New Tricks

by Kelly Moran

  “Zoe!”

  But she was running and didn’t stop to listen. It was all she could manage. To run. Toward, away, from, to… It didn’t matter. Panic clawed its way to the surface and shredded her. Lungs burning, thighs cramping, she ran. Across her subdivision, through the outskirts of town, past a wrought iron fence, over damp grass until finally halting by…Heather’s grave.

  Collapsing, she leaned against the stone marker and heaved air. Sweat beaded down her face, dampened her shirt. Her skin hot, her insides cold, she clutched at her chest and realized the envelope was still in her hand. Unable to look at it, she shoved it in her back pocket and lay sideways on the rain-drenched grass, staring at her best friend’s grave.

  Wife. Daughter. Friend. May angels lead you home.

  Outlandish, bone-jarring tears wracked her body. “I miss you.”

  Pressing her face into the grass, she let loose. Her cell rang and her shredded heart bled and her phone rang some more.

  But she lay there long after the sobs quieted and dusk came and went. Crickets chirped and fireflies blinked in the distance. A light breeze crackled leaves over her head. The faint glow from streetlights lit part of Heather’s stone, and Zoe sighed. What she needed most was her best friend.

  “I miss you,” she said again as if Heather were right there with her. “You died and left us all devastated.” She didn’t realize how angry she still was, but it wasn’t as if Heather was at fault.

  Swallowing, she rested her head on her arm. “I have a confession. Drake and I have been seeing each other. For the longest time, I fought my feelings, thinking you’d be so mad at me.” A rough laugh shook her. “But you don’t get mad, even when you should. You knew, didn’t you? That day you died, you made us both promise to take care of each other. That was your subtle way of giving us permission if we ever moved past friendship. It took me four years, but I figured it out.”

  She ran her fingers over the lawn, threading the short blades, breathing in damp earth. She told Heather about Mama and the clinic and the damn meddling Battleaxes. “I swear, sometimes I conjure that serene voice of yours telling me to simmer down and not get arrested for battery. You used to say that all the time, remember? Simmer down, Zoe.”

  And because she needed to, she rolled over and talked. Stars winked overhead and her phone blew up and Zoe kept right on talking. About Cade and Avery and Hailey. About Flynn and Gabby. About Brent and his new guy, Miles. Evening waned and her eyes grew heavy.

  “I missed this most of all. Staying up all night gossiping.” A yawn cracked her jaw. “Tell me I’m doing the right thing, Heather. Promise me I’m not hurting the guy we love by being with him.”

  Drained, exhausted, she closed her eyes.

  Something vibrated under her hip and her lids flew open. Sunlight seared her retinas and she covered her face with her arm.

  Wow. Okay, she’d fallen asleep in the cemetery. Moaning, she sat up and scrubbed her hands over her face. Damn, she was stiff. As a whippoorwill cooed in the distance, Zoe unpocketed her phone. And grimaced.

  Twenty missed calls from Drake and Cade. Two texts from Gabby, one from Flynn, and fifteen from Brent. Crap. She scrolled through all the where are you’s and call me’s. Guilt twisted her gut. She hadn’t meant to worry anyone.

  She ran her hands through her hair. “We pulled an all-nighter, H. And not even a decent hangover for the effort.”

  Quickly, she shot off a group text to everyone letting them know she was okay and she’d see them at the softball game soon. Then she bit the bullet and checked Drake’s messages.

  Yeah, she’d scared the shit out of him. Once she got through the panicked voicemails, she pulled up his texts and fisted the phone. Air wheezed past her lips.

  We met on a meteor.

  We sailed across the sky.

  I can’t recall the day.

  I know not how or why.

  Zoe clapped a hand over her mouth, reading the next text.

  We met on a petal,

  A piece of dandelion fluff.

  We floated on a breeze of wishes.

  Foolish me not to recognize love.

  We met on a crowded ballpark,

  The thrush of humanity passing by.

  And we were at a standstill,

  Not even a breath in my lungs to sigh.

  “Holy crap, H. He wrote me poetry.” Shaking, she scrolled down and realized the next part was about Heather’s funeral.

