Twisted Hearts: The Complete Duet

by Max Henry

  She promptly heads for the chair and sits on the opposite side to me.

  “I can’t promise that,” I say softly. “I’m artistic; it’s in my nature to doubt myself.” I round the seat, dodging our daughter, and step toe-to-toe with him. “I will promise, though, that we will make your dream a reality next.”

  “Don’t.” He shakes his head, black locks sliding free of his shoulder and curtaining his face.

  I reach up and tuck them behind his ear, then running my fingertips down his stubbled jaw. “You’ve never given up on me,” I say. “What makes you think I’d ever give up on you?”

  “Dove.” The pain slashes across his face. “Just focus on this for now, okay?”

  I relent, sighing as I slide my hands around his thick waist and band my hands on his lower back. He reciprocates, pulling me against his hard body.

  Even the loud “Ma” cry from Sera as she explores the room isn’t enough to pull me from this moment.

  I realise, as I stand there familiarising myself with his dips and swells all over again, that it’s been far too long since I just held Zeus. Since we did nothing but enjoy what we have: each other.

  I don’t want the time between to stretch on like that ever again. I made a promise to be with this man forever, and I plan to not only keep it but honour it.

  “As much as I love this,” he rumbles above me, “you probably need to check dinner.”

  Fuck it. I tug myself away from Zeus and turn for the door. He catches me by the elbow, and I barely have time to note Sera heading for the opening before Zeus’s mouth crashes over mine. With a firm palm splayed against my cheek, he sweeps his tongue slowly across mine, once, twice, parting with an unspoken promise to continue this later.

  “I may get mad at times, dove, but don’t you ever doubt how much I love you.”

  I wish I could say that I don’t, but when you care so deeply for something or someone, it’s only natural to believe that it must be too good to last.

  “This is a new leaf for us, babe,” I say instead. “It won’t be long, and we would have already forgotten how shit these past months have been.”

  His eyes don’t carry the same sincerity as his words. “I know.” With a pat on my arse, he turns me for the door. “Go check dinner and I’ll round up the rascal.”

  I believe it to my core—this is our turning point, our fork in the road. I know that come hell or high water, I’ll make this business work because there’s nothing else I’d rather do.

  What I don’t know, though, is how long it will be before Zeus comes around and stops seeing this as a competition between us. This isn’t just my career. This is our future.

  I’m prepared to sacrifice plenty of things to get this studio humming. But what I won’t sacrifice is us.

  EIGHTEEN

  Zeus

  We agreed to meet on neutral ground.

  Bells go off in the gaming room as some mug wins himself enough back to buy his next round. The woman behind the bar looks as though she’s on her third shift straight, the light long extinguished from her eyes as she pours another tap beer for the guy on my right.

  To the left, a group of five young tradies strut around the open pool table, drawing attention to themselves as though anybody gives a shit.

  There’s a reason why I don’t come to the pub much anymore, and it’s not having a woman and child waiting at home for me. It’s the excessive amounts of testosterone that flow as freely as the drinks across the bar.

  An invitation for trouble. An excuse for a guy such as me to find a little stress relief.

  I pop another pastille of gum in my mouth and bite down hard, aiming to get some respite from the crack of the hard shell. Nope. Nada.

  My hard stare sits trained on the cockiest of the group, shoving his friends around to prove he’s the alpha in the pack. I consider my options, check how many pieces of gum I have left, and expel a loaded breath when my saving grace arrives.

  Or should I say my distraction? I wouldn’t give the arsehole that much credit—it’d probably go straight to his already over-inflated head.

  “Zeus.”

  “Eric.” I don’t bother to shift my elbows off the bar or turn to address him.

  He settles on the stool beside mine and orders a drink. Bourbon on the rocks. Still the same.

  “Can’t say I thought I’d see the day when you’d be back in my yard,” he states, staring straight ahead.

  I glare down at the half-drunk dark ale in my hand. “That makes two of us.”

