be off the hook. He’d decided to keep his Heather life and his family life separate. Everyone would win. He’d dug himself a bunker too deep to escape. All because his brother lied to his mother and Jase was going along with it because it made his life easier.

  “Where is she?” Heather asked.

  “This way.” He jerked his head toward the curtain where Babushka was being evaluated.

  Heather started that way. He strode beside her, letting his hand brush hers. She turned her palm so he could grasp it.

  His blood pressure started to return to normal.

  They’d be okay. He’d fix it.

  “Why’s she here, Jason?” his mom asked from behind.

  Or not.

  Heather dropped his hand. She bit at her lip. “Mrs. Dvornakov, I wanted to apologize for all of the”—she paused—“mishaps with Babushka. I think you and I got off on the wrong foot.”

  “Heather!” Babushka yelled from behind the curtain. “You vill come in.”

  Jase pulled open the curtain, letting Heather and his mother through.

  “Nadzieja.” Jase’s mother brushed past Heather. “I think since she and Jason broke up, it’s inappropriate that she’s here.”

  Heather did a double take. Her eyes focused on Jase. “That’s what you decided you want?”

  No, that’s not at all what he’d decided.

  “Jase said you two broke up.” His mother enunciated each word as though Heather hadn’t caught it the first time.

  No, that’s not what h
e’d said, Jase thought. That’s what Roman had said.

  “What are you talking about?” Babushka frowned. “This is why you didn’t come to my party?”

  “Jase?” Heather asked him. Her eyes didn’t spark with anger. No, this time it was disappointment.

  “No, I never said that.” He shook his head.

  “I said it,” Roman chimed in from behind them.

  “I’m so confused.” His mother looked between Roman and Jase. “I asked you. You said you broke up.”

  He could actually feel the moment he lost control of any aspect of a situation. This would be that moment. “Technically, you said that. I didn’t correct you.”

  “Seriously, Jase?” Heather whispered.

  Time to end this bullshit. “Mom, Heather’s my girlfriend. Roman wanted you to quit ranting about it, so he told you we broke up.”

  “But you knew he was telling her that?” Heather was holding it together, but he could see the way she was shattering beneath the surface. All because he’d taken the easy way.

  “Yeah.” He hooked his fingertips at his waist.

  “And you didn’t think you should correct it?” Heather had tightened her mask, he knew the second she did it. Closed it down.

  But her lip trembled just a tad.

  He’d fucked up. Hurt feelings. Deep ones.

  “That’s why you didn’t tell me about the party,” she concluded.

  The whole day was spiraling and all he could do was watch.

  “You could’ve just told me what was going on,” she continued.

  “This is on me.” Roman stood. “Also, Zach. He backed me up.”

  “So, you boys lied?” their mother asked, shocked. Which was total bullshit, because it wasn’t the first time her kids had told her a fib.

  “You were seriously an unhappy person to be around.” Roman dropped to the chair next to Babushka’s bed.

  Heather hadn’t spoken again. She just stared at Jase. Stared at him like he’d crushed her heart.

  He took a step toward her.

  She shook her head, backing up.

  “Sugar,” he started.

  “Don’t ‘sugar’ me here,” she whispered, her voice wobbling slightly. “You don’t get to do that.”

  She took the four steps to Babushka and gave her a hug. “I have to go now, but I’m really sorry that I missed your party. Please let me know that you’re okay. And take it easy, don’t do too much.”

  Heather was barely holding it together. Jase knew her well enough to know this was killing her.

  Babushka caught on, too. Patting her back and glaring at Jase. If looks could kill, he’d be flayed open right there by her oxygen tank.

  Heather started for the exit.

  “I’ll walk you out,” Jase said quickly.

  She did the little head shake again. “I’m good. You should stay with your family.”

  He wasn’t going to let it end this way. “Heather—”

  She held up her hand. “Really, you should stay.”

  Turning on her heel, she left for the parking lot. He followed her to her new van.

  “Don’t do this,” he heard himself say.

  “Do what, Jase? Lie about our relationship? Tell people I care about that we aren’t together? Worry about my own comfort over everyone else’s? Fall in love with a guy who isn’t all in? What, Jase? What exactly am I not supposed to do?”

  Wait.

  The fuck?

  “You fell in love with me?” he asked.

  “We all make mistakes.” She unlocked the door, pulled it open, and climbed inside.

  He caught the door with his palm. “Don’t make this one.”

  Please don’t make this one.

  “I think you made it for me.” She turned the engine over.

  “Let’s just take a step back.” He’d fucked up, he got that.

  “You want to take a step back? Fine. We’re stepping back. This is us stepping back.” She reached for the handle on the door.

  That’s not what he meant at all. “Heather.”

  “No, Jase. I don’t want to do that. I don’t want to step back. I don’t want to go backward. I’m done with that. It’s time to go forward. With or without you.” She pressed her fingers against her eyelids. “And you’ve made it clear it’s without you.”

