Running in Place (Mending Hearts)

by L. B. Simmons

  “So, you found the napkin?” Holding it in his hands, he folds it gently and places it back inside the journal, leaving it sticking halfway out just as it was when I found it. I fight not to laugh at the gesture. I’m starting to think he might be a little OCD.

  “Yeah, I’m busted. Or you’re busted. However you want to look at it.” I smile back as much as the pain receptors in my face allow. “Why do you have my doodle napkin? Hoping to make millions off my artwork some day?”

  He smiles, but breaks eye contact with me to look down at the floor. “No. I have it because, while your doodling is truly amazing, it was the first day we were together that we actually didn’t want to strangle each other. I thought it was a momentous occasion, so I kept it.”

  He glances back up at me. “So, since you’re obviously not going to follow instructions and take a shower, we have time to talk about tonight.”

  Damn me and my inability not to snoop.

  “What are you going to do with these lyrics?” I ask, unsuccessfully trying to segue back into the previous conversation.

  “What happened at Cash’s?” he counters.

  “You first,” I deflect.

  Sighing out loud, he sets the journal back down on the dresser before answering. “Well, I’ve been writing them since my mom died. It was really the only outlet I had at the time, so I took it. I’ve been writing ever since. They’re my deepest, most intimate thoughts. Like I said, no one’s read them except you. I should be pissed that you did, but it’s strange. I’m almost relieved.”

  I feel my face turning red, but I’m not really worried. I’m pretty sure he can’t tell with all the bruising.

  “What does your dad think? I mean, Noah, you could put music to these. They’re beautiful.”

  The left corner of his mouth shyly tips up as he once again looks downward, breaking our stare. I find it odd that someone who’s good at everything he attempts is so uncomfortable with compliments.

  “What happened at Cash’s, Tate?”

  Damn it. I thought I had him. I sigh deeply, knowing I’m eventually going to have to come clean, no matter how embarrassing it is.

  “Well, I walked in, and he was making out with that blonde bitch. I completely lost it. I hurled myself across the room, climbed up his back like a spider-monkey, and hit him. Then he repaid the favor. Multiple times.”

  His jaw clicks, eyes still looking at the floor. I watch his fists clench, and for the first time tonight, I notice his knuckles are bruised and swollen. I mentally make a note to ask him about that later as I prepare myself for the “childish behavior” lecture I’m about to receive.

  “I know, I overacted…”

  His head jerks up, and he pushes himself off the dresser, stalking toward me until he’s standing directly in front of where I’m sitting. Crouching down, he places his fingers under my chin and forces me to meet his brown eyes, burning with anger.

  “Tate, a man should never raise his hand to a woman. That shit is unacceptable. There’s nothing you could have ever done to warrant that type of reaction. Do not try to justify his actions to me, ever. I don’t want to hear any of that bullshit you spew just to make other people happy. I’m not them.”

  His brown eyes peer into mine, the intensity of his statement suddenly making it hard to swallow. I clear my throat and once again try to redirect the conversation.

  “My turn,” I say as he lets out a frustrated breath. If nothing else, we’re both extremely good at avoiding conversation when we want to be.

  “Have you put your lyrics to music?” He releases my chin and sits back on his heels.

  “Yes. I’ve done almost all of them actually.”

  “Can I hear one, please?” I ask. “Your favorite.”

  He debates for a while, as he sits on his haunches staring at me, the warring in his mind evident.

  I shouldn’t have asked.

  “Don’t worry about it. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked.” I begin to rise off the bed, figuring this is probably the best time to make my exit to the shower. I’ve most likely already worn out my welcome here, with my gazillion questions and prying fingers, but the truth is I need a place to stay tonight before I face Mother’s house tomorrow. Just the thought of going back there is like a blow to the stomach, so I need to be on my best behavior for the rest of the night.

  Before I can even take my first step, Noah is in front of me, gently pressing my shoulders until I’m seated again. I look up at him to see that his features have softened, the rigidity in his face eased into a subtle smile.

  “I would like to play one for you if you’d allow me a second to pick the one that I want you to hear. They’re kind of all my favorites.” He squeezes my shoulders before releasing them and walking to the other side of the bed, where a guitar case lies propped in the corner. Grabbing it, he comes back around and pulls the chair out from underneath his desk, dragging it right in front of me. After taking a seat, he bends over and unlatches the case, removing a pick from between the strings and places it between his teeth. Taking out the guitar, he gives me quite possibly the sexiest grin I’ve ever seen as he wraps his fingers around the neck and sets the body on his leg.

  After removing the pick from his teeth, he positions his fingers along the strings and strums downward, his knuckles beginning to look more inflamed as he plays. Just as I start to say something, a haunting, heartbreaking melody fills the room, and I become captive to it, no longer able to speak.

  “A light that could burn so bright,

  An inferno in her soul,

  Smoldered by her pain,

  Her sadness hinders her from being whole.

  She hides it well,

  Puts on her clever mask,

  Shields it from others.

  Just let me in, that’s all I ask.

  Let me heal you,

  To fix the broken pieces,

  To take on the torment,

  So it releases.

