Hidden Hearts

by Olivia Dade

  “If I spent all my time traveling, how in the world would I hold down a job?”

  For Pete’s sake, why was she arguing about work? The job issue was only one of many. And her main stumbling block, the one she couldn’t seem to see past, hadn’t even been addressed yet.

  “Maybe I could put something in my contract about finding you work with the show.” His face, so tense and troubled, brightened. “I know! You could be part of my research team!”

  She shouldn’t ask. There was no point in torturing herself.

  But the words spilled out, self-preservation be darned. “What does your research team do?”

  He smiled encouragingly. “They compile information about the places we visit. The history, the architecture, and everything else we talk about each episode. You’re a pro at research. You’d be perfect for the job.”

  Wow. That sounded…amazing.

  She hadn’t realized jobs like that—full of travel and adventure and culture and learning—actually existed. Her teenage self would have done anything for an opportunity like that.

  But she wasn’t a kid anymore. And she knew herself too well to be swayed.

  “Thank you for putting so much thought into all this. You’re making me an incredible offer.” Her voice turned thin and shaky. “But I can’t, Miles. I can’t go back to how I lived in California. I can’t do that to myself again.”

  His mouth opened, then closed. He appeared flummoxed. And she wanted to explain, but she was swallowing back too many tears to speak.

  “I don’t understand,” he finally said. “I know you’d miss your friends and family, but your life in California wouldn’t be anything like it was before. Believe me, you wouldn’t be alone or anonymous there this time. Even if you wanted to be.”

  There. He’d finally hit upon the heart of the matter. The main reason she was refusing him, despite her desperation to stay by his side.

  “That’s just it, sweetie,” she whispered, fighting for control of her emotions. “I think being in the public eye would destroy me.”

  * * *

  Oh, Jesus. How had he not understood? Why hadn’t he recognized the main hurdle standing between them and a possible life together in LA?

  “Is this about your, um, difficulties with eating and exercise?”

  Miles didn’t know how else to put it. Disordered eating and obsessive over-exercising sounded so damn clinical. Too cold and distant to use with the woman he loved, sitting knee-to-knee beside him, her fingers laced with his, warm and near and trembling in distress.

  She inclined her head a bare inch. “Being in LA, especially as your girlfriend, might trigger all those old feelings. All my anxieties about my weight and how I look. All the terrible ways I coped with being lonely and out of place. I can’t let myself go back to that life, Miles. Not even to be with you. There’d be nothing left of me.”

  Her breath was hitching in her chest, and the sound of it hurt him. But when he tried to pull her close, she shook her head.

  “If you hold me now, I’ll start crying, and I’ll never get through this conversation.” She sniffled once more, and then straightened her shoulders. “Let’s keep going.”

  He wasn’t a doctor or a psychologist, and he hadn’t done much research about eating and exercise disorders. So what the hell could he say?

  “Mary, I love you. Worship you.” All he could do was tell her how he felt. How he’d protect her. “I’d never let you be lonely. I’d never let you forget how beautiful you are. And if anyone ever made you feel bad about how you looked, I swear to you, you’d never have to be in the same room with that person again.”

  “I’ve seen the magazines. The websites. The comments.” Her eyes had gone glassy with anxiety. “All your exes…God, Miles, it’s horrifying. If I went to California as your girlfriend, I’d be the one in the crosshairs, and I don’t want to be the target of that sort of viciousness. I’m not sure I could handle it.”

  “We’d keep a low profile.” His thoughts racing, he frantically tried to figure out what to do. What argument to make. “And if you needed to talk things through with a professional, we’d find the best person available. Someone who made you comfortable. I promise.”

  Shaking her head again, she gulped back a sob.

  She was working so damn hard not to cry, and he couldn’t stand it. Maybe he should stop talking about her fears and start reminding her of LA’s many advantages instead?

  “Before you give me a definite no, please think of all the reasons you might love living in a bigger city.” His fingers tightened on hers. “In Nice County, the theaters almost never show those obscure tearjerkers you love. But in LA, you could weep all over a variety of exciting locations.”

  She hiccupped a watery laugh.

  “And you said you wished Nice County had more families that looked like yours. LA definitely offers more diversity than here, beautiful.”

  “LA also has a long history of racial tension,” she pointed out.

  Well, he couldn’t really argue with that.

  He plowed onward, determined. “Why did you decide to move there in the first place? What drew you to California, when almost any other college would have been closer to your home and your family?”

  She hesitated. “My gran owned a trucking company. She left me some money. More than enough to pay for college wherever I wanted.”

  “So why LA?”

  “I…” She bit her lip. “I was desperate for access to more culture. Museums. Plays. Concerts. I could have found those in D.C. too, of course, but I was more adventurous back then. I wanted to test myself in a new city and explore a place I’d never seen before, not even on field trips or during family weekend getaways. And I’ve always loved movies. I thought I’d enjoy being close to the center of the industry.” With a shrug, she conceded, “And yes, I wanted to move somewhere more diverse.”

  “Don’t you still want those things? Wouldn’t you still love living just a short car ride away from all the museums and cultural opportunities you could imagine?”