  “How many hours you need, then?” He empties his pockets onto the bar for comfort: fat wallet, smokes, and keys.

  I guess he can’t shake all of his vices.

  “Whatever you have spare outside of my regular.”

  “Five until two, right?”

  “Jodie been saying a bit then?” I say casually before taking a limp-wristed swig of my beer.

  “You know her better than I do,” he bites back.

  I snort. “Oh, I don’t think so, mate.” Otherwise, I would have known she was fucking him behind my back.

  “I can give you three until seven, Monday to Thursday.”

  “Taken.”

  Eric slowly turns to face me. He rests a shirt-clad elbow on the bar. “Just so we’re clear.” Here it comes. “You have Jodie to thank for my generosity. If it were up to me, I would have laughed in your goddamn face.”

  I match his stance, an inch on height over him and a darn sight more intimidating in a tank top, my overalls rolled down to my waist. “I still can’t figure out what your issue with me is.” I lean in close for dramatic effect. “After all, man, you were the one who fucked my wife while I was in prison. If anyone should be holding a grudge, don’t you think it should be me?”

  He flinches yet holds his ground. Guy earns half a point in respect. Still miles off sliding back into my good books, though.

  “Don’t push it, Meyers.” He slings my surname like a curse word as he turns, drains his drink, and collects his things. “Twelve hours a week.” Eric stands, sliding the possessions back in his pockets before he adds, “At apprentice rates.”

  Cunt.

  NINETEEN

  Belle

  The first night, I figured he hung back to talk with the guys. The second, I wondered if he got held up in traffic. By the fourth night without Zeus at home for dinner, I straight up asked him where he was.

  “Working,” was the only response I got.

  So, I drove past the Anderson and McConnell yard with Sera tucked up in the back seat to confirm my suspicions. So, sue me. The yard sat darker than a new moon without a single sign of life.

  And yet, Zeus still wasn’t home.

  I caved, opening the tracking app on our phones to see where he was only to find his location switched off.

  Now, there comes a point in a woman’s mind when all rationality flies out the window, and she’ll assume the worst. Most women wait until they find hard evidence—a message to an unknown number, different perfume, or articles of clothing that most definitely aren’t hers.

  I blame my premature lapse of confidence on three things. One, I have a child at home that, as much as I’d like to say it hasn’t, leaves me looking less than stellar at the end of a long day. Two, I’ve had this happen to me before, which has left me touchy on the subject. And three, life has been less than pleasant for us lately.

  I couldn’t blame the guy for wanting to find happiness elsewhere. Lord knows, there are days I fantasise about what it was like not so long ago to be unshackled and carefree.

  You don’t know tired until you’re bone-weary nodding off in your cornflakes of a morning.

  Wrist-deep in his clothes drawers, I snap out of my manic fever and realise just how ridiculous I’m being. Sera is in bed—half an hour early. I haven’t eaten, and here I am riffling through my other half’s things in the hopes of what? Finding something that’ll break my heart?

  I flop on the end of the bed; hands slung limpl
y between my knees. Is it better to know, or maintain a level of ignorance? I should know after my experience with Damien. But then again, I always knew with him, deep down, didn’t I?

  Time passes, an irrelevant fact as I sit and stare at our floor, replaying everything I’ve done, everything we’ve said the past year. Could I have acted differently? Do I have a legitimate reason to be worried?

  I lunge from the mattress and latch on to the nearest thing of his I can find—a T-shirt he wore under his work clothes yesterday. Bringing the cotton to my nose, I inhale deeply, only to find the musty smell of sweat and muted undertones of his deodorant.

  What the fuck are you doing, Belle?

  I’ve lost the goddamn plot. I’d know if Zeus was unfaithful.

  As though staging an intervention, the Universe decides now would be the opportune time for him to arrive home. I drop the T-shirt back in the laundry pile as he kills the bike outside the garage and then check the time. Seven-fifteen. I’d been in a daze looking for justification on why he’d cheat on me for over an hour.

