The Flawed Heart Series

by Wade, Ellie

  Bowling on Wednesday went well. Loïc was completely sweet and attentive toward me. He treated Sarah with the same type of admiration he showed to Maggie and Cooper. Nothing seemed amiss, but the underlying feeling of dread remained.

  Loïc did invite me over to hang out with him and Sarah several times this week. I knew he was just doing it to be nice, so I always declined. The mature girlfriend in me gave him time to get reacquainted with his dear friend. I know he needed it, and I hope that his heart was able to mend itself some this week.

  Yet I miss him so much it hurts. I just need him to get here, so I can reassure myself that everything is right between us.

  The rumbling hum of Loïc’s truck’s engine sounds through my bedroom walls.

  He’s here!

  I don’t even wait for him to make it to the front door before I throw it open and leap into his arms. He catches me, and I wrap my legs around his waist. His strong chest vibrates from laughter as I cling to him like a spider monkey.

  “Miss me?” He chuckles.

  His full lips plant soft kisses on my neck as I hold him tight, burying my face against his shoulder.

  It feels so good to have him in my arms again. How am I going to make it a year when I couldn’t even make it three days? Good thing I saw him midweek, or I would have been more pathetic than I am at the present time.

  That’s a lie.

  I couldn’t possibly be more pathetic due to the fact that I’m currently crying. Damn it.

  I’m not exactly sure when I started, but I’m sobbing on Loïc’s soft T-shirt that smells like fabric softener and the sexy-as-hell cologne he uses.

  God, he smells good.

  Pull yourself together, London, before he notices.

  “London, are you crying?” he asks, concerned.

  Well, shit.

  “No,” I lie through a sniffle.

  Loïc laughs. “London, why are you crying?” He sounds completely amused.

  “I don’t know,” I mumble, my throat tight, as my arms continue to cling to his neck.

  “Look at me.”

  I shake my head.

  “London, please look at me,” he says gently, placing a finger beneath my chin.

  I let him guide me, slowly lifting my head, without attempting to wipe my tears. What’s the point?

  “What is it?”

  “Do you still love me?” The words tumble out of my mouth before I can stop them. This isn’t me. In fact, I hate this weak version of myself. Yet, apparently, where Loïc is concerned, I’m not very strong.

  His big blue eyes widen. “Of course I do. Come here.” He moves us to the bench on my front porch and sets me down. He takes a seat next to me and grabs my hands in his. “Tell me what the issue is, London. I can’t fix it if I don’t know what’s wrong.”

  I wipe the wetness on my cheeks. Now that my face isn’t buried in Loïc’s shirt, the tears have stopped coming, which I’m thankful for. I take a large breath and steady myself. “I’m just afraid.”

  Loïc urges me on with his kind expression.

  Why is he the one comforting me?

  In a matter of a week, our roles seem to have reversed.

  I sigh, letting a gush of air out through my lips. “I’m just afraid that I’m going to lose you. I…I’ve had a lot of time to think about us this week, and I really don’t want to lose you. I think I need you more than I realized.”

  He cocks his head to the side. “Is this about Sarah?”

  “Maybe.” I shrug.

  “Do you think something happened between us?”

  “No.” I shake my head. “Maybe. I don’t know.”

  He wipes his thumb across my cheek, catching an errant tear. “London, nothing happened with Sarah.” He regards me with a thoughtful expression. “She knows that I love you, and I know that I love you. Plus, throw in the fact that she and I don’t have that type of relationship, and we never have. I know we’re close, and that can be a little off-putting if you don’t understand it, but I promise you that I don’t love her in a romantic way. I’ve always cared for her like family, someone that I needed to protect. I will love her in that way forever, and she will always have a huge part in my life. But I will never love her the way I love you. You own my heart in that way. You’re the only one who ever has.”

  I allow his words to fall around me, soothing my frazzled nerves like a warm heating blanket. “Okay.” I nod, feeling relieved and mildly idiotic. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I’m being so emotional. I guess the mind can do some damage when it’s left to think of all the worst-case scenarios for a week straight.”

  He pulls me into him. My head is beneath his chin as his strong arms hug me.

  “Is it bad that you freaking out like that made me a little happy?” he asks.

  I lean back, so I can see his face. “Why?” My lips turn up into a grin.

  “It makes me feel better about leaving you for a year. It gives me some hope that you will wait,” he says simply.

  “And me telling you that I will doesn’t?”

  He gives me a crooked smile. “You aren’t the only one whose mind likes to think in worst-case scenarios.”

  “Who knew we had so many flaws? How can we even stand each other?”

  Loïc throws his head back in laughter. “I think you’ll find that more people are screwed up than you think. The trick is finding the person whose flaws are compatible with your own.”

  I remember something he said to me months ago. “So, we can be fucked up together?”

  “Perfectly fucked up together,” he says before kissing my forehead.

  “Until we’re just together?”

  “Exactly. Look at that; you listened to me,” he says with mocked shock.

  “I remember everything you’ve ever told me. The question is, whether I choose to believe you or not.”

  “And what’s the verdict?”

