Tangling Hearts (Hearts Series Book 3) Read online

  “Ooooo! Let’s! Who was that?”

  “No one I want to talk to.”

  We walk to the exit and she looks up, tilting her face for a quick kiss, which I’m more than happy to make long and slow. When I pull away, she’s breathless and her eyelashes take a second to drift up. “Wow.”

  I walk out so she can lock the door. When I turn my head, I catch her looking at my ass. “I saw that.”

  “I’m only human.” She smirks. “Philz, right?”

  “Yup. Let’s walk. No, don’t even think it. I need the exercise and it’s just a few streets over.”

  She holds up her hands after adjusting her purse on her shoulder. “I wasn’t making a peep!”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Rebecca

  Clothes, Toothpaste, Makeup: in suitcase. Lace Lingerie: in trash

  I walk to the front desk and look around. The place has definitely lost its charm. There’s an average-looking guy in his early twenties, working the desk today and thank God for that. I’m so ashamed of myself for yelling at that poor girl. I slept like shit, and then couldn’t wake up at my normal 7:00 a.m. The only thing that’s got my feet moving now is the desire to get to the hospital to tell Brendan what I found out.

  “Here’s the key. And can you please give this to the woman who was working last night?” I hand the guy a hundred dollar bill. “Please put this in an envelope and tell her I’m sorry.”

  His eyebrows come up and together. “Will do.”

  “Thank you.” Grabbing the handle again of my suitcase, I turn my heels around and adjust the strap of the purse on my shoulder. Stopping, I turn and face him again. “Oh. Who has the best coffee in the area?”

  He doesn’t even have to think about it. “Philz. You need the address?”

  I nod, remembering Brendan and I going there on many of my weekend visits. “No. I’ve been there before. Thank you.”

  Carting a rolling suitcase down a staircase is always a humiliatingly awkward and uncomfortable experience. Doing it after you’ve been through what I have, makes it ten times worse. Each clunky step feels like a deeper descent into unhappiness. Lifting the suitcase into the back of my SUV and closing the door, I catch my reflection in the window. How did I get here? How can I make this better? Thinking back to that phone call from the hospital telling me Brendan had been shot, if I’d have known what I would be going through, I would not have come.

  But here I fucking am.

  So I climb in the car and head to the hospital by way of one short stop for a much needed latte. Maybe that will make me feel better.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Brendan

  Finger: pointing to Knockout

  “I’m going to talk to the guys here and see about getting them on board to help you.”

  She looks at the neon sign hanging in the window that reads: NOPE.

  “Does not bode well.”

  I chuckle at the joke and give her hand a squeeze. “I’ve got your back. They’ll do it. I can be very persuasive.”

  “Oh, I know. I got a great big dose of that when you talked me into letting you come clean up the bar, and look where that got you.”

  “It got me here with you.” I hold her eyes for a second and she smiles. Suddenly, I remember an idea I had. “Oh - I thought of something, too. Take the charge out of what happened to the bar by naming drinks after it. What about The Gunshot?”

  Annie’s face squishes up, but then she thinks about it and her face changes completely. “You know what? That’s genius.”

  “And one called The Krav Maga… and… what else?”

  Our hands swing as we walk. She’s staring ahead, fishing through her idea-maker for more. Her eyes light up. “How about Broken Glass? It could be a clear vodka/soda in a martini glass with crushed ice!”

  I cock my head to the side, impressed. “I forgot you’re a mixologist.”

  Puffing out her chest, she grins. “One of the best.”

  “Ha! Okay, Boozy, what would The Krav Maga be?”

  Without even pausing, she pulls out the recipe: “Bookers Bourbon, rocks. It’s 126 proof, so it knocks you on your ass. The ice is to help the bruising go down.” She smirks up at me. “What do you think?”

  “Holy shit.”

  Her comical cockiness vanishes into sweetness. “You really like it?”

  I make a noise through my teeth, and nod. “The Gunshot?”

  She nibbles her lip, looking at the sidewalk ahead of us. After about five or six steps, she frowns. “I don’t know about that one.”