  I know you,

  So much more than you realize,

  Because I am you,

  My heart drowns in the same sorrow that fills your eyes.

  So let me in,

  Please, just let me in…”

  Never before has my soul been moved, so touched. I can feel his words wrapping around it as he sings. They intertwine with it. They soothe it. They comfort it. They mend it.

  As I continue to listen, I find myself completely overcome with emotion.

  Before he even finishes the song, I’m on my feet. Tears overflowing, I reach for his guitar and remove it from his hands, setting it gently on the ground before my eyes meet his. Taking in his beautiful face, the song echoes throughout my heart, and I find myself no longer in control of my own body. Slowly, I crawl into his lap, one leg on each side, and place my hands on his cheeks.

  With one gentle stroke with my thumbs while holding his stare, I slowly bring his mouth to mine. Parting my lips, I test the waters as he does the same. His warm tongue enters my mouth and his hands grab the sides of my dress, pulling my hips into his, while my hands fall instinctively to the nape of his neck, urging him closer. Our mouths begin to work insatiably — the ignited passion between us now uncapped and overflowing. Together our breaths are heavy, laced with need, as our bodies begin to move in sync, the kisses becoming more and more urgent.

  I want him. So much my heart aches for him almost as much as my body.

  Just as my fingers trail their way from his neck to his chest, his body jerks backward as he places his palms on my shoulders, pressing me away while breaking the kiss. His face turns away from me and my forehead falls to his cheek, knowing I just crossed a line that should have never, ever been approached. We sit in silence, breathless while trying to regain our senses.

  “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that,” I say, finally backing away and sliding off his lap. Just as I turn, he grabs my hand, forcing my body to pivot around while he rises from his seat. Maintaining his hold, he raises his other arm, his han
d sweeping slowly down my hair as he shakes his head.

  “Not tonight. Not like this, Tate.”

  Cupping my chin, he gazes at my mouth while he runs his thumb deliberately across my bottom lip, before bringing his reluctant eyes to mine. “I’m sorry.”

  With that he releases me and leaves, his boots echoing as he walks down the hall while I stay standing alone in the middle of his room, completely overwhelmed and under-equipped to deal with the emotions resulting from our kiss.

  Glancing down at the guitar still sitting on the floor, I bend down to pick it up, and gently place it back inside its case. I run my fingers along the strings before shutting it safely in and setting it back in the corner where it came from.

  His words still penetrate my heart. Every single one of them.

  Let me in.

  I am you.

  Not tonight.

  I’m sorry.

  Taking in a deep breath, I grab the boxers and oversized t-shirt he laid out for me to wear from the bed and head to the shower. One glance in the mirror and I’m brought back to reality and reminded exactly why I can never allow myself the luxury of someone like Noah Reese. The way I felt, the way I feel, when he touches me…

  He will absolutely shatter me.

  And there will be no coming back from that.

  It’s Thursday, and it’s been almost an entire week since I’ve seen Tatum.

  The first couple of days working at the duplexes were manageable, but for some reason this morning, I find myself bored out of my mind without her to entertain me. I gave her some time off from both the bar and here, figuring she needs some time to heal, both mentally and physically. But not having her here, singing to every single song that plays on the radio or saying something off the wall to make me laugh, well — it’s safe to say I miss her.

  The rest of Friday night was...awkward. She definitely maintained a safe distance from me, but I can’t really blame her, I’m sure my asshole move of kissing her, followed by the even more asshole move of pushing her away and leaving her at her most vulnerable had quite a bit to do with it. Or it could have been the mind-crippling lecture she received from Sadie when she showed up with Daniel at my house, regarding her need to stay away from the male population — the entire male population, including me.

  It was at that time that I decided to remind Sadie gently that Tatum would, in fact, be staying with me for the night because there was no way in hell I was letting her out of my sight. Okay, so it wasn’t as gentle as it could have been, but seeing as though I just beat the shit out of some fucktard for hitting a girl that I’ve come to care about, it was pretty tame in comparison. Needless to say, Sadie left unhappily and I smiled as I showed her to the door. Work at the bar tonight should be interesting.

  From that point on, Tatum was pretty quiet. She did insist that I ice my right hand and I, in turn, insisted that she ice her left eye, so together we sat at my bar in silence, condensation from the plastic bags leaking all over the place. After a while, she started doodling in the pools of water, avoiding eye contact with me as she drew. Three hearts and two flowers later, she finally found the courage to ask what I knew she wanted to ask me since her eyes landed on my hand in the bedroom.

  “What did you do to Cash?”

  “Nothing he didn’t do to you. I simply repaid him for his favor. Multiple times.”

  That was about the limit of our conversation for the rest of the evening. She went to bed soon after, and I took the couch, making sure to call Daniel and set up arrangements to get her car to the shop in the morning. After a useless attempt at sleep, I was already awake when he stopped by. Together, we went to get Tatum’s car from Cash’s, where we found his truck back in his driveway. After much internal deliberation, I decided to leave it alone, even though every fiber of my being wanted to storm back in there and pick up where I left off.

  We took the Civic to Daniel’s uncle’s garage, where they replaced the alternator and suggested that I stop dumping money into the piece of shit and just tell her to get a new car.

