A Heart to Heal (3 page)

A vision of the arrogant blonde guy insisting that he was free to
talk
with Shayla when he'd seen her in Atlanta a year ago came to mind. He'd been in Atlanta for a party Jared and Malcolm put together for their mother's engagement. The happy celebration quickly turned sour when Jared and Tasha got into an argument and he'd been enlisted to take her from the party to a friend. If he would have known the friend was Shayla, he would have let Tasha and Jared fight it out. At the time he hadn't seen Shayla since high school, but it didn't stop his body from reacting the way it had when he was seventeen whenever she was around. But when the man walked up to her and caressed her arm with his wedding ring clear for everyone to see, he'd pushed his desire aside and remembered that Shayla was only out for herself.

“Was he the guy I saw you with in Atlanta?”

She raised her chin and met his eyes. “Yes, but we weren't together at the time.”

He shook his head. “If you knew his position, why were you seeing him?”

She shrugged a shoulder. Dark lashes lowered over her eyes. “I don't know.”

Irritation snapped within him. “Bullshit, you know. Why were you with him?”

Her eyes widened, anger sparked within their dark centers. “I don't owe you an explanation.”

She was right, but he couldn't help himself. Once again she picked the wrong guy. A part of him knew this push for answers was because he never asked for them when it was his heart she'd broken. He wouldn't think about how unappealing years of old jealousy looked on a man. “No, you don't. But you owe yourself one. Shayla, why do you choose these guys?”

She looked away. “Sometimes they choose me.”

“Admit it. You enjoyed the excitement, the rush of doing something forbidden. Regardless of the consequences, you wanted what made you happy.”

Her lips curled into a sneer as contempt filled her eyes. “That's easy for you to say, isn't it? Easy to believe I only care about myself. Not that I avoided his advances for
years
. Or that I didn't believe it when he said their marriage was in trouble until
she
filed for divorce. It doesn't matter I didn't agree to one date with him until
after
they separated. Forget that he swore he loved me, but quickly changed his tune when he realized it would be easier for him to run for senate with his wife of ten years than me.”

Pain and humiliation were clear in her eyes, yet she held her head high. A part of him believed her. There were men who lied about their marriages to sleep with other women. But he clearly remembered how Shayla's need to have fun — regardless of the consequences — did a TKO on his heart years ago.

He tried to relax and lower the tension between them, but couldn't keep from saying, “In the end he was still a married man.”

“Well now I know to scratch married men off my list,” she said mockingly as her fingers played with the gold heart pendant resting on her chest.

He ran his hand along the back of his neck. “There's no need to joke. His lying doesn't excuse what you did.”

“Why do you insist on seeing the bad in me?”

“I don't insist on it. I just don't believe in sugar coating things to make them sound better.”

She rolled her eyes. “You haven't changed at all. You still try to rationalize everything. Never take into account emotions, or feelings — ”

“Emotions and feelings are the same thing.”

She scoffed. “Who cares? My point is that you want things to be black and white when life isn't like that.”

“Are you telling me you loved him?” Jealousy gripped him as he waited for her answer. The door to a relationship between the two of them was shut, bolted and nailed closed, but it didn't make it easier thinking of her in love someone else.

She chewed the inside of her cheek before answering. “No, I didn't love him.”

Relief relaxed his shoulders. He didn't want to exam why. “So why where you with him?”

His eyes bore into hers. He shouldn't have asked. But ever since Shayla had gone from the one person in life he could trust, to the person who'd hurt him the most he'd always wondered what went on inside her mind. The same rationale she criticized him about was what she once claimed kept her sane. Now she didn't appear to want any sanity in her life.

“We had fun together, okay. The thing you hate to hear me say, I did something just because at the time it seemed like a fun thing to do.” Her shoulders slumped and he saw in her eyes how much it upset her to admit that to him.

She shifted on the exam table. “Can you take me home now?”

The entire conversation was unnecessary. Why Shayla Monroe did the things she did wasn't his concern. If she never realized how smart, beautiful and special she was and continued hooking herself to men who never realized it either, then more power to her. From what he'd heard she was only in town temporarily. His best bet was to try and avoid her while she was here and move on with his life after she left.

He reached out to help her slide off the table. It was easier to ignore his reaction to her closeness this time. He pulled away abruptly and with a brisk “wait here” left to get a pair of crutches stored in a closet. He helped her adjust them to her height, she was only a few inches shorter than his six feet, and they left without a word.

The silence continued as he drove toward her mother's home. On the way, memories of driving her home after football and basketball games rushed through his head. The way they'd talk and laugh about everything that happened during the day. Then end the night sitting on her mom's porch until Marcella finally told him it was time to go. He hadn't thought of the good times with Shayla in years.

As he approached her mom's house he remembered his nurse, Lisa, complaining about Mr. Porter renting one of his homes to her. The main complaint was the assumption Shayla would have strange men parading through. That was unfounded. Shayla may be reckless, but she wasn't a slut, or at least she hadn't been.

Dusk had settled, and the only illumination on Shayla's street came from the old street lights. It was enough to see there were still a few people sitting on porches. His truck was well known, and by morning every gossip would know where he'd been. He could only imagine the speculation after he dropped her off. He pulled up to the small house she rented and cut the engine. If she was surprised he knew where she stayed she didn't say anything.

“I got it.” She said when he came around to help.

Ignoring her, he took the crutches and helped her out of the truck. “I'll help you inside then leave, alright.”

She nodded and he assisted her up the stone steps. He frowned when she opened the old screen door and front door without a key. “You didn't lock the door?”

She hopped into the house before turning to face him. “I was only supposed to be gone for a half hour at most.”

He sighed and shook his head. “Shayla, you lived in Atlanta, you should know better than to keep your door open.”