  “C’mon, Freckles, you can do it.”

  She exhales and concentrates for the length of four shop-fronts, but finally shakes her head. “I’m stumped. You give it a shot.”

  “Pun intended?” She rolls her eyes, but there’s an unguarded, wounded or scared look behind them that wasn’t there before. She’s such a strong, funny woman, it’s disarming to see her with that look in her eyes. It brings out the protector in me, big time. “It must have been pretty hard seeing me all bloody like that, huh?” She nods, frowning at the memory. “Hey, that’s why we do it, Annie. These drinks will be your biggest sellers because everyone will know that you took the memory of something bad and made it into something good.”

  She nods. “I understand the concept, and I love it.” She looks down the way people do when they’re sharing something really personal. “I’ve even used it to get through some of my own things… but this one’s harder somehow. The Gunshot.” A shiver runs through her and she looks to me, hoping I’ll understand.”

  I think about it for two whole seconds before I realize the way to help her is to do what she would do; she would make me laugh by throwing some curveball my way. So I give it my best shot. “Okay. How about a White Russian with grenadine and a cherry poured through the cream so it coagulates and looks like blood?”

  She makes a face like she just smelled something awful and bursts out laughing. “Okay, that’s disgusting.”

  “Says the girl who has a Mayan skull on her couch. And look at you, laughing at the disgusting drink. You’re sick and twisted, Freckles. Sick and twisted!”

  Still laughing, she points a finger at me. “You’re the one who said it!”

  I shrug, looking ahead like I don’t hear her. “The movie today?”

  “Uh-huh?”

  “Let’s do an action film. My staples are going to explode if we go see a comedy. You make me laugh too much as it is.”

  “There can never be too much laughter. But I agree. No comedies.” As we walk up to Philz entrance, she says, with conviction, “And we’ve had enough drama.”

  I step ahead, open the door. “Action then?”

  She gives me a little bow. “Done!”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Rebecca

  Nerves: shot. Mind: planning. All I Need: coffee.

  Turning toward Folsom, I picture the cup of morning glory in my hand, how the heat will warm my fingers, how I’ll blow on the tasty liquid to cool it down, how I’ll close my eyes when it slides down my throat. Mmmmmm… so good. The thought alone is good enough to pull forth a relaxed smile from my bottomless pit of discontent, which is a miracle in and of itself. Which means: coffee = miracle.

  Approaching 24th Street, I find a great parking spot, really close to Philz. Putting the car in park and sliding out my keys, I open the door, and start for the crosswalk, looking up at the lights to see which is red or green. Given the go, I head for Philz, my eyes on the sign above that reads Best Handmade Coffee rated by SF Weekly, framed by a bright green storefront, with people sitting on the wood bench to the right. I smile at them and walk into the cozy, casual space that looks like it could double for a youth hostel; mismatched chairs, blue ceiling, mixture of framed art and posters, a couch in front of the windows that’s probably always got people vying to sit there before anyone else takes it. The line is long today and I look around the few people standing in front of me, in order to gauge how long this might take.<
br />
  My hearts stops beating.

  I see Brendan’s profile looking down at a woman with strawberry blonde hair – HER. She turns her head and he kisses her, the light in his eyes bright, different, happy. A hollow feeling grows in my chest like someone’s filling a water balloon inside me, the heaviness of gravity taking it down as it expands. In slow motion I’m trying to breathe as he bends and whispers something into her ear. She lays the side of her head on his arm, and I take a step to my right so I can see better. They’re holding hands, and the balloon bursts inside me, the painful water spilling into all of my limbs.

  Turn around, Rebecca.

  Walk away.

  The one person who was in front of them pays the cashier and steps aside to wait for their order, leaving Brendan and HER to step forward. Over the music and conversations, I can’t hear him, but I watch his lips move as he orders an Americano – what he always orders. Only I’m the one normally with him. He turns to look at HER as she orders from the cashier.

  I watch him, and see something that takes away the last bit of hope I have in me. I can’t deny it anymore to myself that this is ever going to happen with him and me. I guess I always knew it would end.

