Hearts Series Bundle: Books 1-6

by Sabrina Lacey

  Teri nods, reading my face with the intensity of a therapist. “He’s not doing well.”

  My insides twist. My face, too. “How so?”

  She looks to the side for a second, paused by the oddness of discussing this with me. I guess I must have earned her respect in class, too, because she says, “Look, I’ve known Brendan for awhile…”

  “And I’ve already gathered how well,” I interject, so we’re both clear.

  She cuts her eyes to me. “Okay. So it’s out in the open then? Well, I’ve known him awhile and you should know that I’ve never met anyone he’s dated. Ever. As in I don’t think he’s ever dated anyone.”

  I don’t tell her about Rebecca, because I’m beginning to understand they didn’t really date. “He doesn’t do girlfriends,” I offer.

  Teri laughs. “Oh man. That guy is funny. But when I met you at Knockout, he made it very clear that you were his girlfriend. His body language, his eyes, his everything. He’s never done that.”

  We stare at each other. “What are you saying?”

  She chuckles at my need to be hit over the head with it. “I’m saying he gives a fuck about you. That’s what I’m saying. And I saw him the other night. He was a shell. A walking shell. I knew something had happened because he’s always Mr. Easy Going, cooler than cool. Well, he’s not anymore.” She looks at me with meaning.

  “I’m glad to hear it, but I texted him and he didn’t return my text. The thing is, Teri, when a man wants you, he lets you know. I’ve spent long enough waiting for Brendan Clark, I can’t force him to do what he doesn’t want to do, especially if that includes calling me.” I turn and start walking to my car, my emotions propelling me.

  She calls after me, “I just want someone to have a happy ending! There’re too many unhappy people in the world for two more!”

  With my hand on the door-handle of my car, I turn my head. “From your mouth to God’s ears. Goodbye.”

  I climb in, closing the door to sit in silence and stare through the windshield at the dinged-up cement wall in front of me. It’s been so hard not to call him, or text him again. But I know that it takes two people wanting love for love to work. My parents went through a time just after I was born where he was unfaithful, and they decided to work through it together. And they were successful only because they both really wanted it, and wanted it badly.

  Besides, when you chase a man, he runs.

  Turning the car ignition, a radio commercial blasts through my speakers. I turn it down a little.

  I want him more than anything. But I won’t grovel to make that happen. I do have some pride. And where I know I was wrong to lie, I also know that he’s wrong to not give me a chance to heal it.

  10

  Mark

  Chimney Rock Winery

  Goal: show my Nicole a wonderful time.

  Goal: not achieved.

  Why: starts with a ‘B,’ ends with a ‘rendon.’

  ________

  Now that Brendan has walked ahead of us down the path, Nicole leans to me and whispers, “Does he ever crack a smile? Or speak?”

  My hand is on the small of her back as our shoes crunch the soft soil deeper into the ground. We’re on the Behind The Scenes tour with four other guests of the winery. All of us have a glass in hand as we tour the estate, and our senior wine educator has been filling us in on the difference between red and white. Turns out white wine is often made from the same grapes as red, but they don’t leave the skin on. Nicole and I found that fascinating. Brendan asked, “What?” and then walked on before he got an answer.

  “He smiles,” I tell her, quietly, as I glance over to where he’s checking out a dark green leaf that’s shading a tightly-packed bunch of tiny, purple, cabernet grapes, but be doesn’t really see them. He’s pretending. Everything he’s done for the past two weeks has been on auto pilot, like there’s someone else living inside his body, making it move, walk, blink… barely talk.

  Nicole glances to me, the sun highlighting her nose. “Sure, he smiles! When he’s hitting on someone--” She stops herself. I see her face shift in an attempt to switch gears. This is our last day together, so neither of us wants to waste time arguing.

  But about him, I wouldn’t argue. Since I have an ulterior motive in letting her believe he’s a huge player, I keep my mouth shut.

  And maybe he is one, I don’t know. I thought he’d given all that up, but Brendan’s been collecting numbers like he’s in a contest against his former pre-Annie self. That’s how he’s dealing with his heartbreak. I keep expecting him to bring someone home, or stay out all night, but that hasn’t happened. I’ve been wondering if I should step in, and so far, have chosen to let him ride it out. He’s got to wake up at some point.