  She slanted him a wry look. “I remember the traffic there, Miles. Don’t ‘just a short car ride away’ me.”

  “If I went to California and you agreed to come with me, I could give you movies. I could give you museums. I could give you plays. I could give you concerts. I’d surround you with all the culture you’ve missed.” He looked her in the eye. “And I’d surround you with my love, Mary. Isn’t that worth taking a chance? Isn’t that worth seeing what could happen?”

  Her throat bobbed as she swallowed hard. “I want to say yes, but…I’m not a risk-taker anymore, sweetie. Much as I wish I were.”

  It hurt. It hurt to hear that his love wasn’t enough to blast her out of a comfortable but unsatisfying existence. Wasn’t enough to induce her to take a chance, when he would give her the world if he could, and when love for her had blasted him out of his own comfortable-but-unsatisfying life in his cabin.

  Maybe he simply loved her more than she loved him.

  Or maybe she was hiding the same way he’d been doing for so long, and he’d never noticed.

  “You’re also not a teenager anymore. Or a woman in her early twenties. You have more information and experience than before, and you know your own triggers and warning signs. You know yourself. And we can make sure you have plenty of contact with your friends and family. We can find you work you’ll love.” This was it. His last and best argument, laid in front of her like a red carpet. “Are you telling me you plan to spend the rest of your life in a small town? One that doesn’t have any of the opportunities and resources you want? Really?”

  She gave a little sob, but he kept going.

  “And you’re doing it out of fear? Because you don’t believe in yourself anymore? Because you’re not willing to take chances, even for love and the possibility of a better life?” He shook his head. “Mary, you dragged me out of hiding. Let me do the same for you. Let me help yo
u get what you really want.”

  At that, she dashed away her tears, tugged her hand free from his, and climbed out of bed. “You don’t understand, Miles. You don’t get how bad it was. How hard it would be.”

  “I’ve been isolated from my brother and my friends for months now. By my own choice, true, but that didn’t make it any easier.” He thrust his left arm toward her. “And I have some experience when it comes to body acceptance issues and fear of public scrutiny.”

  Her expression, so lost and hopeless, crumpled even more. “You’re right. Of course you’re right. And you have a much better excuse than I do for being scared. I’m sorry.”

  He didn’t want an apology. He wanted her to change her mind.

  “If I can take this chance, I know you can too. I’d support you every step of the way.”

  Her head gave a seemingly automatic shake, and he knew: He was losing her. He’d failed. In the most important conversation of his life, he’d failed.

  “I appreciate that more than you know. But, sweetie…” She gathered her pajamas from the chair by the closet. “I’m not you. I’m not brave or strong.”

  He shook his head in disbelief. “That’s what I don’t understand. How can you say that?”

  “Because it’s the truth.” Her hands trembled as she pulled on her clothing, reinstituting a physical barrier between them. “You have a wonderful life waiting for you in California. I understand why you’d want to leave, and I wouldn’t blame you for going. But if you do go—”

  “Don’t say it,” he told her, his voice raw and choked. “Please, Mary.”

  “—it’ll be the end of the line for us.” She couldn’t control her tears anymore. They rolled down her cheeks, gleaming in the light of morning. “I’m so sorry.”

  Taking her hand, he brought it to his face. Pressed it against his own wet cheek. “Please reconsider. I swear, I’d never let you fall. I’d never let you suffer.”

  Her thumb stroked away his tears. “I love you, Miles.”

  “I love you too.”

  He was watching her face, but he couldn’t make out her features. Couldn’t focus on anything but the impasse they’d reached.

  How much could he give up for her? How many of his dreams could he set aside?

  And if he went back to California, if he decided he wasn’t willing to sacrifice his future for their relationship, how could he ask her to choose any differently?

  After one last, tender caress of his face, her hand dropped away from his, and he let it go.

  “You should head home. Spend a little time with your brother before he leaves.” Her voice was a sliver of sound, broken and thin. “Will I still see you tonight?”

  He loved her too much to argue any longer, to contradict what she’d told him she wanted. Even though leaving her in that moment felt like careening through the sky once more, alone and helpless, the merciless ground waiting to greet him.

  “Yeah. I’ll see you tonight.”

  If he returned to LA, Mary wouldn’t break his fall.

  At least this time he wouldn’t lose an arm. Just his heart.

  21

  When Miles skated back to the bench, sweat-soaked and panting, Sam clapped him on the shoulder. “How are you holding up?”

  I don’t know what to do with my life and have barely exchanged a word with the woman I love in over forty-eight hours. In other words, great. Fan-fucking-tastic.

  He tried his hardest not to look at the stands, where Mary was sitting next to Constance. The sight of her, usually so welcome and comforting, only hurt him more right now.

  Shake it off, he ordered himself. No more self-pity.

  “Fine.” Miles took a long drink from his water bottle. “But my balance is still dicey. And my left armpit hurts like a motherf—” At the sound of toddlers shrieking as they ran up and down Iceville’s concrete stands, he rethought his wording. “Like someone who loves mothers very much. In an intimate way.”

  Sam snickered. “Nice save, dude.”