She waved her hand. “This isn't Atlanta.”

“We still have criminals.” He looked over her shoulder. He could see most of the house and it didn't appear as if anyone was there. Boxes were on the floor in the living room and kitchen, but he didn't like leaving her there without knowing if things were secure. “Do you want me to check the house?”

She laughed. “Really? Where would someone hide in this matchbox?” She tilted her head to the side and a teasing glint came to her eye. “Are you searching for an excuse to come inside?”

She was only teasing him, but it didn't register with his dick as it twitched at the implication. It had been too long since he'd had sex, something he'd have to remedy if he were to live with Shayla in the vicinity. Ignoring his long neglected libido, he stepped back. “I don't want to come in, but I'll wait in my truck for a few minutes. Flash the porch light if everything is clear.”

She rolled her eyes and shook her head. “Man, you're old fashioned. Good bye, Devin.”

She closed the door and he ambled off the porch toward his truck. He got in and waited, wondering if she'd really flash the lights. Although he'd warned her about criminals, he doubted she had anything to worry about. Everyone knew everyone on this street, and even though there were a few less than savory people living in this part of town, no one would blatantly hurt her. Even so, he tapped his hands on the steering wheel when a few minutes passed and she hadn't flashed the light. He reached for the handle to open the door and check on her, when the porch light flicked on then off. Feeling relieved, and foolish, he turned on his truck and sped off.

The next morning Shayla woke up frowning. Her reunion with Devin went just as she'd expected. He'd clearly shown his disappointment and as usual, hadn't let her off the hook for wrongdoing on her part. What was worse, his disappointment mirrored her own. Yes, Mark lied to her about his relationship with his wife, but he wasn't the first cheating man to use that excuse. In the back of her mind she'd always questioned if he would really let his wife go. She knew he planned to run for senate; and intuition, more than her public relations experience, told her it would be easier if he ran with his wife at his side. But when she'd learned of their pending divorce, loneliness overran good sense. After years of ignoring Mark's advances, she let herself entertain the thought of them together.

She hadn't lied when she told Devin she'd stayed with Mark because he was fun. From the moment she'd met him, he was charming and easy going. She may not have loved him, but she'd believed he loved her. It wouldn't have been long before she would've eventually allowed herself to drop the shield around her heart and try to love him.

With a disgusted grunt she got out of bed. She tested the pressure on her foot and was relieved that it didn't hurt as badly as yesterday. Leaving the crutches where they were, she half walked, half hopped into the bathroom and flipped on the lights. Halfway through brushing her teeth she remembered the lack of a shower. With an eye roll, she turned on the water in the tub and finished brushing her teeth. Too impatient to wait on the tub to fill, she stopped the flow when there was enough water reached her calves. It wasn't as if she could soak with her foot wrapped up anyway. A bath was good after a long day, but not as the sole source of cleanliness. One more reason to get the hell out of this house and this town.

She dressed in a red and black sequin halter top and a pair of skinny jeans. Frowning at her wrapped foot, she opted out of matching heels, and slid on a pair of red flats before putting on a thin black leather jacket and leaving the house. Remembering Devin's disapproval at her leaving the door unlocked, she made sure to lock it even though she was only going down the street to her mother's. It was after eight thirty, so her mom would already have left for her job as a custodian at the high school. Hopefully she'd left her newspaper so Shayla could look through the classifieds. She had a laptop and an iPad, but of course neither Mr. Porter nor her mother had internet. So searching for a job the traditional way was what she was stuck with, unless she visited the Helena library and used one of the public computers.

She hated having to drive the short distance, but didn't want to draw more attention to herself limping down the street. She slid into the driver's seat of her Audi — thank goodness it wasn't her driving foot that she'd hurt — backed out and drove to her mom's house. She parked beside her brother's old Toyota Camry.

Her cell phone rang as she put her car in park. It was her friend Tasha. She ignored the call. She loved Tasha, but right now couldn't face talking with her friend. Tasha knew about the scandal in Atlanta, but Shayla was still too embarrassed to discuss it with her. Tasha was the good person in her life who gave her friendship without judgment. But she didn't think her newlywed friend could really hide her disappointment that Shayla had slept with a married man. Eventually, she'd have to make the drive to see Tasha. Sooner or later the heat from the rumors in Helena would get too close to her heart and she'd run to her friend in Columbia, just like she'd done when they were younger.

She got out of the car and limped up the porch steps. She knocked on the screen, before opening it and turning the knob on the door. It was locked. With a sigh she rang the bell before banging on the door. After a few minutes of constant bell ringing and knocking, she finally heard the heavy footfalls of her brother in the house.

“Who the hell is knocking on the damn door like the police?” He yelled as he swung the door open. His scowl turned into a look of exasperation when he saw her. “Shayla, why are you banging on the damn door? Ain't you got a key?” He turned and headed back into the house.

“As if Momma's gonna give me a key.” She said following him.

Their mom's house hadn't changed much in the years since she left. The living room furniture was new to her, but the thin spots in the flower pattern proved it was probably another second hand purchase. A plastic runner made a path from the living room to the kitchen and a matching one lead down the hall to the bedrooms. Pictures of her and Kenny from grade school adorned the wall and a curio cabinet overstuffed with inexpensive figurines. The smell of bacon filled the house and years of eating healthy were forgotten as she entered her mom's kitchen. A plate of bacon sat on the old white stove, next to a pot of grits.

Shayla walked over and turned off the stove. The grits were still smooth and her stomach growled as she breathed in the buttery smell. “Momma, forgot to turn off the stove.”

Kenny plopped down in a chair at the kitchen table. He scratched his chin with one hand while pulling the black wave cap off his head. “She didn't forget, she left it on so I'd have something to eat when I got up.”