  We met in an empty room.

  Two broken souls among the fray.

  Years and distance and regret between us,

  And with one call, you stayed.

  Tears burned her eyes, even though she should be irrevocably dehydrated by now. His last text said: If you want the last verse, come find me.

  She’d tattooed memories on her body and he’d captured them with poetry. Some hers, some his. Mary Mother, that man.

  Stark reality smacked her upside the head. It didn’t matter if she was sick or not. He wanted her. She’d always wanted him. They should be together, however much time was allotted.

  Blinking repeatedly, she set the phone aside and pulled the lab results from her pocket. With a sudden burst of courage and shaking hands, she ripped into the envelope, quickly scanned the page, and let out a wail. Fisting the paper, she allowed the rest of her tears to tumble and then rose to her feet.

  She blew Heather a kiss. “Love you.”

  Chapter 26

  Drake paced his living room, staring at the group text Zoe had sent moments ago. A fucking group text!

  I’m okay. Sorry to worry everyone. See you at the game. xoxo

  He was going to ring her scrawny neck with his bare hands until her pretty eyes popped out of her beautiful face. Right before he killed her and after he kissed her. Then probably repeat the process. Twice.

  “Maybe you could quit climbing the walls now that we know she’s all right, yeah?”

  Drake sent Cade a blithering glare and continued pacing. His brother shrugged from the chair he was slumped in and rubbed his eyes.

  When she hadn’t returned last night after an hour, Drake had gone batshit. Storming the castle, howling at the moon, put him in a padded cell, batshit.

  He’d posted Gabby at Zoe’s, Avery at Cade’s, Flynn at his own house, and Cade at Drake’s while he and Brent had scoured the town for Zoe. They hadn’t found a damn trace of her. Not at Shooters, the nursing home, the ballpark, and even the cove, or the fifty other locations they’d checked. She hadn’t returned to her house or answered so much as one of his three-million and twenty-four texts or calls. According to Gabby’s updates, Zoe’s car was still in the driveway at home.

  Worry ate away at the lining of his gut until his ulcers had ulcers. Christ, the way she’d stared at that envelope. Face drained of all color. Swaying on her feet. Shaking uncontrollably. Worse, was that the news had come right on the cusp of her longtime forthcoming meltdown over her mother. It fucking killed him dead watching her fall apart. For years, she’d held him together, and to see her lose it was the equivalent of running his heart through a meat grinder. And then she’d just taken off. Left him standing there holding his jaw and scratching his head.

  And she... Did. Not. Come. Back.

  “We’re going to be worth spit in today’s game.” Cade yawned. “I’m not even sure I can move. Haven’t pulled an all-nighter since college.”

  Drake rubbed the ache in his chest. “Thanks for being here.” If not for his brother, he might be in a straightjacket.

  “Anytime.” Cade eyed him warily. “She’ll be okay, man. Zoe’s made of grit and iron.”

  And tissue paper and toothpicks. Most didn’t know how very fragile she could be under all that strength. “Thank you. Again.”

  His cell rang and he all but dropped it trying to answer. His chest deflated when
he saw who was on his screen. “Hi, Mom.”

  “Hey. I forgot to tell you I stopped by your place yesterday when you were at work. I left something on your dresser.”

  Digging his fingers into his eye sockets, he nodded. “I haven’t been up there, but I’ll go look.”

  “I noticed the painting from Zoe on your fireplace. It’s truly amazing. It got me all misty-eyed.”

  “Yeah.” He’d hung the one she’d made of him and his dogs above the mantle. “She’s talented, that’s for—” He stopped breathing for the fiftieth time in twenty-four hours when his gaze landed on said painting. “I have to go.”

  “Sure. I’ll see you at the game. And, Drake? About what I left for you? It was time you had it, that’s all.”

  Confused, gaze still locked on the painting, he muttered an okay and hung up. He walked closer and stood in front of the fireplace. When the hell had she done this? Last he’d checked, the piece was of him and his dogs.