  Nicole’s been paying close attention, for reasons not unknown to me. Since she arrived a few days ago, she’s been watching him charm anyone under sixty. At first I almost regretted wanting to drag him out of the house to get him walking and talking like himself again. But then I saw her clocking him and realized, Nicole’s a slow mover; she warned me. I don’t want to live three thousand miles away from her anymore, but she will need some persuading. Enter Brendan. She’s watching him, and wondering if she should leave me alone with him, a guy who’s got phone numbers bulging out of his fists. It’s been kind of hilarious, so I haven’t broken the news about Annie to her, that there’s a reason he’s gone off the deep end.

  I give us a month before I’m calling the movers to get my stuff across the country. She’s just about to break. Give people the ability to give you what you want. That’s always the way to go.

  “I won’t let him near you. You’re safe.” I pull her to me.

  “Oh, I’m safe, am I?” she smiles, her gold eyes dancing.

  Leaning down, I say, quietly, “As long as I’m around, you’ve never been safer.”

  Her eyes soften. She wraps her arms around my neck and presses her body into me. “Why do I like you so much?”

  “Because you’re smart,” I smile. She laughs and I catch her in a kiss, drinking her in.

  “Alright, you guys. Enough. Fuck. Let’s taste some wine! This one’s empty.” He turns over his glass and a last little drop falls to the earth. Our guide looks at Brendan like he’s a classless bum, and I can’t argue with him.

  Brendan passes us for the winery and I mumble to him, “Get ahold of yourself, B.”

  He grumbles something incoherent and ignores me.

  Nicole shoots me a sideways look and takes my hand as the guide hurries to catch up with us. “It’s time for the Barrel Tasting portion of our tour anyway.”

  “Oh this is going to be good. This is why I picked this place,” I tell Nicole as we walk. The other guests are behind us a couple steps and I can hear them mumbling to each other about how they don’t like to be rushed. I turn around and smile. “Having a good time?”

  The older woman smiles, caught, and not wanting to be impolite. “Oh, yes!”

  “Good. I like your hat,” I tell her. Her hands fly up to her wide-brimmed straw hat and she smiles, pleased.

  “Charmer,” Nicole whispers to me.

  “No reason Brendan should ruin their day,” I whisper back.

  Nicole bites her lip and keeps walking. From the stiffness in her body, I know she’s getting really tired of this. She’s not alone.

  For the tasting of the winery’s signature wine, the Elevage–a blend of Cabernet Sauvignon, Merlot, Cabernet Franc and Petit Verdot, we learn. Brendan goes through the motions, swirls the glass when we swirl, sips when we sip, but he’s about as much fun to be around as Sylvia Plath.

  When he asks, “What’s in this?” for the third time, I set down my glass hard, not able to take it anymore. “Jesus, Brendan. Just call her!”

  Brendan registers surprise, and looks around the irritated faces. He scowls and puts his glass down, too. “I’m not going to call her.”

  “Babe, can you give me a few minutes? I’m just going to take Brendan
outside and smack some sense into him.”

  She nods, confused, glancing to him and back to me. “Sure. I’ll be here.”

  “Excuse me, everyone. Please don’t wait for us.” I walk past Brendan and he follows me out without a fight.

  When the sun hits us, I motion with a jerk of my digits to get away from the front door, get a little privacy. With his arms crossed across his chest, he walks with me and mutters, “What?”

  I take my middle finger and flick his forehead. “What the fuck are you doing, B?”

  “Ouch! I told you what happened!”

  “Yeah, you did, but would you rather be right… or happy?” He glares at me. “Fuck, you are the most stubborn guy I have ever known. Look, she lied to you. But do you remember that girl? She wasn’t just Goth, she was a baby. She was hiding behind all that stuff. Do you remember how shy she was? Did you ever notice her sitting all by herself outside Drama class?”

  “I didn’t take Drama,” he mumbles, but I can see he’s listening. “You remember her better than I do.”