  That light that people have in them when they’re in love, it’s all over him. As she touches the light-colored wood counter, head tilted up to look at the chalkboard menu above, his hand is on her back. Every time she moves, he’s touching her with an intimacy and an ownership that I never experienced with him. And his eyes are filled with it.

  But he doesn’t know she’s a liar.

  Well, he’s about to find out.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Brendan

  Fingers: Can’t stop touching her. Heart: relaxed and happy.

  “You want room in your Americano?” the cashier asks.

  “No. It just gets in the way of my coffee.” Annie smiles and lets go of my hand to hold onto the counter and focus on the menu. I slip my fingers onto her lower back and lightly caress it, watching her face as she concentrates to decide.

  “I want to try something different. How’s the Chai Latté?”

  The cashier - a guy with shaggy brown hair who looks like he probably plays guitar in an alternative band – rolls his eyes to the ceiling in his efforts to describe it. “Do you like sweet or salty?”

  Freckles looks at him. “I’m in the mood for sweet.”

  “You’ll love it, then.” He smiles and she beams at him.

  “Great. Sign me up.”

  With my free hand, I pull out my wallet and shake my head as she reaches for her purse. “I’ve got it.” She hesitates and smiles, thanking me by rising on her toes to give me a kiss. I’m pretty sure this is the best way to spend an afternoon ever, and I wonder, what have I been doing with my life, up until now? I throw a five into the tip jar, ignoring the raised eyebrows of the cashier. Annie looks at me like I’m a super hero and all it cost was five bucks.

  We step aside to the left, nearer to the wall with the bulletin board where locals post their band flyers and business cards. Annie’s telling me how she should have asked if there was caffeine in the Chai because she needs some. I look up as someone enters the door of the building, a guy habit to always have an eye on the exit, and when I do, I catch the eyes of Rebecca staring at me, just a few people back in the line. The look on her face is cold and distant, like she’s a stranger and not someone I know very, very well. I glance down at Annie and back to Rebecca, wondering what’s about to happen. I can see an inevitable war.

  Bracing myself, I reach out and take Annie’s hand, my eyes fixed over her head on the woman I’ve hurt, even though I really didn’t mean for this to happen.

  “What’s wrong?” Annie asks me, worry creasing a line on her forehead.

  “Rebecca’s here.”

  She turns her head. They look at each other and Annie turns to me, stricken. Quiet, her eyes fall to a button on my shirt in front of her that she stays fixated on. “It’s going to be okay,” I tell her. “Just hang on.”

  Rebecca leaves the line, her eyes locked on mine, the pain in them killing me. She’s got that proud stance, but I know her better than that. I can see how badly I’ve hurt her, how she probably wants nothing better than to disappear into the ethers. But we all see each other. There’s no avoiding confrontation.

  Rebecca’s eyelashes lower as she looks at Annie, at our hands held together, then back up to me. Annie turns and looks at her, but her body is close to mine, just where I want it.

  “You’re out of the hospital. I guess that means you’re on the road to recovery.”

  I nod. “Yeah. They let me out last night. How are you?”

  She nods her answer, a polite, curt motion reserved for strangers she looks down upon. She looks again to my hand holding Annie’s tightly. Her breath catches and she says, “I have something I have to tell you, Brendan.”

  All of my muscles are tense. “Okay.” Annie’s watching Rebecca, her palm becoming sweaty.

  Rebecca’s head is high and she’s blinking too much all of a sudden, having trouble with what she wants to say. She gulps and looks at Annie, then meets my eyes as she says, “I found out that…”

  “Americano!” the cashier calls out.

  We all look over. Rebecca says, “That’s you,” her whole body crumbling.

  I know exactly what she’s thinking. “Yeah. What were you going to say? The coffee can wait.”

  Rebecca’s hand goes to her throat and her eyes mist up. In a pained voice, she launches in. “I found out that… the donor I was hoping for, just came through with a huge grant for Global Girlfriends. I had told you about it. Remember?” She brings her hand up and wipes away a tear, shaking her head like she wishes she had Dorothy’s slippers on.