  “I believe you,” I admit. “Next time my heart tries to be all dramatic, I will have my brain remind it of your words.”

  “Sounds like a plan. So, are we good?”

  I nod. “We’re good. What do you want to do today?”

  “It’s such a nice day. I thought we could go on a hike and maybe go apple-picking.”

  I sigh.

  “What?” Loïc laughs.

  “I know I’m being a downer and all, but I was promised two months with you, and though I’m truly happy for you and Sarah, I feel like I was robbed of a week. The one month and three weeks we have left need to be more epic than, ‘Let’s go walk around the wilderness.’” I use my fingers to make quotations in the air while my voice goes low in a horrible impression of a dumb Loïc.

  My joke has the desired effect as Loïc laughs. It’s full-on and carefree—my favorite.

  “Oh, it’s going to be epic, little spoiled one. We have the entire day. Don’t worry. We’ll end it in bed where the magic happens.” He playfully waggles his eyebrows, eliciting laughter from me.

  “Or we could skip the nature part and just go there now.” I pout my lips.

  “Though I still find that pout extremely adorable for some reason, I’m thinking that, eventually, it’s going to be time for you to let it go. And we can’t spend our entire lives in bed, London.”

  “That’s not what you said two weeks ago.”

  “Yeah, I’m fickle about my convictions in that way,” he teases. “It’s a flaw.”

  “I hate you.” I giggle.

  He wraps an arm around my middle, pulling me against his body. His hand cradles my jaw. “And I love you,” he says before he drops his full lips onto mine. His lips are soft and full against mine, and his touch is warm.

  Instantly, I’m lost in him, and the truth is, I go in gladly with my eyes closed and my heart open, leaving me exposed.

  Love makes me weak—it’s true—but it’s in that fragility where I will find my true strength.

  “Admit it!” Loïc tickles my sides until they ache, but I refuse to giv
e in.

  Tears of laughter fall down my face, and I gasp, “Stop! Stop!” I kick my bare legs, trying to buck a naked and extremely sexy Loïc off of me.

  “Nope, not until you admit that you are a stubborn woman.” His fingers work their way up to my underarms.

  I can’t stand underarm tickles. To me, it is the cruelest type of torment.

  “Okay! You’re right!” I laugh.

  He stops tickling me, and I catch my breath. My chest expands as it recovers.

  “Right about what?” He quirks up a brow.

  I exhale. “You are right. It was an amazing day out in nature,” I say the word like it’s poison.

  “And?”

  “And I had fun! You happy? You win. Okay?” I stick my tongue out at him.

  He chuckles and rolls off of me until we are lying side by side in my bed.

  In reality, I had an incredible day. The warm autumn weather made it a perfect day to walk through the woods. And Loïc was right. The apples in the store do not even compare to the deliciousness of a crisp apple straight from the tree. Though I’m trying to fight him, he’s turning me into an outdoorsy girl.

  Okay, maybe that’s a bit much. I’m not going to subscribe to Field & Stream magazine anytime soon, but I will admit that some outdoor activities are fun…enough.

  But I love to rile him up. It’s one of my favorite pastimes.

  “I hate when you tickle me. That’s a weak form of torture,” I huff out, my sides still tingling from where his fingers just were.

  “No, you don’t,” he answers lazily.

  “Um, yes, I do,” I respond with a slight attitude.

  He turns to his side and props his head up with his arm. His blue eyes squint, assessing me. “What did I say to you right before I tickled you?”

  “I don’t remember.” I shrug.

  “Stop being a hard-ass for two seconds, London. What did I say?” He shakes his head in disbelief with a huge grin on his handsome face.

  “You said that if I didn’t tell you the truth, you were going to tickle me.” I sulk.

  “Exactly.”

  “Exactly what?”

  “I gave you an out. You didn’t take it, so you wanted me to tickle you. I got your number, oh spoiled one.” A cocky expression graces his face and, damn it, if that look isn’t gorgeous on him, too.

  I laugh. “You’re ridiculous.”

  “Ridiculous for you.”

  “That doesn’t even make any sense,” I tease right before he bends and takes my exposed nipple into his mouth. The sudden pull startles me, and I yell out.

  He releases it just as suddenly and plants light kisses up my chest, across my collarbone, and up my neck. I hum with contentment as his lips caress my skin.

  He sucks on the sensitive skin of my neck for a minute before he leans over my face. His fingers run through my hair as his eyes take me in.

  “So, today was good enough for you?” His lips press into a line as he tries not to smile.

  “Yes, I will allow today to be counted toward the month and three weeks I have left with you.”

  “Well, I’m glad because I don’t know what I would do if it wasn’t good enough.” He chuckles.

  “Try extra hard tomorrow,” I quip.

  He shakes his head. “You’re kind of insane.”

  “Insane for you.”

  His head falls back in laughter, and the sound is so beautiful. “What did I do before you?”

  “I have no idea.”

  He runs his thumb across my temple, his face serious. “I spy with my little eye someone who’s so beautiful that it hurts, someone so caring that she was able to break down my solid walls, and someone with ridiculous flaws that perfectly complement my craziness.” A slow smile forms on his lips, lighting up his eyes.