  But now, Zoe had been added at the bottom, lying in the grass, watching him with that come-hither smile of hers. And that wasn’t all. Heather was there, too, iridescent as a ghost and sitting on a cloud. Her finger was paused in a swirling motion, aimed toward the ground, where two dandelion seeds floated down. Like she’d conjured two wishes. Stars shone through her semi-transparent form.

  “Holy hell.” He rubbed his chest, but the damn ache wouldn’t abate. Hadn’t all night. It just kept spreading and growing and expanding. His sinuses prickled and he inhaled. Hard.

  “Takes a special breed of woman to not only accept the deceased wife, but to embrace her.” From his side, Cade stared at the painting. “I’d say it was because she was her best friend, but that’s not giving Zoe enough credit.”

  Drake couldn’t survive this a second time. He just...couldn’t. He was one lucky bastard to have found two true loves in his lifetime, but if Zoe walked or wound up sick, he’d flat out die himself.

  The front door opened and closed with a quiet click.

  He whirled, and there—thank Almighty—was Zoe. Still wearing the same clothes from yesterday, her hair a knotted mess, and dark circles under her eyes, she bit her lip.

  Most beautiful sight he’d ever laid eyes on. So he growled at the reminder of how she’d eviscerated him last night.

  “I’m sorry I worried everyone.”

  “Right. Well, I’m going to go.” Cade pointed to the door and raised his hands in surrender. He side-stepped to the exit as if fielding landmines. “Zoe, glad you’re fine. Drake, remember she has a helluva left hook, yeah?”

  Zoe tracked Cade until he was gone and then she stared at the floor. Rubbed her forehead. Blew out a sigh.

  Screw this. “First of all…” He strode toward her and kissed her into next week. Let her walk away from that. “Second, where the holy fuck in all damnation have you been? I can see you weren’t lying dead in a ditch. Which I blame my mother for putting that visual in my head.”

  Her mouth opened and swiftly shut.

  Sweet blessed grief, it was hard to hold on to angry through all the relief. “Were you pole dancing naked? Standing on the Eighth Street Pier debating jumping? Saving the homeless? Drinking yourself into a coma? Held hostage by a team of Smurfs? Because I assure you, all those scenarios streamed through my head. And worse.”

  “Uh, no.” She fisted a piece of paper in her hand. “Though being held hostage by tiny blue people would—”

  “Then where, Zoe? Because you had me scared to damn death.”

  She pulled a deep breath and looked at him through fathomless eyes. “I was with Heather.”

  Shit. Shit, shit, shit. He was an asshole. And that was the one place he’d never thought to look when it should’ve been the first. Of course—of course—she’d go to the cemetery and be with her best friend.

  Closing his eyes, his shoulders deflated right along with his chest. “Zoe, honey.” He hauled her against him, shaking from an adrenaline crash. “I’m sorry. I love you and I’m sorry for yelling.”

  Pulling away, she shook her head. “No, I’m sorry. I freaked out.” She held the balled up paper. “You wanted to do this together and—”

  He took the thing from her and ripped it to shreds, then dropped the pieces so they rained down like confetti. “That’s what I think of the damn test. I don’t care what it says. I only—”

  “It was negative.”

  Every hair on his body stood erect. “Wh…” He cleared his throat. “What?”

  “Negative. In uppercase and bold print. They ran it twice.”

  His lungs refused air exchange and something sharp jabbed his chest from the inside. Hope, maybe. It had been so long since he’d recognized it. “So, you’re not…?”

  “Not a carrier.” Her lip quivered. “Fifty-fifty odds, and I beat them. Never had a lucky day in all my life. But I’ll take it, just this once.” Her voice caught. “I think Heather had a hand in it. Said a good word for me or something. This also means we can have children someday.”

  Twenty. They’d have twenty kids. Hell, a hundred. It didn’t matter. She was okay. That was the important thing.

  He cupped her face, shaking his head in disbelief. “Thank Jesus.” Because there was nothing else to say, and grateful didn’t cover it, he kissed her. Long, deep, and righting his upturned world again.

  “Speaking of Heather. I saw the updated painting.” He’d never get over that. “I love it.”

