Healing Hearts

by Reina Torres

  Nico’s glare at his daughter softened almost immediately. “Sweetie, you should go home and get some rest.” With a wink he nodded his head toward the door, “and come and spring me in the morning.”

  Stella narrowed her eyes at her father. “As long as you promise to be ‘here’ in the morning. If I find out that you’ve escaped on your own,” she gave him a pointed look, “I’ll put you in the car and bring you right back.”

  Stan laughed, trying to hide it behind his hand, but his beard twitched just the littlest bit, giving it away.

  Nico looked between his daughter and his best friend. “Traitors both of you.”

  Stella leaned over and brushed a kiss on his forehead. “Yes, papa, we’re just doing this to upset you.”

  Before she could move away, Nico took a hold of her chin and brushed a kiss on her cheek. “You going to be all right getting home, Steller?”

  “I’ll get her home.”

  If Kyle had thought his world had turned upside down, he wasn’t prepared for the looks that turned his way after he spoke. Stella’s gaze touched his face a moment before she blushed and turned away so her father couldn’t see her face. She didn’t need to turn away, her father wasn’t even looking in her direction. No, Nico had settled his eyes firmly on Kyle’s face with a measuring look that usually came with prom or a first date.

  Even stranger than the first reactions were his own. He didn’t care. Oh, it wasn’t as if Kyle didn’t respect Nico, because he did. You didn’t grow up in St. Helena, with all of the tightknit families and history and not know how you were supposed to behave. And yet, when he saw the warning in Nico’s eyes, he knew where it came from. Stella was his child, his darling daughter, but she was also a woman who knew her own mind.

  Nodding at his grandfather’s curious smile, he held out his hand to Stella. “You ready to go?”

  He’d expected her to walk past him and into the hall. Or maybe even stop beside him and they’d walk out together.

  But when Stella moved toward him, she put her hand in his, giving it a warm squeeze of affection. “Thanks,” she looked up at him with a smile tickling her lips, “I need to get some sleep so I can come back in the morning.”

  “Sure.” He felt her tug on his hand and they both headed for the door. Moving into the hall, he found himself struggling to remember just where he’d parked his car, and just when he’d made the decision to take care of Stella Vincenzo. Because when he wasn’t looking, she’d found a way past his walls and just like the way she’d discovered an ability to destroy his peace and quiet, she had suddenly found the ability to get under his skin.

  Stella felt like she'd turned a corner in her life. And it wasn't just the fact that she'd practically mauled Kyle in the hospital lounge. Sure, that had something to do with it, but it wasn't an effect of the change, instead it was a symptom.

  It wasn't even starting her Bed and Breakfast, no, that was great, but there was more to it.

  It had all started over a year ago when she'd seen a post online. A friend of a friend that she’d met at San Diego State, posted a photo from an engagement party.

  The Groom-to-be was Curt, her old boyfriend. It didn't hit her at that moment, and it didn't even hit her an hour later, but later that night when she’d gone into the bathroom to take a shower, the pain had hit her like a crash test dummy against a wall. She’d pulled her t-shirt over her head, dropping it into the hamper before reaching for her bra.

  It was a plain white one, as they had all been back then, something simple that covered more than enough during the day. But it was those moments when she was alone, when she reached behind her back and undid the hook, and let the straps slide down over her shoulders to her elbows that she wished she could just keep everything covered up from her neck down.

  Looking in the mirror, the steam from the shower fogging the edges, she could see the scars. And dropping her bra to the ground at her feet, she turned and lifted a hand to trace the long edge of it along the curve of her breast. Then she drew her fingers up and over the scar curving under her arm.

  Curt had never seen the scars; he hadn’t even stuck around after the diagnosis. When she’d broken the news to him, he’d given her a long unblinking look as if he was waiting for a punchline. Well she had been too.

  It wasn’t every day you find out that the same thing that took your mother away was planning on taking you too.

  But he’d stood there, and even though he’d once told her that he didn’t wear his heart on his sleeve like she did, he’d certainly let it all out at that moment. His expression had gone from shock to suspicious doubt, and from there it had changed to horror and then revulsion. “So what does this mean?” He’d asked her, as if the decisions had already been made. “Are they taking them off?”

  Them. Her breasts.

  She didn’t really blame him for the grim set of his mouth. She’d been fighting back tears since she’d heard the news from Dr. Chase.

  “No,” she’d hedged her words, “we haven’t discussed the whole course of treatment yet. Dr. Chase wants me to see another doctor for a second opinion and-”

  “So, do you have it, or not?”

  It. Wow. Her life had been downgraded to a B-film made in the area of stop-motion photography. “I have cancer.” She’d sucked a gasp of air into her lungs and then let it back out again. “I have breast cancer.” The words fell from her lips and the ground didn’t swallow her whole.

  She’d moved closer, closing the distance between them to wrap her arms around his neck, but Curt had taken a hold of her hips and stepped back.

  “We’re going to fight this, Curt. It’s going to be-”

  “Stella, I’m… I don’t…” she’d felt the floor crumbling away from under her feet before he’d even formed the words, “I don’t think I can do this.”

  Do this? “This what?”

