Easy. Right.
Meanwhile, I’m dealing with Heath, who’s anything but easy. But I just can’t let it go. What did I do to make him hate me so much? And, more importantly, why do I care?
Because you need everyone to like you.
Oh, yeah, that.
“Dinner’s ready, Lee. When will Eli be here?”
“I’m sure any minute, Mom. At this time of day it’ll take him over an hour to get here.”
Just then, I hear the front door open.
“Hey! Sorry we’re late. Traffic was crap.”
We?
I step out from the kitchen to see Eli heading my way while Heath stays put at the door, hands in his pockets and head turned away.
“No worries.”
Eli pulls me in for a hug as Heath remains frozen in place.
Here we go. Commence Operation Kill Him with Kindness.
I give Heath my brightest smile before wrapping him in a short, loose hug. “Hey, Heath, glad you could come.”
He mumbles back nervous and shy, “Thank you.”
It’s a side of him I would have doubted even existed, but who cares? Because, here, in my foyer, with his chin down and his bangs hanging to his eyes in a poor attempt to hide, he’s actually kind of adorable.
My hand is loose around his bicep as I pull him toward the kitchen. “C’mon. I’ll introduce you to my mom and brother.”
A flash of something crosses his eyes, and for a second, I think he might actually be afraid.
“Mom, Con, I’d like you to meet Heath Braeburn. Heath, this is my mom, Madeline Dawson, and my brother, Connor.” I motion to my mom and then Connor.
I hide a deep exhale as I watch my mom offer her usual warm smile while Connor gives a silent head nod.
“Nice to meet you both. Thanks for having me.”
I direct him to the table and am surprised when he pulls out the chair next to mine. But, at the last second, he switches with Eli, and a small twinge of disappointment swirls in my belly.
Heath is quiet through most of dinner. Polite but quiet.
When I catch a glimpse of Connor giving him the death stare from across the table, I kick him in the shin. Lucky for him, I’m barefoot. He flinches anyway and turns his eyes to me, silently asking what that was for. As if he doesn’t know.
I mouth the words, Be nice, before taking a drink of my sweet tea.
His eyes narrow in defiance, and there’s no doubt I’m in trouble.
“So, Heath, I hear you just spent six months in rehab. What was that like?”
My fork clangs against my plate as my head whips to my mom, seated next to my brother, and my jaw drops in shock and disappointment because she’s the only one I’ve shared this information with.
“Connor!” my mom scolds.
“It’s all right, Mrs. Dawson. It’s no secret.” Heath pauses to push some food around on his plate.
I wish so badly he were sitting next to me, so I could give him some kind of reassurance. Instead, I lean forward, sending muted thoughts of apology and support.
He puts his fork down and clears his throat. “The last few years, I acted like an immature idiot. Pretty much all of college. And high school. So, I guess that’s more than a few.” He chuckles lightly. “And it’s just me and my dad. My mom left us when I was two, and Dad works a lot. Really, I think I was just acting out because I knew I could get away with it. And, because I’m an ass, I did it to see if I could get him to pay attention to me. And he did. My dad is awesome. It wasn’t the first time he dropped everything for me. But it took thirty grand in a treatment center for me to realize that.”
My eyes are glued to him, my heart breaking a little with each of his words.
He turns his attention solely on my mom. “I was there because my dad didn’t know how to help me get my shit together.”
Between his time in rehab and his use of a four-letter word in her home, I brace, waiting for my mom’s terse response.
She leans in and crosses her arms on the table, giving him her full attention in return.
Here it comes.
“So, do you have your shit together?” She stares him down, waiting for his answer.
Both Connor and I are still. We’ve never heard her swear. Never.
“Yes, ma’am. I have my shit together.” His words are firm, his tone unwavering
“Good.” She sits back in her chair. “Now, wait till you try my pecan pie. It’s the shit.” She gives Heath a wink as she stands from the table.
