A Heart to Heal

by Synithia Williams

  Tyrell held up his hands. “It’s cool, man. He won’t bother her anymore.”

  “Why, because you came in and saved the day?” Devin said with a sneer.

  Tyrell shook his head. “No, Shayla had the situation under control.” Shayla met his eye over Devin’s shoulder. Her relief that he understood not to mention that things were getting out of hand was almost palpable. Tyrell continued, “When I came in, Shayla was slapping him around. He said it wasn’t worth it and left. I only put my arms around her because she was crying. Trust me. I’m not trying to overstep my bounds. Anyone with eyes can tell she loves you.”

  Some of the tension left Devin’s shoulders. He pulled her against his side. His hand once again began its gentle massage of the knots at the base of her neck. “Thank you for helping her.”

  Tyrell shrugged. “Just helping out a friend.”

  Shayla smiled at Tyrell before looking up at Devin. “Can we go?”

  He sighed. “The festival should be winding down.” He looked at his watch. “It’s almost nine. Let’s see if we can slip out early.”

  “I’ll go wrap up my area,” Tyrell said and left.

  No sooner than the door closed did Devin turn toward her. The frustration in his eyes apparent. “Is that all that happened?”

  Shayla held up her right hand. “I swear. He helped me with Tony. Then I started crying and he was only offering comfort. I don’t want him, Devin. I love you.”

  Devin sighed and shook his head. “How do you always end up in these situations? It’s as if trouble follows you.”

  He gave her a small smile, but it didn’t soften the blow his words inflicted. It was happening already. First, the flinch at being referred to as her boyfriend. Now, the complaints about trouble surrounding her like gnats at a cookout. He was already getting tired of her.

  He held out his hand for her to take. They didn’t speak as they excited into the cool night air. Reverend Jenkins was on the stage telling everyone the festival was coming to a close and thanking them for coming. Devin’s hand dropped from hers as they walked closer. He didn’t touch her, just kept the frown on his face.

  “I especially want to thank Shayla Monroe. We wouldn’t have been able to pull this together without her dedication and support. She is a true asset to the community and I appreciate her efforts,” Reverend Jenkins said. He clapped his hands and a few seconds later the rest of the crowd joined in.

  Reverend Jenkins’ thanks, coupled with everything else that happened that night, brought a fresh wave of tears to her eyes. Reverend Jenkins was one of the most respected men in Helena. By giving her his stamp of approval in front of the entire town, there would be few who would outright ostracize her. With just a few words he’d told everyone to back off.

  Within minutes, several people came up to tell her what a good job she’d done and how great the festival was. She blinked back the tears and called on her years of hiding her emotions to smile and accept the congratulations from the same people who’d whispered about her behind their hands when she first arrived.

  Devin excused himself to help pack things up in the health screening area. He didn’t meet her eyes, and although he squeezed her shoulder and kissed her cheek before going away his actions were aloof. She dreaded the ride back to his place and the awkward “it’s me, not you” speech.

  She looked up from the last person who gave her another over exuberant congratulations just as her mom approached. Her mom’s full lips were twisted in a scowl that could only be fiercer if she were sucking on lemons. Taking a deep breath Shayla prepared herself for whatever was coming, even though her battered emotions couldn’t take much more.

  Marcella stopped before her and shuffled her feet. She stuffed her hands into the oversized coat she was wearing before letting out a loud breath. “Good job on the festival.”

  Shayla blinked several times. “Um … thanks.”

  Marcella looked across the parking lot at the health screen tent. “You and Devin. Kia told me she gave you her blessing. I won’t say anymore to you about him except don’t hurt him again. He’s a nice man.”

  Shayla sighed. “I love him … always have. And that night I supposedly hurt him was because Tony drugged my drink and had sex with me after I passed out.”

  The surprise on her mom’s face would have made her feel better if she thought it would make a difference.

  “I had no idea.”

  “No, and you never asked what happened. You just slapped me, called me a whore like my daddy, and walked away.”