  She brushed her nose with his and her uneven breath skated across his lips. “She belonged with us.” Lip bite. Adorable smile. “I should’ve said yes when you asked about pole dancing. That couldn’t have been too tough a visual for you.”

  Laughing, he kissed her again. Optimism blossomed and, for the first time in years, stuck. Grew. Cultivated. “I love you. And I think you should show me said dancing skills. Right now.”

  She smiled against his mouth. “I love you, too. And I totally would, but we have a softball game in under an hour. I need to run home and change.”

  Fine, later. Forever. Always. “I’ll meet you there.” He stepped back. “And you’re coming home with me after.”

  “Duh. You owe me the last verse of a poem.” Gaze softening, she smiled. “I loved it, by the way.”

  He shooed her out or they’d never make the game, then ran upstairs to change. Nylon shorts and jersey on, he turned to leave and glanced at the dresser. A little red box was placed near the candles Zoe had bought. Walking over, he lifted the lid and dropped on the bed in shock.

  His mom’s wedding ring. The diamond was princess cut and surrounded by small pink tourmaline gems, which was Mom’s birthstone and Zoe’s. The gold band had an inlaid swirl design he didn’t remember it having before. It was pretty and just artistic enough to not be ordinary.

  Dad had still been alive when Drake had proposed to Heather. Cade and Flynn hadn’t the heart to ask Mom for her ring when they’d found their loves. It seemed too right, too perfect, that it should go to Zoe. Her mother had been his mom’s best friend, and they did share the same birthstone.

  He fingered the ring, heart in his throat. After he’d lost Heather, he never thought he’d recover, never love again. And then Zoe had swooped in like a tsunami, reminding him he still had life yet, even when her future was uncertain. She’d loved him as a girl, as a friend, and a woman. He couldn’t ever recall a time he didn’t love her either, no matter what capacity.

  He’d meant what he’d said to her. He didn’t care what the result was, he only wanted her. But with her test negative and her mother safe in a home, thriving better, there was nothing standing between him, this ring, and Zoe. A family was possible now, too.

  His mind fired on all cylinders, plotting. Planning. Thinking. And with a curve of his lips, he rose, shoved the box in his pocket, and drove to the game.

  Sunshine broke through the slight cloud cover as
mid-morning fog dissipated. Rainstorms had finally dropped a smidgen of the heat two days earlier, leaving the temperature hovering in the mid-seventies. Players warmed up on the field as Drake slung a bag over his shoulder and walked to the dugout fence.

  Gabby and Flynn had Zoe sandwiched in a hug. When they parted, Brent gave her a talk-to-the-hand and then hugged her also before sauntering to the bleachers. Packed house. Good weather would’ve done that alone, but their games always drew a crowd.

  Cade stepped up beside him. “Looks like it all worked out. No bloodshed.” He grinned. “And I hear the test results were favorable.”

  Christ, Drake nearly wept just hearing it again. “Between you and me, I don’t know what I would’ve done. The very thought of losing her, too, was unfathomable.”

  Sobering, Cade faced him. “Listen to me. We all died a little the day Heather did, you most of all. Take this second chance with both hands and don’t look back. Zoe’s perfect for you, and no one deserves happiness more.”

  Since he rarely left an opportunity on the table, Drake grinned. “You know I love you, right?” He scratched his jaw. “I mean, I love Avery more, but you’ll always be my brother.”

  Cade laughed. “Understood. And I love you, too.”

  Drake focused on the field, thinking about where he’d be if he hadn’t had his parents’ marriage as an example of how to love properly, without bounds. Sure, they’d fought and didn’t always see eye to eye, but there was mutual respect and adoration. He and his brothers had grown up knowing they were loved unconditionally and taught that showing so was the only way to live.

  Zoe’s laugh brought his attention to her near the third base line. Parker and Jason flanked her and were grinning like dipshits. Didn’t matter. She was coming home with Drake. Regardless, he called Jason over.

  “What’s up?”

  “Question.” Drake jerked his chin toward the mound. “Who’s pitching today?”

  “Funny story. Parker sent that douche Rick back up north to the precinct where he came from, which leaves me.” He shrugged. “Why?”