  “Well, that tells you something right there! Why would she want to bring up the past? What would make a girl like that want to drudge up those days? Look, you and I are used to dealing with women who are a lot more… worldly, for lack of a better term. She wasn’t that. I didn’t recognize her either, but now that I know who she is…looking back? I remember her very well. And I wouldn’t be surprised if she was a virgin back then.”

  He registers this, and looks away, silent as he thinks about the possibility. “Okay, I hear you. But it doesn’t change the fact.” He squints up at the sun, his mouth a thin, grim line. “Besides, what does it matter? Her ex is back in her life, and I fucked up royally.” He looks at me and there is so much pain in his eyes that it takes me aback. “Mark, it’s fucking killing me. I can’t stop thinking about her.”

  I nod, my patience back now. “You know what I’d do? I’d give that Italian guy a fight. When do you think this feeling,” I poke him in the chest just over his heart, “is going to come along again? A woman who changes your world, that’s the woman you fight for.” He stares at me, not speaking, so I add, “Either that or you prepare yourself for an empty life. Take your pick.”

  Walking back into the winery, I leave him to make a decision. I hope he makes the right one, but the ego is a powerful thing. And we men have it worst of all.

  11

  Brendan

  Knockout: closed and locked.

  Bobby: raising an eyebrow at my refusal for another drink.

  Tommy: same.

  ________

  “Nah, I’m done. You go ahead, Tommy.” I lay my empty glass on the bar, my head just cloudy enough to feel better, and my heart is numb no matter what I do. Drink, don’t drink. Work, don’t work. Sleep, stay awake staring at a clock. All of it is the same.

  He takes a swig of a newly poured draft and gets back to talking with Bobby about The Walking Dead. I barely hear their debate about which season is the best as my hand reflexively goes to the folded up construction plans that Annie left in my bedroom. I picked it up before I came here tonight, thinking I might bring them to her, but I’ve chickened out for the past two hours. The paper feels smooth against my fingers, somehow comforting wedged here in the back pocket of my jeans.

  I’ve gotten one text from her asking, Can we talk? It was the day after Christiano took me to the hospital. I didn’t respond, but I’d wanted to. What was I going to say? I see you and your boyfriend are back together–that was fast? Not my style. So I dug my fingers into my palm and shoved the phone out of my sight after deleting her text so it didn’t haunt me every time I looked. But I still looked anyway, expecting another one. It never came, once again proving her to be the exception to other women I’ve known.

  “Every time a zombie kills off one of the main cast members, I blame Game of Thrones,” Bobby yells.

  Tommy’s into the argument and animated. “Game of Thrones changed a game that needed changing. Hollywood was too precious with its story lines. Shit, that’s why foreign movies are so much better. You never know what’s gonna happen!” He rattles off on his fingers, “You don’t know who’s going to die. There’s real honest to God sex that’s raw and gritty. There’s unpredictable story lines. Remember Le Femme Nikita?”

  I’m watching them, feeling antsier and antsier. Bobby tosses a dirty bar towel from one fist to the other. “The T.V. show?”

  “No, the French film. Luc Besson? He directed The Professional. The Fifth Element. Something else, too.”

  Bobby whistles, “Oh, The Professional was incredible.”

  “Did you see his Le Femme Nikita? The same guy in The Professional is in that, too.” Tommy’s hand is in the air with his elbow on the counter as he leans forward to convince.

  Bobby shakes his head, mashing his lips together. “Nah. Didn’t see it.”

  Tommy stares at him like he can’t believe what he’s hearing. “Well, then I can’t use that as an example, because you have to see it and I don’t want to ruin it.” He sits back.

  There’s a hole in my chest bigger than the bullet left, and the more I hear these two talking the more I want to find a gun and make it even bigger. I look from one to the other and mutter, “Fuck, I can’t do this anymore. I have to try. Tommy, come with me to drop this off for Annie.” I pull out the plans and lay them on the counter.

  Tommy freezes, surprised. He looks at them, then at me. “What? Why?”

  I pat them, determination settling in. I have to see her. I can’t stand knowing she’s right up the street and I’m not looking at her. I can’t fucking stand it anymore. I don’t care if Christiano is there with her.

  “She left these at my place. It’s for the rebuilding of her patio. I need to bring them to her. That’s all.”