  Her mom’s face hardened and she straightened her shoulders. “What was I supposed to do? Everyone in town said — ”

  “Everyone in town believed that I was loose because you always said it. But you know what, it doesn’t matter. It was a long time ago. I’m over it. Devin knows and he’s over it. I’m done. Done waiting on your approval and love. Done.”

  She walked away from her mom who stood there with her mouth gaping open. She looked at the sky and took a deep breath. She no longer craved her mom’s approval. It would never come. After years of living with regrets and self loathing she was ready to let go of the old feelings that plagued her. Easier said than done maybe, but now that she had a job she’d look for a shrink.

  She looked around at the dispersing crowd, the exhibitors packing up their tents, and the committee and volunteers breaking things down. She should help. Clean up would be more than usual because the festival was so large, and she was the reason for that. But right now she wanted to go home — except she didn’t have a home. She had a place she rented and one side of the bed in Devin’s house.

  Tears welled in her eyes again. She was a mess. Nowhere to go. Devin’s behavior after the scene with Tyrell and Tony made it obvious that he was rethinking their relationship. This time she wasn’t sure if she could let him go without losing a piece of herself.

  Strong arms encircled her shoulders. The warmth from Devin’s body surrounded her and his scent infused her as he leaned over to kiss her forehead. “Let’s go.”

  “But the break down … ”

  “I spoke with Reverend Jenkins, he said they’re good. I’m taking you home.”

  It’s not my home, it’s your home, she thought as he led her to his truck. They didn’t speak as he drove. His silence grated her nerves. She’d rather he get it over with than prolong it. She closed her eyes and rested her head on the back of the seat. Mentally, she went through her very grown up response she’d have to make when he ended things. No need to be a complete basket case.

  The truck made a sharp jerk to the side. Shayla’s eyes popped open. She jumped in the seat. Before she could ask what was wrong, Devin was out the door and running around the side of the truck. Tony and Peaches were walking down the street together, probably on the way to Peaches house which was close to the church.

  “Oh, shit,” Shayla breathed when Devin grabbed Tony, swung him around, and punched him.

  Shayla jumped out the car and rushed over. She tried to pull Devin off, but he brushed her aside. He took a handful of Tony’s shirt and punched him again. When Tony fell to the ground, Devin kicked him. There were gasps from the few people who were also walking home that night. So much for not causing a scene tonight.

  Shayla grabbed Devin’s arm. “Stop it! It’s over.”

  Her jerked out of her grasped, but thankfully took a step back. Peaches slowly walked forward. She froze when Devin glared at her. “You gave her the drink with the stuff in it?”

  Peaches looked warily between the two. Shayla couldn’t help it, her fist curled up with the need to enact her own revenge.

  “It was supposed to be a joke,” Peaches said. “He was only going to get in bed with her. Make you think they … you know. It went too far, alright.”

  Shayla went for Peaches, but Devin grabbed her arm. “G
et in the truck.”

  She turned to him. “You get to hit Tony, but I can’t hit her?”

  “You’ve got into enough trouble tonight,” he glared at Peaches. “Either of you say one word to me or Shayla, you’ll regret it.”

  Peaches scowled. “You two can have each other.”

  Devin looked down to where Tony groaned on the ground. “Likewise.” He tugged Shayla’s arm. “Get in the truck.”

  With a glare, she turned her back on Peaches and Tony. Devin remained silent on the short drive to his home, and as they entered the house. She went directly into the living room and sat on his sofa. He stopped at the door and leaned against the jam. They stared at each other. Her heart beat so hard she’d be surprised if he didn’t hear it. Devin had never lost his cool, but he’d fought Tony twice because of her. Both times in front of people and this time there would be no doubt it was because of her. She loved him even more for defending her.

  After a few minutes, he walked to her, his steps slow and measured. The light in the room reflected off his high cheekbones, enhancing the frown on his face. “I don’t like being called your boyfriend.”