Connor is staring at me with his mouth hanging wide open as we simultaneously try to process the midlife crisis that has taken over our mom. Add to the fact that I just witnessed Heath’s soft side, and my head is spinning.
Heath
What the hell did I agree to?
Of all the idiotic things I’ve done—and there have been plenty of them—agreeing to dinner at Leah’s house with her family is currently ranking number one on my all-time top ten list.
Eli’s ramblings on everything related to the fabulous Dawson family only made the hour-long drive worse. Then, just when I thought I’d have a minute to get my nerves in check, Eli walked right in the house, like he’s one of the family. I, on the other hand, took as few steps in as possible. Just enough to close the door behind me.
I’m not like Eli. I don’t easily adjust to new surroundings. And, aside from Eli’s sisters, I don’t have female friends. This is all new and uncomfortable territory for me.
I didn’t move away the door until Leah came from around the corner, wearing a navy-blue tank top and white shorts. Short shorts.
Jesus, doesn’t she own anything else?
I willed my eyes away from her legs only to have her shoot me an incredible smile I felt low in my gut. Just when I thought the situation couldn’t get any worse, she wrapped her arms around me in a quick a hug. I barely got my arms around her in return, but it was enough to catch a soft floral scent from her long, wavy hair.
If it wasn’t for her delicate fingers around my bicep when she led me to the kitchen, I have no doubt I would have bolted for the door.
Although introductions and dinner were painless, it didn’t take a genius to see her brother did not like me.
To make matters worse, when I went to take the seat next to Leah, Eli nudged me to the next chair down, a silent reminder that I was the outsider here.
I stayed quiet during dinner, just answering the occasional question or adding something small to one of Eli’s stories. They all smiled and laughed their way through the meal, slowly drawing me in and making me feel like I might actually be a part of something. Until Connor opened his mouth.
Whether his purpose was to humiliate me or to protect his sister, I don’t know. But this is something my dad and I have talked about many times during rehab and since I’ve been home—owning your mistakes.
When Connor put me on the spot, my dad’s words recited clear in my head. “When you know better, you do better.”
It was time to put this strategy to good use.
I took a full breath and then answered honestly because I’m ready to be more than the guy who always slacks off. So, when I told Leah’s mom that, yes, I do have my shit together, I actually meant it. Although that doesn’t change the way I feel about Leah. If Eli wants to be friends with her, that’s his choice. I, on the other hand, find it more productive to spend my free time with girls who serve a purpose beside friendship. Girls like Laurie.
“Dinner was great,” I say as I hand my dishes to Leah at the sink.
She takes them with a smile before giving them a quick wash and placing them in the dishwasher. I lose myself for a minute, watching the swing of her hips as she bends, that I almost don’t hear Mrs. Dawson call my name from the next room.
I turn toward her voice and find her a few steps away in the living room.
“Heath, come here. Let me show you something.” Her back is to me as she motions toward a frame.
The picture inside,
older and slightly yellowed, is of a young Leah and Connor curled on each side of a small golden retriever, all three asleep in a large dog crate.
“After the kids’ dad passed, I bought them a puppy.” She leans in a little closer. “Word of advice: Bringing a puppy into your home when you’re dealing with a traumatic loss is not the best idea.”
I can’t even begin to imagine, so I just nod.
“But I don’t regret it for a minute. I would have cut off my own arm if that could’ve taken away an ounce of the pain my kids were feeling.” She turns from the picture to face me. “What I’m trying to say is, knowing what it’s been like for my kids to go through life without a dad, I have a pretty good idea of how hard it’s been for you to go through yours without a mom. Your dad sounds like he’s doing an amazing job, but if you ever need to talk, I’m willing to lend out my services. Despite what my own kids think, I actually know what I’m talking about.”
I don’t fight the laughter that escapes my chest. It feels too good.
Madeline Dawson is genuine and kind and now I know where Leah gets it from. When Leah held my eyes at dinner, the last of my nerves evaporated, replaced with the courage I needed to talk to these strangers about my mistakes. But here, after a home cooked meal and warm conversation, I realize, that’s no longer what they are.