  The garage door rolls up, ready for him to push the bike inside, so he doesn’t wake Sera. I duck into our adjoining bathroom and check myself, straightening my wayward strands of hair and tucking one side of my baggy T-shirt in so that my waist is showcased.

  He emerges through the internal door at the same time as I step out into the hallway. We hesitate, each frozen as we stare the other down.

  He moves his mouth as though to say something and then glances toward Sera’s half-shut door.

  Hand to my shoulder, Zeus pushes me back inside our room and kicks the door closed. I rub the spot where he touched me, wondering what the hell has him in such a mood.

  “Where the hell have you been?” I ask at the same time as he says, “I don’t want to drive diggers the rest of my life.”

  “What?” I tip my head, unsure I heard him right.

  “Huh?” He frowns. “You first.”

  “No.” I stamp my hands on my hips. “What did you just say?”

  He sighs, running a hand over his head as he steps over to set his helmet on our drawers. “I don’t want to drive machinery until I retire, dove.” He jerks the band from his hair, letting it fall free around his shoulders. “The tippers got stuck on the ring road this afternoon after there was an accident on the motorway, and we ended up waiting an hour before they got through the backlog.”

  I swivel on the spot, following him as he moves around the room, shedding his work clothes and pulling on sweats.

  “I had time to think while we waited, and I realised there’s a big difference between what you do and what I wanted to.”

  “Well, yeah.” No duh. I draw on people, and he digs holes in the ground: chalk and cheese.

  Zeus smirks on his way past to wash his face and hands in the bathroom. “You love what you do, dove.” He eyes me in the reflection of the mirror. “Setting up the studio shows that you don’t care where you do your art, as long as you can.”

  “I still don’t get where you’re going with this.”

  He sighs, shoulders slumping as he hangs his head. “I wanted to start my contracting gig because that’s what I know. It’s what I’m good at.”

  “And?” I still don’t get how this came around to what he stated when he stepped in the room.

  “And that’s it.” Zeus turns, leaning back on the counter and holding his weight with his hands braced on the edge. “Tell me this. When you’re at work, time flies, right? You lose track of how long you’ve been at it.”

  “I guess.” I shrug one shoulder, using the motion to mask how intently I was checking out his corded arms.

  “Because you love it.” He chews his bottom lip a second before continuing. “When I’m at work, I count down the hours until I get my lunch break, and then I count down the hours until I go home. I don’t lose myself in it. If anything, I lose myself in you.” He steps forward. “Thinking of you.”

  His hands find the hem of the shirt when he reaches me, pulling the fabric free of my jeans.

  “So …”

  “So,” I mimic.

  His lips curl in a devilish grin. “I’ll keep doing what I am until you’re comfortable enough to take over while I retrain.” Zeus quietly undresses me as he speaks, removing my T-shirt with reverent care. “If that takes a year, three, or ten—whatever.”

  “What will you retrain for?” I lift my arms, assisting his plight.

  He tosses the top aside, pausing to run his eye across the swell of my breasts. “Not sure yet.” Strong hands find the clasp of my bra, flicking the ends apart. “I’ve got a few ideas.” He edges the straps off my shoulders. “But I’m in no hurry to figure it out.”

  The lingerie falls to the floor, giving him licence to start on my jeans.

  “Why the sudden revelation?” I ask as he unbuttons the clasp. “I mean you were so upset at the idea of missing out on starting a contracting business a few weeks ago.”

  He slides the zipper down; eyes fixed on mine. “I still am. But it’s the opportunity to work for myself that I want, not the job digging channels and dozing surfaces.”

  I tug the bottom of his tank top, letting the fabric pop over his torso. “If you could do anything in the world.” I slide my jeans over my hips while he sheds his tank. “What would it be?”

  Zeus drops a deep huff. “You know that.”

  “Cars.”

  He nods, pushing the denim down my thighs, then using his foot to get them to my ankles.

  I step free while he keeps his weight on them.