  Inside she screamed, but she swallowed it. It wasn’t as if this wasn’t what she expected. But the pain was fierce. She took in a shaky breath and tried for an unaffected smile. “I gathered that much. I can pack my stuff and go.”

  He took a step back, his eyes widened. “I don’t want you to go.”

  She frowned. “I’m confused.”

  “Shayla, I just beat up a guy in the middle of the street to defend your honor. I bought a house on Johnston Street because you once said you wanted to live here. I want you to stay here … forever.” He spoke the last word softly.

  She swallowed hard as her heart raced. “I’m still confused.”

  He lowered himself onto the couch beside her and took a deep breath. “I know you hate Helena and you just got the job in Columbia. I know you’re used to a more fast paced life and you like excitement and parties. I know that trouble follows you around and most of the time it’s not your fault. But even though I know all that I still want you to … consider staying here. With me.” When his eyes met her they were filled with determination and love. “As my wife.”

  It was the last thing she expected. In all of her wildest romantic fantasies she never even allowed herself to think he’d bring up marriage. Sure, sleep together off and on for awhile. Go out occasionally. Maybe even spend the weekend with him, but marry?

  “You can’t be serious. I thought you were breaking up with me.”

  A humorless laugh escaped his lips. “You would think that. Why would I?”

  “Because drama follows me everywhere. You constantly have to defend my honor. That reporter’s probably going to write a story about what he saw tonight. The town thinks I’m a whore. I had an affair with a married man. I hurt you … so badly … in high school. I don’t deserve you.” Her hand gripped the heart at her neck while her toe tapped frantically on the floor.

  He reached over and pulled her hand away from the charm. She placed her hands over his swollen knuckles, before lifting them to her lips for a soft kiss. He cupped her face with his other hand. “Let it go. Stop trying to convince me that I don’t want you. Yes, you drive me crazy, but Shayla I haven’t loved another woman since the first time you braided my hair in high school. Even when you were away, I thought about you. A piece of my heart’s been missing for years and ever since you came back its felt whole.”

  Her eyes flew up to meet his. “My heart’s been broken since that night I hurt you.”

  A fierce scowl came over his features. “It wasn’t your fault. And believe me, if Tony so much as looks at you wrong, I’m going to kick his ass again.”

  She shook her head. “Forget about Tony. Please, let’s not let him affect our lives anymore.”

  He nodded, but the look in his eye didn’t convince her that he would keep his word. “I love you and if it hasn’t gone away after years of separation, I don’t see how it could possibly go away now. Let me love you. Let me be the one man to show you every day how wonderful you really are.”

  She grabbed his wrists and pulled his hands away. Excitement set her nerve endings on fire, but he had to understand what he was asking. “I don’t make up my bed. I keep my room a mess, I hate cooking. You’ll get tired of me.”

  He pulled her close. His full lips brushed against hers. “As if you’d let me. You’ll keep me on my toes until we’re ninety. Trust me. I want to marry you.” He cleared his throat, uncertainty clouding his eyes. “Do you think you could marry me?”

  She took a deep breath and met his gaze. Even in the dim light, the fierceness of his love blazed. She looked for any signs of doubt. Any indication that he was unsure of what he was saying or may regret it in the morning. All she saw was love … and honesty, the same honesty that was the cement of their relationship.

  “Yes. I want to marry you.”

  He grinned. When he pulled her in for another kiss, she wrapped her arms tightly around his neck. She wanted to hold him forever. Let him know that there was no other man for her. Her past was filled with mistakes as she tried to find a guy who made her feel a smidgeon of the way Devin did. It took coming home and facing her demons to learn that no man would ever come close to comparing to him.

  When they broke she couldn’t help but laugh and smile. “You’ve asked me, so you can’t get rid of me. I’ve wanted you since I was fifteen. I’m not letting you go.”

  “Is that a threat?” he said with a sexy lift of his lips.