“Thanks, Mrs. Dawson,” I say quietly.
And, for a minute, I let myself think about what it’d be like to have a mom who cared enough to stick around.
“Hey, have you decided if you’re going to look at condos tomorrow?” Eli asks.
We’re sitting in Leah’s family room, watching some boring movie that Leah and Eli bickered about for fifteen minutes before he gave in. I have a feeling that happens a lot between them.
“Who’s looking at condos?” Leah asks.
She’s curled up with a blanket at one end of the sofa while Eli sits at the opposite end, and I’m sitting in a chair off to the side.
Connor got frustrated and left during the movie selection, muttering something that sounded like, “Not again.”
“Heath is,” Eli answers.
“I love looking at real estate. Mind if I come along?”
I’m not prepared for this. At all.
If I were at home, in my own space—or even at Eli’s for that matter—I’d have no problem telling her that I neither need nor want her help. Then, I’d watch, waiting for the satisfying moment the hurt fills her eyes.
I keep my focus on the TV because I can’t do that here, in her house. Especially not after her mom was so nice.
“It’s true, dude. She’s always looking at magazines and websites about house stuff,” Eli confirms while staring at the screen. Some red-headed high schooler is making herself an awful pink prom dress after she got dumped by her boyfriend. I should’ve gotten out when I had the chance.
“Uh, yeah. Sure, I guess. It’ll be pretty boring though.” I shrug a shoulder, never once looking her way and stall a few extra seconds, hoping she’ll rescind her offer. But she doesn’t. “Be at my house by nine tomorrow morning.”
“Can’t wait,” she says with an enthusiasm that causes my pulse to unexpectedly race.
Tomorrow, it’ll be just me and Leah. Spending the day together. Alone.
I can totally handle this.
Who am I kidding?
“Do you have the address of the first place?” my dad asks before taking a sip of his coffee. He’s seated across from me at the kitchen table.
“Yeah, and Joan texted. She’ll meet us there.”
“Us?”
“Yeah, Leah is coming with me. Her idea,” I say indignantly.
“Isn’t she Eli’s girlfriend?”
“No, they’re just friends.” I almost say, just his other best friend, but stop myself before I sound like a total chick. That’s the last time I watch a movie with Leah. “She offered to come. I guess she likes this kind of shit.”
He hides a smirk behind his mug, his bullshit meter fully functioning.
The doorbell rings, and from somewhere in the depths of the house, Louise announces that she’s got it. I hear mumbled talking before they both break out in laughter and enter the kitchen, smiling.
When I look over to Leah, I don’t pay attention to the two coffees she’s holding or the giant purse on her shoulder. All I see is how the sun glows golden behind her, highlighting the lightest blond strands of her hair that frame her makeup free face. Her gray eyes hold a hint of blue today as she walks up and offers me a coffee. I force my eyes back to the table.
“I got you a latte. I figured we could use the energy.”
A latte. I don’t drink lattes.
If my dad and Louise weren’t here, I’d say those words out loud.
“You must be Leah. I’m Heath’s dad. John Braeburn.” My dad is up and striding her way while wearing a fascinated smirk. Since I have yet to acknowledge the coffee, he takes one and holds it in front of my face, forcing me to grab it, before shaking Leah’s hand. “Nice to meet you.”
“Nice to meet you, too, Mr. Braeburn. You have an amazing home.”
“Well, not nice enough to convince Heath to stay a little longer.” He gives her a jaunty wink even though we both know it’s time for me to be on my own.
While they exchange niceties, I grab my keys and wallet and start walking to the door, shouting my good-byes to my dad and Louise and giving Leah a not-so-subtle hint in the meanwhile. I need to get out of here before my dad thinks this is something it isn’t. But, when they all ignore me and I’m forced to turn back, I catch the ridiculous grin on my dad’s face and I know I’m too late.