  I glance to Bobby as he says, “I think they’re done building that. I saw it earlier today on my way here. Looks pretty good.”

  I stand up, done arguing. “Well, maybe she’ll want them as a souvenir. Tommy, you comin’ or not?”

  Tommy picks up his glass, stares into it for a few seconds. I’m sure he thinks I’m making a pussy-move, but I don’t give a fuck. I want to see her and I want to see her now.

  “What do you need me there for?” he asks, not meeting my eyes.

  “Support. She’s got a boyfriend. He’s probably there. Look, I’ll admit it. I just want to see her. I’m not sure what I’m going to do yet. So come on. If he’s there and I walk in alone, I’ll look like an idiot.”

  “Go get her, B-man,” Bobby says, a proud look on his face. “Drinks on me.”

  I put my credit card away. “Thanks, Bobby. But I’m not going to get her. I’m just giving her these, that’s all.” I grab up the plans and fold them again, holding them in my hand for strength. I need every bit of it.

  “Yeah, sure. Okay,” Bobby smiles.

  12

  Annie

  Counting up the till after another busy night.

  ________

  “You need me to stick around?” Manny asks.

  I glance over to him, then to the locked iron gate. “Um… no, you can go. Thanks, Manny.”

  He stares at me, my hesitation giving him pause. “You sure?”

  I laugh off my discomfort and glance back to the bills in my hand. “Well, if you can wait a minute. I’ll just be a second. Do you have somewhere you have to be?”

  He gives a shy grin and shakes his head, but he’s obviously hiding something.

  I suspend the counting for another second, tilting my chin. “You have a girl waiting, don’t you?”

  His olive skin turns bright red and his white teeth shine in the dimmed light. “Yeah.”

  On a happy laugh, I say, “Well, go then! I’m sure I’m fine. I’ll follow you and lock the door. I’ll be fine. Don’t worry.”

  His eyes darken at what we’re both thinking. I’m still freaked over what happened and if he leaves, this will be the first time I’ve walked alone to my car
. But I have to do it sometime. It’s just terrifying the first time, after that it gets easier. At least I’m hoping that’s how it works.

  But Manny takes the decision away from me as he shrugs and takes a barstool. “She can wait. I’ll make sure you get to your car.” He pulls out his phone to text her.

  I want to object, but trepidation stops me. “Okay. Thank you. I’ll count quickly. Do you want a beer or something?”

  He turns the offer down and starts playing drums to Kongos Come With My Now, playing on the iPod. Quickly, I find my place again, and begin to count: Forty. Sixty. Eighty.

  12

  Brendan

  Very. Fucking. Impatient.

  ________

  “I’ll come.” Tommy jumps off the stool. “But only to stop you from making an ass out of yourself for some chick. Mine free, too?”

  “Fuck no,” Bobby snorts. Then he grins. “I’m just kidding. Yeah, yours, too. But this isn’t a habit so don’t get used to it.” We walk to the exit. “I mean it!”

  “Yeah, yeah,” I call over my shoulder without looking back.

  Tommy’s silent. He gets to the door first, walks through ahead of me and doesn’t hold it open. I can see something’s on his mind and I can guess what it is, but he can think what he wants. At least he’s coming with me. That’s the best I can hope for.

  We don’t speak on our way down Mission. I keep a steady, normal pace like I’m calm, but my heart isn’t buying it. As he and I get closer, I can see the sign and the familiar darkness, just like the first night I came back to her when I couldn’t stop myself. This time, since I know her schedule now, I’m sure she’s there. She’s probably cleaning up. Manny’s probably there putting up chairs. It’s been almost three weeks since I’ve seen her face and for the first time since then, I feel alive again.

  I glance at Tommy. “Thanks for coming.”

  His jaw is set, his mouth tight. “No problem. What are friends for?” I ignore the sarcastic tone. I get it. I was like that when Mark was mourning the loss of Nicole when he thought he was never going to see her again. I didn’t get it then, either. So I give Tommy a pass and silently walk the remaining three storefronts until we’re at the patio of Le Barré. He stands back on the sidewalk while I walk up to the locked gate and peer in, leaning forward.