  For a split second, I’m confused by the information, but then I realize that what she’s really saying is goodbye.

  “Oh. That’s great news. I’m really happy for you.”

  She nods and looks toward the tables, avoiding my eyes. Annie’s staring at her and her hand has gone limp in mine. She turns to look up at me and releases my hand altogether.

  “Chai Latte!”

  “Excuse me.” Annie looks at Rebecca with kindness. “It was good to see you again. If you’ll excuse me.” She glances back at me to let me know she wants me to talk to Rebecca, take however long I need. I’m stunned, but grateful. Would I have done the same?

  “Let’s go outside.”

  Rebecca lets me guide her out the exit, blinking back tears as we go. She looks up at me when we get to the sidewalk.

  “That’s not really what you wanted to say, was it?”

  She smiles the saddest smile I’ve ever seen. “No… but I changed my mind. You looked so happy. I didn’t want to take that away from you.”

  “You couldn’t have.”

  She smiles with a weird faraway look in her eyes. “Mmm.”

  “We had some really great times.”

  She’s looking past me to someplace in her mind, to a better time. “Yeah. We did. Thank you for those. You really made the time fly.”

  I reach out for her arm. “Rebecca, you’re beautiful and---”

  She pulls away, shaking her head, eyes flashing. “Please don’t, Brendan. I don’t want to hear that.”

  “What do you want to hear?”

  She sighs, staring at the traffic. “That I meant something. That I changed your life in some way. That you care. That it wasn’t all for nothing.”

  I look up into the sun and take this in, thinking of her. “I do care. You did change my life. You were the only woman I’ve spent that much time with. I wouldn’t have done that if I didn’t care about you. I grew up with you.” She rolls her eyes, looking away over a raised shoulder. “Seriously. Look at me.” I reach out for her hand. “I’ve watched you; your grace, Rebecca, and the way you talk to people, the way you’re helping the world – you’ve showed me what a good person is.”

  She stares at me, fresh tears ri
sing. “Thank you. I really needed to hear that.” She gives my hand a squeeze. “I hope you’ve found what you’re looking for, and that you stay happy.” Letting it go, she quietly says, “For what it’s worth, I love you.” I watch her walk to the edge of the sidewalk and hit the button for the light, a chapter of my life ending, the pages turned with every step she takes away from me.

  With one last look over my shoulder, I walk back inside and see Annie sitting at a table, faced away. If it had been me in her place, I would’ve been at the window, but I’m glad she wasn’t. I lower myself slowly into the seat beside her and she watches my face as I pick up my coffee. “Have you checked the times for movies?” I ask, lifting the lid to blow away the heat.

  Both hands are around her cup and she waits for me to look at her again before she asks, “You okay?”

  “Yeah. It was weird, but it's good it ended well. Thank you for not being insecure about waiting.”

  She shakes her head against an ironic smile. “You think I wasn’t insecure?” Her gaze slips left and she makes a comically pained face, but then shrugs. “But it’s between you and her. I just had to wait and see what happened. Let it play out as it would. Which was very, very hard.”

  I put my coffee down and lay my hand on the table, facing up. Her hand slides across my palm and she grips my wrist. I go with this and grab hers, too. “You keep surprising me.”

  She leans in. “Well, then we’re even. You’re the biggest surprise I’ve ever had.”

  A feeling waves through me as I look at her, and I look to our hands, because it’s too much for me to meet her eyes right now. “Okay. Even.”

  We stay like this for a while, drinking our coffee in silence and listening to the other conversations around us, never letting go of our grip. Time passes and neither of us feels like rushing it or filling the silence. When we eventually rise, I take her empty cup and throw them both in the recycle-bin. She waits, calm and peaceful. We walk out with me leading the way. At the cross walk, we wait at the same light I watched Rebecca walk to. It strikes me that this little strawberry-blonde is my new chapter, or maybe a whole new book. I look down at her, thinking something made me get Mark out of the house that night, something made me not want to go into Knockout, something told me to try someplace new. Something made us meet, and I think that something is fate.