  “Just don’t know if I want to build them or fix them.” He sends my panties in the same direction.

  “Isn’t that the same thing?” I tease.

  Rough hands find my waist, and he lifts me clean off the floor. I reserve my squeal, not to disturb Sera when my back hits the bed.

  “You know it isn’t.” Zeus joins me on the bed, prowling his half-dressed body over top of mine.

  I can’t say I complain when he looks that good in a pair of old sweats and nothing else.

  “You’re still dressed.”

  “You better fix that,” he taunts.

  I’ve missed this. Us. Teasing and playing.

  No tension. No unspoken grievances. Just love.

  “We should do this more often,” I jest.

  His lips dip to my collarbone. “I agree.” Butterflies tickle my flesh, searching and eager. “I don’t see you naked nearly as much as I should anymore.”

  “Not sex.” I swat at his shoulder. “I mean, being honest.”

  Zeus pulls back, his brow furrowed. “Am I not?”

  I grab hold of his hair in both hands, using the lengths tat fall over each shoulder like handles as I tug his face inches from mine. “Where were you tonight?”

  His gaze hoods. “Work.”

  I have him wrapped around my little finger. He may be rough and tough, but my man loves it when I bend him to my will with a bit of pain.

  I fist his hair tighter, making him hiss. “Liar.”

  “I’m not.” He grimaces, yet his hardening length tells the truth.

  “You weren’t at the yard. There were no lights on.”

  His eyes shoot open, and to my surprise, he jerks back, using my grip in his hair to pull me up too. “How would you know that?”

  I slide my fists free, opting to rake my nails down his thick arms instead. “I drove past.”

  Most men would be frustrated at their missus spying on them. But not mine.

  Zeus grins, his eyes alive. “Did you now?” One eyebrow lifts. “Why would you do that, dove?”

  I’m jolted onto his lap, secured by his firm hands against my lower back. “You’re gone late every night with no proper explanation.”

  “You want me to tell you where I’ve been?” One hand moves to my jaw, his thumb tracing a path across my bottom lip.

  I nod, jerking forward to bite the tip.

  His pupils flare, irises darkening. “I’ve
been doing extra hours for Eric.”

  “Really?” I’m completely thrown, wide-eyed and shocked.

  Of all the answers he’d give, I didn’t think working for the guy who ruined his marriage would be it.

  “Why?”

  Chin high, he peers out at me from beneath his lashes. “You.”

  “I don’t get it.”

  “I want everything you earn from that studio to be poured back into it, dove. This is your dream, your baby to nurture. And if I’m going to give you the best chance at that, I need to earn enough to cover the house expenses without your input.”

  I’ve never wanted to fuck his brains out more than I do now.

  His belief in me is what fuels my fire.

  “Babe.” I wrap my palm around his nape and destroy the distance between us.

  Our kiss unearths the passion we’d buried these past weeks under misunderstandings and half-truths. Zeus’s fingertips bruise my flesh, my elbows smashed against his chest as I try in vain to match every inch of our exposed bodies.

  I fell in love with him at a time when Zeus being my protector was what I craved. I relished the way his massive body against my small one made me feel cherished, fragile, and special.

  But now. As he rolls to his back and lets me take charge, I realise that there’s no shame in flipping the tables.

  At times he’ll need me to be there for him, to give him strength while he figures things out for himself.

  And I’ll be there to do that whenever he needs me to.

  I’d do anything for this man.

  Anything and more.

  Because that’s what relationships are about; the give and take. The push and pull.

  The trust and the fall.

  In and out of love, but always, always back to love.

  Thank you for reading the conclusion to Belle and Zeus’s story!

  I hope you enjoyed their tale of love against the odds as much as I enjoyed writing it.

  If I could ask one wee favour now that you’re done?

  Please take just a couple of minutes to leave a review on Amazon using the handy pop-up form they provide at the end of the book. It doesn’t have to be long: one or two sentences with a star rating is perfect.