  He’d pointed a hand from himself to her and back again. “This, sweetie, us. I don’t think I can stand to see you hurting.” He’d held his hands out like a Vegas card dealer. “I mean, I love you, but I don’t think I can stand to see what this is going to do to you.”

  Curt told her that he wasn’t strong enough to watch her suffer, and he was right. He wasn’t strong enough.

  She’d packed up and moved home to St. Helena, and together with her father and his friends, she’d beaten the odds since they caught it early enough, and she’d survived.

  “Stella?”

  She turned her head and looked at Kyle in the driver’s seat of the truck. They were stopped at a light waiting to cross Main Street and even in the shadows of the cab she could tell that he was concerned and the gentle look that he gave her was still so new to her that it threatened to reduce her to tears. Remembering Curt was never easy, but as the light changed and Kyle pulled the car across Main Street, she felt the door to those memories close tight behind her. She opened her mouth to speak, but Kyle's rich baritone filled the cab.

  “Are we going to talk about what happened back there?”

  She wondered if he could see the smile that played across her lips. “You mean when I kissed you?”

  Stella watched his knuckles tense on the steering wheel.

  “And when you kissed me back?”

  “Damn straight I kissed you back.” His voice was deeper now, and she saw him turn to look at her as they turned onto one of the streets that lead them into one of the larger agricultural areas of St. Helena.

  “I’m glad you did,” she sighed as she leaned back against the seat, “it would have been really embarrassing if you just sat there while I made a fool of myself.”

  “I've known you for,” he paused, his mind working as he struggled to find the Vincenzo grove in the dark, “a long time, Stella.”

  Maybe it was just her imagination, but she heard the way he said her name and it felt different, sensual, in her ears. Even if it was her imagination, she didn't care, she’d worry about her sanity later.

  “Funny, I don't thin
k you know me at all.” She laughed when he turned to look at her. Even in the semi dark she could see enough of his expression from the light of his phone where it lay, charging on the dash. “Besides, it's not like you wanted me following you around like a love-sick puppy” she groaned and covered her eyes with her hand. “It's way too late to be having this conversation, so let's blame it on that and pretend-”

  “Is that how you feel, about me?”

  She could hear the caution in his voice and she didn't blame him one bit. So she struggled to explain. “Sure, back in grade school, and then maybe middle. You were years older-”

  “Not that many,” he groused.

  She shrugged even though he probably couldn't see the gesture. “Enough,” she laughed, “and you had beautiful girls hanging on your every word. I think you sneezed once and a girl nearly fainted from the excitement.”

  He huffed and slowed the truck, looking for the mailbox to know when to turn.

  “So all I could do was stare at you from afar and hope that one day I’d be half as pretty as those girls and maybe, just maybe, you'd see me as something more than Teodoro’s little tagalong.”

  Kyle turned his truck into the driveway, and they both rocked when the wheels dipped down to find purchase in the dirt. “A guy would have to be blind not to notice you, Stella. You've changed since those days.” They hit a little rut in the road and he groaned a little.

  She managed to right herself on the seat and focused her eyes over the dash toward the house. “More than you know.”

  He heard the soft words and wanted to take back his comments. He may not be the smoothest talker in the world, but insensitive wasn't his thing either. “That probably came out wrong.”

  She reached out and touched his arm. “It's all right, if you’d noticed me back then, I’d have to worry about you. I was a mess! I’ll still never hold a candle to my mama, but I like the way I look now, changes and all.” She slowed her words, as if she was making the decisions right there beside him. “But I’d like to say that if Kyle O’Malley, my childhood crush, thinks I’m pretty, then I’m all good.”

  The truck stopped and Kyle put the gear in park before he turned toward her on the seat. “Pretty isn't the word I would use, Stella.” He felt her hand tremble on his arm and he covered it with his own. “But tonight isn't the night to talk about any of this. It's been a long day for both of us, and-”

  “Then come inside,” she leaned a little closer so he could see the look in her eyes from the glow of his phone. “There's only a few hours left before dawn, and the roads going back into town aren't any easier to navigate on the way back.”

  “I can make it.” He heard the waver in his own voice and a muscle flexed in his jaw.

  “Okay, you can.” She pulled away, dropping her hand down to the seat between them. “Would it make any difference if I said I wanted you to stay?”

  She meant what she said. He heard it in her voice.

  And he felt it in other places.

  He didn't want to think about why he didn't want to go inside. They were old arguments that he'd given himself until he’d shoved enough people away that he didn't need to think about it. Then again he didn't want to think about the reasons why he did want to go inside. None of them were noble.

  But then again, he wondered, did he have to be? Couldn't he, just for once, reach out because he wanted to.

  “Kyle?” She squeezed the handle and swung the door open, the soft squeak of sound was followed by a rush of cool air. “Are you coming?”

  Now that was a loaded question, but he was beyond caring what it would look like to anyone else.

  Pulling his keys from the ignition, he opened his door and slid out of the cab.

  Stella had a good head start on him, but that didn't bother him. Watching the moonlight play off of her hair in the moonlight, seeing the way it traced the curve of her hip with a silver glow, he followed willingly behind her.