  The final buzzer sounded, and to Miles’s heartfelt relief, the game ended. After a few fist-bumps and final words, most of the green team headed for the locker room. Unsure whether he could actually make his legs move, Miles stayed put. Sam remained on the bench too, eyeing the frayed tape on the blade of his stick and a chip along its shaft.

  And before they could flee across the ice and follow their teammates, Natasha arrived in front of the bench, her helmet hanging from her fingertips.

  “Motherfucker,” Sam muttered.

  Miles shot him a glance, brows raised, but Sam just shrugged. “Make tender love to moms if you want, O’Connor. I’m a little more graphic.”

  Natasha ignored Sam, scanning Miles with narrowed eyes. “You’re sweating like a pig.”

  “Careful.” Slinging one skate-clad ankle over the other, Miles sat back and prepared to be taunted. “You’ll turn my head with your compliments.”

  “Not bad in the face-off circle. Good forecheck too. Still skated right past you at least a dozen times, though.” She smirked, clearly pleased by the ass-whipping she’d given the blue team. “You’re a center, remember? You need to do some defense.”

  He turned to Sam. “I don’t know whether to thank her or take out her knee with my stick.”

  “No point.” Sam shook his head. “She’s like the Terminator, bro. She’ll just regenerate into a stronger, pissier form.”

  “Whatever.” She tapped her stick against the concrete floor. “I talked to Zeke. He said he’d be happy to help you however he could. Here’s his number.”

  She thrust a slip of paper into his hand. It had Zeke’s name, e-mail address, and phone number scrawled in all caps.

  “This is your former teammate? The guy who’s part of the National Standing/Amputee Hockey Team?” Miles asked.

  “Duh.” The stick tapped faster. “If you plan on skating with us for much longer, it might be worth calling him. Although you’re probably heading back to California soon, right?”

  “Nat…” Sam sighed. “This isn’t your concern. Leave the man alone.”

  “It’s fine, Sam. I can handle it.” Miles turned back to Natasha. “What makes you say that? Why would I head back there soon?”

  “The Naked Carpenter has been on hiatus way too long.” She stopped tapping her stick and met his gaze directly. “It’s time for him to resume kicking ass. Preferably with Mary in tow.”

  He choked a bit. Oh, shit. She knew? Had she told anyone else?

  Before he could ask, she waved her helmet dismissively. “You look like you’re about to crap yourself, O’Connor. No, I haven’t said anything to anyone. I’m not a snitch.”

  He exhaled in relief. “Thank you. For keeping my real name to yourself, I mean. Not for telling me I appear incontinent.”

  She pinned him with her stare. “So are you going back to Hollywood?”

  He couldn’t help it. He had to glance over at the stands, where Mary waited for him in her cute red winter hat. As soon as he looked her way, she smiled at him. Not a big smile, and probably not a real one, either. But she was trying. So he did his best to smile back before turning away and answering Nat’s question.

  “I…” Mary. Oh, God, how can I leave Mary behind? “I don’t know.”

  “It sucks that you lost your arm. But you can’t let it beat you.” She sounded fierce, and her golden-brown eyes were blazing with conviction. “You deserve better than a live burial here.”

  She didn’t understand. Not about Mary. Not about the risks of public exposure. But he knew she wasn’t entirely wrong, either. So what could he say?

  She didn’t wait for a response. “See you soon, Wolcott. Try not to lose quite as miserably next time.” Her stick gave one last, decisive tap. “And give Zeke a call if you want, O’Connor. But I hope like hell I don’t see your sweaty face in this rink next week.”

  Unexpectedly, she flashed a wide, wicked grin. “I’d rather
see your sweaty, naked chest on my TV again.”

  She skated off without a backward glance, leaving both men temporarily speechless.

  “Let’s go,” Sam finally said, getting to his feet. “Before she comes back and physically tows you all the way to California, like it or not.”

  Miles hesitated. “Are you in a hurry?”

  Sam waved up at Con and Mary, pointed toward the parking lot, and sat back down. “Nope. I have all the time in the world.”

  The men sat quietly while the women made their way toward the lobby. When they were out of sight, Miles turned to Sam. Over the past few months, he’d come to like and respect the other man. Which was handy, since he desperately needed a sounding board.

  “I’ll keep it speedy.” The scoreboard had gone dark, the stands had cleared out, and the Zamboni driver wouldn’t hear them. Miles could speak freely. “HATV wants me back, but Mary won’t come with me. So now I need to choose between her and my life in California.”

  “And you love her.” Sam sounded sure of that.

  Miles nodded. “More than I ever imagined possible.”

  “You can’t change her mind?”

  “Nope.” Although God knew he’d tried. “She has good reasons for not wanting to move. I was hoping she’d take a chance and see if we could tackle her fears together, but...”

  “Some things can’t be changed.” Sam nodded. “I understand. Believe me.” His gaze flicked over Miles. “No wonder you look like someone kicked you in the gut. I thought it was just worry about your first game.”

  “These last two days have been pretty terrible.”

  A vast, vast understatement. He and Mary, while still nominally together, had hardly spoken since that emotional conversation. Hadn’t laughed together a single time. Had barely touched, other than holding each other at night.

  He understood why, even though the distance was gutting him.