  “You know, growing up, I held on to this dream of London being this magical place where I would eventually go. It was going to be the place that would save me and shelter me from all the evil in the world. I knew that, when I got there, I would be happy. I would be safe. My dream of London helped me get through some of the darkest times in my life. I knew that I could endure anything because, soon, I would get to London, and all the bad would be replaced with nothing but goodness.” He pauses, taking me in with such reverence that my heart twists.

  “Along the way, I lost some hope. I started to believe that maybe this miraculous place wasn’t meant for me, that I would never get there. I would never be rescued. I would never be happy.

  “Then, I met you, London. You refused to give up on me. You fought for me time and time again when I was nothing but cruel. Somehow, you saw something in me that even I couldn’t see. You saw worth. You made me believe in myself, so I could believe in us.

  “You are my London, my safe place. You rescued me, made me happy. You are so much more than the woman I love. You are my entire destination. Wherever you are is where I’m meant to be. I was never meant to make it to some fantastical place overseas, made up from a little boy’s imagination. My entire journey has been steering me toward you. It has always been you.”

  His blue-eyed gaze captures mine. My heart, full of gratitude, pounds beneath my chest.

  “I don’t even know how to respond to that,” I choke out. “Those are the most beautiful words I’ve ever heard in my life.” Tears fall from my eyes. “I love you, Loïc, so much. This”—I bring my finger between his chest and mine—“is meant to be. We are meant to be. I know it. I know we’ll make it, no matter what happens.”

  “No matter what,” he echoes my thoughts.

  He brings his lips to mine and thoroughly kisses me. Yes, this day definitely counts…in a big way.

  Dueling emotions swell beneath my chest. I have never been so amazingly happy in love before, and at the same time, I’ve never been more scared. Maybe that’s what love truly is—complete and utter loss of control, your heart beating outside of your chest, fragile and open.

  With real love comes unyielding fear because, when you really love someone, you never want to know what it feels like to be without that person.

  But maybe that’s what makes love so great. The risk is so worth it because you know what it’s like to have that all-encompassing love. True love brings the knowledge that you’re one of the lucky ones because not everyone gets this.

  I know I’m so fortunate to have Loïc in my life, and I’m not going to take a second of it for granted.

  I’m going to face the fear head-on. It’s the presence of fear that means the love is worth fighting for.

  We’re going to make it, Loïc and me.

  Of this, I am certain.

  Copyright © 2016 by Ellie Wade

  All rights reserved.

  Visit my website at www.elliewade.com

  Cover Designer: Regina Wamba, Mae-I-Design

  Editor and Interior Designer: Jovana Shirley, Unforeseen Editing, www.unforeseenediting.com

  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  ISBN-13: 978-1-944495-03-9

  Loïc

  Age Five

  Seattle, Washington

  “Magic already lives in my mind and heart. I just have to make it.”

  —Loïc Berkeley

  “Please be a king. Please be a king,” I chant as I get ready to lay down the card in my hand.

  Nan looks at me funny, a smile on her face. “Why do you say that, dear?”

  “Because all the other face cards have been laid down, so if I have the king, then I am going to win.” I grin big, grasping the card
to my chest.

  Nan shakes her head. “You are a bright one, Loïc, my dear. I don’t know how you keep track of what’s been played thus far.”

  I shrug. “Just really smart, I guess.”

  Nan laughs. “That, you are, love—the smartest.”

  I’m playing war with the new cards Granddad and Nan got me for Christmas. They have a picture of a giant Ferris wheel on them. Nan said that the Ferris wheel is called the London Eye, and when you ride it, you can see the whole city from the top. She promised to take me there when I go visit them. I can’t wait. I got to ride a Ferris wheel last summer at the fair, but Daddy said it was very small compared to the one in London. Everything in London is cooler.

  “On the count of three, Nan. Okay?”

  “All right,” she agrees.

  “One. Two. Three.”

  Each of us lays down the card in our hand. I cheer when I see that I hold the king, which allows me to take Nan’s last card—a nine—from her. In the game of war, a king will beat any card but an ace.

  I stand from the table to do my winner’s dance. I jerk my arms from side to side and wiggle my butt a lot. The butt part is important because it makes everyone laugh, and when they’re laughing, they won’t feel bad about losing. It always works. Nan is laughing from across the table, and I smile. I love winning, but it wouldn’t be fun if I hurt someone’s feelings.

  I stop when I hear Granddad yelling from behind me. I turn to see him using a couch pillow to hit the wall.

  “Damn wasps! Always such a nuisance this time of year!”

  I walk into the living room and squint toward the wall, looking for wasps.

  Nan passes me and lays her hand on Granddad’s arm. “Henry, dear, there are no wasps in here. It’s December.”

  My daddy goes by me with a pillow in his hand. “It’s fine, Mum.” He pats her on the back before he swings the pillow at the wall. “There, Pop, I got the last of them,” he says cheerfully as he takes the pillow from Granddad’s hand.

  Granddad nods. “Good, son. You really should spray, you know? You don’t want those buggers stinging little Loïc.”