  Her heart flipped in her chest. It was bruised, had gone through a fair share of heartbreaks, but something told her she was on the road to healing. With a smile, she sank her fingers in his hair and pulled him close. “It’s a promise.”

  About the Author

  Synithia Williams has loved romance novels since reading her first one at the age of thirteen. It was only natural that she would begin penning her own romances soon after. It wasn’t until 2010 that she began to actively pursue her dream of becoming a published author. Her first novel, You Can’t Plan Love, was published by Crimson Romance in August 2012. When she isn’t writing, this Green Queen, as dubbed by the State Newspaper, works to improve air and water quality, while balancing the needs of her husband and two sons. You can find Synithia, online at www.synithiawilliams.com, on Facebook (www.facebook.com/synithiarwilliams), or Twitter (www.twitter.com/SynithiaW).

  A Sneak Peek From Crimson Romance

  (From If The Shoe Fits by Amber T. Smith)

  Eleanor Gibson woke up to the persistent meowing of her cat. She groaned and buried herself a little deeper beneath the duvet, gently kicking her feline companion away from her.

  “Muse, go away. I’ll feed you in a minute.”

  Of course, telling her cat to go away wouldn’t work — it never did — but at least it gave Eleanor a few extra seconds of warmth. Or so she thought. A sharp digging sensation in the middle of Eleanor’s back was all it took to end those precious few seconds of comfort. Grumbling under her breath, Eleanor threw the duvet into a messy heap on the floor and stood up, stretching and yawning as she did so.

  “You could have left me a few moments longer, Muse. You know I had a rough night last night.”

  Muse pricked her ears and walked away with her tail in the air.

  “It’s all right for you,” continued Eleanor. “You don’t have to speak to my visitors.”

  The previous evening had seen the (unwanted) weekly visit from her ex-stepmother. Christie Gibson was, in two words, a bitch. She had crawled into Teddy Gibson’s life six months after Eleanor’s mother had died, and it had taken three years to get rid of her. Teddy woke up one day about three months after his hasty second marriage, and realized that he had married, well, a bitch. Luckily, Eleanor had been able lend support to her somewhat di
thering father and, by sending him away on a month-long cruise, had finally been able to persuade Christie to sign the divorce papers.

  Well, maybe persuade was the wrong choice of word, but Eleanor had run out of reasonable ideas, so the rather strong coercion technique that she had used was, in her opinion, justified.

  The trouble was, Christie was still angry, and she chose to vent this anger by calling upon her ex-stepdaughter every Monday.

  “You owe me, Eleanor Gibson, and never forget it!”

  Christie’s words came back and replayed themselves once again. If it wasn’t so annoying, Eleanor would be tempted to laugh. Christie had been uttering the same thing every week for the last eighteen months. At first it had been a little bit daunting, but now it was bordering on hysterical. Maybe she should feel guilty for claiming that her father had a terminal disease and had already signed over his monies and estate to his daughter. Maybe. But honestly, the look of horror on her ex-stepmother’s face — when she realized she could be stuck with an increasingly dependent husband with no reward at the end of it — was enough to wave away any feelings of shame that Eleanor might have felt. Christie Gibson was more than a bitch, she was a …

  “Meow!”

  “All right, all right, I’m coming!”

  Eleanor tried to act cross, but honestly, Muse’s timely interruption was just what she needed. If she started the day cursing Christie, she wouldn’t get anywhere at all. And …

  “Oh crap!” she suddenly cried. “Photo shoot at 9 A.M.! Jake’ll kill me!”

  Hastily emptying half a box of cat biscuits into Muse’s dish, Eleanor dashed upstairs and headed for the shower.

  • • •

  Eleanor quickly ran for the elevator as soon as she reached the offices of Cardiff Mode. She loved working for a modeling agency, even though she knew that half the time she was simply the errand girl. There was something about the glamour that attracted her. Normally, Eleanor was a very practical young woman, but the world of modeling had always fascinated her.