While I’m driving to the first address, Leah talks the entire way. Something about a color wheel, floor plans, and comparing comps. I keep my eyes on the road and focus on my driving instead of her legs that stretch out from underneath her khaki skirt. She pauses only to take a sip of her coffee. Mine sits in the cup holder, untouched.
When we pull up to a large high-rise at least twenty stories tall, I open my door and step out.
“Don’t forget your coffee.”
Damn.
“I’m not really a latte kind of guy, but . . . thanks,” I grumble.
“Oh, let me guess. Guys don’t drink lattes. Did you even bother to take a sip before you judged?”
Of course not.
She appears in front of me, holding the cup up to my face. “Just taste it,” she challenges.
“Maybe later, Princess.” She blows out an agitated breath at the nickname. Victory. When she raises it a speck higher, I give in and take it, thankful that at least it’s still warm.
Just steps away from the main entrance, she stops short, bending to pick something up.
“Heads up, good luck.” She turns to show me a dull penny.
“Sorry?”
“Pennies. They’re good luck. Well, not all pennies. They have to be heads up.”
My brows squeeze in doubt. “Since when are there rules to good luck pennies?”
“No rules. It’s just something small I do to honor my dad. And they’ve never failed me.” She admires the coin pinched between her fingers.
“Oookay.” I exaggerate the word, so she doesn’t miss the fact that I think she’s crazy.
She gives my shoulder a playful nudge. “Don’t make fun of me, Heath Braeburn. This lucky penny could mean good things for you today.”
“Well, considering you’re the one who found it, I think the luck goes to you.”
“Good thing for you, I’m willing to share.” She takes my free hand and twists it palm up before planting the coin firmly in the center. When she turns to the door, her hair whips by my face, filling my nose with the scent of vanilla.
I’m left alone, mesmerized by the sway of her hips, as I watch every step. Tucking the penny in my pocket, I take a sip of the latte and follow her inside.
Joan is waiting for us in the lobby, eager to lead us to a two-bedroom unit on the nineteenth floor, before le
aving us to tour the space on our own.
Even though she’s out of earshot, Leah leans into me, her shoulder brushing mine, and whispers, “I was thinking there’d be some work to do. I didn’t realize we were looking at places so . . . incredible.”
Who cares what the space looks like? I’m sold on the awe stretched across her face. She’s too fucking cute as she runs her hands along the quartz countertops, opening cabinets and babbling something about a wine fridge.
Her smile explodes when she turns and places her hand on my wrist, tugging me forward. Her fingers slide down until our hands meet, the softness of her palm colliding with the coolness of my own. She doesn’t bat an eye, just continues to lead me forward, as she rambles on about bathrooms and closets. Between the feel of her small hand in mine and her blinding smile, I follow willingly.
“Oh my God!” She splits from me and bounds into the shower of the master bath, arms out and body spinning as her laughter bounces off the glass and across my chest.
“I’ve never seen anyone so happy about a bathroom.” I cross my arms and lean back against the wall, enjoying the show.
“This isn’t just a bathroom, Heath. I mean, look at it. It has a sitting area. Like an actual place to sit other than the toilet. I’ve never seen anything like this before!”
She’s right. It’s been staged with an upholstered chair and a small side table in the corner.
I take a sip of my coffee and then smirk, anticipating what my next words will do to her. “Well then, Princess, better not let you anywhere near the master closet.”
She freezes, and her eyes widen at those two magical words. She springs from the shower and charges back into the master bedroom. I hold my position at the wall, ankles crossed, anxiously awaiting her return. Any second now.
“Where is it?” She’s at my side, cheeks pink and voice flustered.
In all of her spinning, she didn’t notice that the mirror along the wall is actually a wide pocket door. I tilt my head back, and with the speed of a freakish gazelle, she runs past me and slides it open, gasping at the sight in front of her.
“Ho . . . ly . . . shit.” She takes two steps in, her head whipping left then right before turning to me. “This . . . this isn’t a closet. It’s a room. No, it’s not a room. It’s a department store.”
Sweetest Heartbreak Page 3