  She pulled the door closed. He couldn’t move, just watched as she backed out of the lot. He returned to Babushka’s curtained room.

  “You let her go.” Babushka pursed her lips. “I thought you were smart boy. But you let her go.”

  “Nadzieja,” his mother said. “This is best.”

  “No.” Jase shoved his hands on his hips. “It’s not. But thank you for ensuring that the best thing in my life just walked out.”

  “Jason.” His mother gave him her look. The one that nearly always got her whatever she wanted.

  “I am not speaking to either of you.” Babushka held her head high.

  Somehow, he had to figure out how to make things right.

  “Your problem”—Babushka shoved a finger toward him—“is that you let your mother and your father, and your brothers and your sister, tell you vat you vill do.”

  Also, his grandmother. She forgot to add herself to the list.

  “You come home from combat and you are a mess. Ve help you. Ve make decisions for you. I vait for you to be ready to make your own. But you don’t.” Her moratorium on speaking to him apparently hadn’t started yet. “A little shove I give. And still you don’t choose for yourself.”

  A little shove? She’d totaled Heather’s van.

  That was her little shove?

  He could admit he’d been a wreck when he’d returned home four years ago. He’d lost most of his team in an explosion. He’d come home ready to retire from a life of defusing crude roadside bombs and IEDs. Ready to stay.

  He’d given it his best effort, but he wasn’t the same guy who had left. The shit that happened changed him. One night he’d shown up with flowers and chocolates only to find his house vacant. Divorce papers laid out on the counter.

  The last time he’d reenlisted, Angela had told him she was done if he went through with it, but he hadn’t believed her. Hadn’t believed she’d actually leave. And she hadn’t. Not right away, anyway. But she’d never forgiven him, either. And that shit ate through their marriage.

  He’d taken the flowers to his mother. The chocolates to Babushka. Bought himself a bottle of Jim Beam and tracked down his wife. Her mind was made up. Time to move on. He had downed the whiskey and signed the papers. Pretended to feel nothing. But inside? Inside he’d been shredded. A pile of mush stomped down with no hope for the future.

  And, yeah, that’s when his family had started making decisions for him. He’d let them. They told him to be a florist? He agreed. They moved him back into the family home? He let them. He appreciated not having to think about shit. When they encouraged him to move into the apartment above the flower shop, he’d embraced that too.

  But, fuck it all, he was ready to start making his own choices. Now he was ready to handle his own life. With gratitude for all they’d done, but with an eye for the future.

  “When I convince her I’m all in, you will apologize.” He stared at his mother. “And then you’ll welcome her to the family, because she’s going to be part of it.”

  The chains he’d wrapped around himself started to break free. He looked to Babushka. She nodded.

  “She’s going to be part of it, even if we don’t work out. Even if she decides she wants someone else.” Now he was really on a roll. It’d have to be her who left, because there was no way he could choose to be away from her. “Because she loves Babushka. And Babushka loves her.”

  He mother didn’t meet his stare.

  “And I love her,” he continued over the lump in his throat.

  And it’d taken him too long to realize that bit.

  His mother’s expression softened. “Jason, if she means that much to you, then—
”

  “Then you’ll accept her. You’ll accept her, or you’ll lose me, too.” He didn’t need her acknowledgment. He knew she’d heard.

  He had to get back to Heather. Back to her shop. He bolted to the ER entrance. Since he’d taken the ambulance with Babushka, he started to request a car on his phone app.

  “I got you.” Roman stepped beside him, jingling his keys. “And I’m sorry I fucked this up.”

  “You didn’t fuck it up.” Jase had done that all on his own.

  Now he had to fix it. Stop running and letting life happen to him, and start taking it back. They piled into Roman’s rental and Jase dialed Heather’s number. The line went straight to voice mail, which was bullshit because she never turned off her phone. She’d leave it in her purse or around her apartment or in her office—but he never went straight to voice mail.

  He’d hurt her and that was unacceptable.

  Roman dropped him at her store. Jase shoved the front door open. She wasn’t up front.

  “Where’s Heather?” he asked Candy.

  Candy glanced up from ringing up a customer. “I thought she was with you?”

  Fuck it. No.

  He bolted through the kitchen, taking the stairs two at a time to her apartment. He knocked on her door.

  She didn’t answer.

  There was no tactical breathing now. He needed to find her. Needed to make this right.

  He pounded harder.

  Nothing.

  28

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  She’d broken it off. Heather refused to cry.

  What she needed was a night with her best friends. After she left the hospital, she drove her fancy new cookie van straight to Velma’s Washington Park apartment.

  Brek answered the door.

  One look at Heather and he turned full glower. “The fuck did he do?”

  “I was hoping Velma’s around?” Heather asked.

  Brek stepped back to let her through. “She’s shoppin’ with her mom. Should be back soon. You can hang with Lily and me while you wait.”