  Chapter 9

  She stepped inside, mindlessly flicking the light switch beside the door as she dropped her keys. The light fixture that flared to life was made of stained glass, a green and yellow patchwork of daffodils that her mother had made. She could feel the heaviness in her body as she made room just inside the door. When she turned, she set her back to the wall and looked at the sight before her.

  Kyle O’Malley standing on her doorstep, one hand braced on the frame, the other at his side.

  It was, as her life went, one of those surreal moments that she would file away for later, a memory that she could look back on and remember that she lived her dreams. And that was really the only reason she'd said what she did.

  There was no way that this was going to mean more for Kyle. He was built like a god, or one of those Viking warriors that they painted on romance book covers. And that wasn't a surprise, he was a soldier, built like a fighter with muscles for days and she had a feeling that if she didn't get her hands on him soon, she'd go a little more crazy than she already was.

  And then he stepped inside, careful to knock the dirt off of his shoes first.

  Polite and sexy. Stella didn't want to think about it anymore, and when he closed the door behind them, she knew that she wasn’t going to let this opportunity go.

  He stepped up to the portrait that her father had hung in the hallway, she walked up behind him and laid her palm on his back.

  “Like I said,” she explained, “I don't hold a candle to my mama.” She knew what he was seeing in the old portrait. Her mother’s skin glowed with health and vitality. She hadn't heard a diagnosis that said she was as good as dead. For the woman in the portrait, her days were filled with love and laughter.

  “You really don't see yourself, do you?”

  He didn't wait for her to answer him. With barely a warning he turned around, managing to capture her hands in his as he leaned against the wall.

  “Maybe if I didn't know you since we were kids this would be easier, or at least a little less awkward.” He drew both of her hands up until he had them pressed against his chest, just below his heart. “But I think you know what you do to me. After the game tonight, there's no hiding that from you.”

  His fingers tightened around hers, drawing her hands higher as he leaned in until his shoulders nearly blocked out the light from the lamp, and still there was enough light to see the look in his eyes.

  Being invisible was one thing, but having him look at her with hunger? She could live a lifetime on that one look alone.

  Just a little while before she’d felt his lips against hers, tasted a moment on his mouth and only wanted more. And more, she decided, was what she was going to get.

  Stella pulled her hands free and set her palms on either side of his face, felt the rough scratch of his more than five o’clock shadow against her skin. And when he turned, rubbing his cheek against her palm, his eyes remained on hers until his lip traced along the tender inside of her thumb.

  And yet that wasn’t enough.

  Pressing her fingers against his cheek she pulled him down, closer, until the lips that had her trembling from a gentle touch against her palm, slanted over hers.

  “Kyle,” she heard his name on her lips and felt him swallow it whole as he turned and gave her another kiss.

  While his hands reached out, and settled on her hips, he pressed closer, mumbling words between them, tilting her head back under the weight of his need.

  And she kept hold of him, sliding her fingers against the nape of his neck, until she found her body fitted against every inch of his that she could reach.

  When his lips lifted from hers, it was only for a moment, and then she felt his kiss on her throat. Following behind the heady sensation was the nip of his teeth against her pulse.

  A breath hissed between her lips and her arms circled his neck, needing him even closer than before.

  “I can get us closer, Stella,” she could hear his voice murmuring in her ear and felt the rasp of his stubble along the soft swell of her
earlobe, “if that’s what you want.” She gasped and instead of answering him in words, she pulled her hands down between them, her fingers grazing the ridges of his abs through the thin cotton of his shirt.

  She managed to put some distance between them, enough to slip her fingers under the hem, skimming her fingertips against his skin.

  His hands fisted in her shirt, his breath escaping from his lips in a heated rush against her cheek.

  “Is that close enough?”

  Kyle pulled away, pushing his back against the wall until she could see his eyes when he answered her question. “Not nearly enough, Stella,” he tugged at her shirt and waited until she pulled her hands free of his, “but if you give me a minute or two, I think I can fix things.”

  She felt her breath catch in her chest as his hands lifted her shirt. It would only take another tug and she’d have to lift her arms to help him get it off. So this was the last chance she had to stop this. To do the one thing Pandora hadn’t managed to do, and put it all back in the box. One more minute and there wouldn’t be a way to hide the truth from Kyle.

  And what she found as she looked up into his eyes, was that she didn’t want to hide.

  If Kyle took one look at her scars and stopped there, at least she’d know.

  So, she crossed her arms and covered his hands, helping him lift the t-shirt up and over her head. Stella reached for his shirt, her eyes lowering to get a look at the abs she knew were hidden away under it, but he took hold of her hands and shook his head. “I’m happy to do this right here, Stella, but I’d rather we had some room, maybe a bed, or I’ll take a table if that’s what you want, but I’d like enough room to see you, all of you.”

  She nodded, slowly. “Sure, only if I get to see all of you, too.”

  And before he could answer, she moved down the hall, kicking aside her t-shirt where it lay on the floor, leading him through the living room. She stopped for a moment with her hand on the doorknob.

  He came up behind her, his shirt balled up in his hands, his eyes on her face. “Second thoughts?”