  Yeah, no shit.

  Daniel left from there and I brought the car back to my house to find Tatum awake, drinking coffee in my clothes, which was sexy as hell. I still can’t get the image out of my mind. After thanking me and promising to pay me back, she gave me a friendly side-hug and a pat on the back before bolting and heading to her mother’s house where she was meeting Sadie.

  A fucking side-hug. And a you’ve-been-friend-zoned pat on the back.

  I get it. I do. I deserve it.

  But, shit. Really?

  I really don’t know why it bothers me so much. It’s what I wanted, right? Right?

  Well, this question plagued me all week which brings me to now, five days since I’ve seen her, when I hear the familiar click of Tatum’s engine as her car pulls up outside. Another thing I was discouraged from fixing.

  Placing the brush down in the pan, I wipe my hands on my jeans and walk to the front door. As I open it, I catch sight of her bending over to get something out of her passenger seat, clad in her signature jean shorts and boots. The ones that give me a great barely-there view of her ass as she leans over even further.

  Fucking side-hug.

  Placing my arm on the doorjamb, I lean into it as she closes the door and turns in my direction, surprise marking her face when she sees me. I can’t help but smile as she approaches, holding a book in her hand. Well, I hope she plans on reading while she’s here because she sure as shit isn’t working.

  “Long time, no see,” I say, moving aside so she can come in. I breathe an inward sigh of relief seeing that her face looks noticeably better. Her gashes are completely healed and her eye, although still a little puffy, is marked with only faded yellow bruises. You probably wouldn’t be able to tell anything even happened to her if she were wearing make-up.

  “Yeah, well,” she passes by me, “I was re-evaluating my life all week. And you know what I figured out?” She stops in the middle of the living room and turns in my direction, sheepish smile on her lips.

  “No,” I say, wearing a huge grin as I close the door. I can’t help it. “Enlighten me, please.”

  “Well, I have come to the conclusion that I am an evil, thoughtless snoop. So, I’ve brought you one of my many journals, for you to read, as a peace offering. You can now know some of my deepest and most intimate thoughts, since I so carelessly invaded yours.”

  Standing there, I stare at her standing in front of me, holding probably the biggest puzzle piece in figuring her out. Something I’ve wanted to do since the first time we crossed paths. And she offers it to me with absolutely no reservation. Lightheartedly, even.

  It’s not often that someone offers you their soul served up on a silver platter with a smile on their face. I’m starting to question the effect that Friday night had on her mentally and have a strong suspicion she’s closing in on another breakdown because I happen to know from recent experience that there’s only so much pain you can harbor until you hit your breaking point.

  “Tate, while I appreciate the gesture, I’m not reading your journal. Yes, you read a small sample of my music, but that’s nothing compared to this book. That’s like opening your entire life to me, and I wouldn’t feel right reading that. That actually is an invasion of privacy.”

  The smile disappears from her face as she holds the journal out, practically forcing it into my grasp.

  “Please, take it, Noah. I need you to. You have no idea how much your words, when I read them, touched my soul. To know that someone out there feels the same pain, the heartache…well, it makes me feel not so alone. I’m not asking you to invade my privacy. I’m asking you to provide me solace in knowing that someone knows me, really knows me.”

  She let out a weary sigh. “I’m fucked up, Noah, that’s no secret. But the knowledge that someone actually understands the things I’ve lived through…well, it makes me feel less abandoned, I guess. It’s hard to explain.”

  We stare at eac
h other for a couple of seconds before she adds, “Read it. Please.”

  Hesitantly, I begin to take it, but she whips the journal out of my reach, holding it behind her back.

  “But, I have to ask you one question before I hand it off. Something that I just need to know, for myself.” A devious smirk replaces her previously somber expression.

  I narrow my eyes in response, trying to figure out where she’s going with all of this. Her mood fluctuations are giving me whiplash.

  One question. Well, it seems harmless. But, so do praying mantises and we all know what happens to the males where they’re involved.

  “Okaaaaay,” I’m unsure about her motives, but then just as suspected, she goes in for the kill.

  “Do you even want to go to med school?”

  With that one question, the world slows and my heart drops straight to my feet. I can feel the blood draining from my face as I try to rebound the answer successfully.

  “Yes.”

  She narrows her gaze, peering deeply into my eyes, and then shakes her head as she responds, “No, you don’t, Noah. Your passion is in your music. That’s what drives you, am I right?” She watches me for a second. “That’s what I thought.”

  I try to rein in my defensiveness, but my response is clipped.

  “You don’t know me.”

  The corners of her mouth dip down, and she shrugs her shoulders.

  “I know you more than you think I do. In fact, I think we’re actually quite similar and after you read, you’ll see it too. Different situations, but it’s obvious to me that we both live our lives according to someone else’s plan. Dead or living.”

  She releases her hold on her journal, leaving it in my hands and heads towards the door. She slows, placing her fingers on the knob before looking down at the newly carpeted floor.

  “You know, I thought you were the one judging me, but it turns out, I was judging you too. And I’m sorry for that. I really am, Noah.”