Sparing the Heart (Pastime Pursuits #3) (20 page)

Gretchen slams her bottle on the table. "What?” The anger in her voice is apparent. “She fired you? I hate that woman.
Hate
."

She’s not alone in that sentiment, but I’m not going to down talk Macy. Drama is something I try my best to avoid, which is why I lied to Kellan in the first place. “Hate is a strong word, Gretchen, and I don’t blame her.” It turns out she had a right to be worried. “Would you want some girl working with Clark?

“Clark works with a
ton
of women. Sure, some are as old as my grandmother, but some aren’t. And they’re
gorgeous
, but I trust him. Macy doesn’t trust Kellan.”

“Maybe she shouldn’t.”

That came out of my mouth a little faster than intended.

“What?”

How do I maneuver my way out of this? Nothing happened between us, but that doesn’t erase the fact that something almost did. And I wanted it to. “Nothing.”

“No.” Her lips form a perfect O. “Tell me. Now.” Her pointer finger is changing colors with how much pressure she’s putting on the table.

I’m afraid she’ll judge me. Even if she isn’t Macy’s number one fan, she’ll still be family one day. “All I’ll say is maybe some sparks existed between the two of us, but they’re gone now.” There. Broad enough, and I think I eliminated the chance of her jumping to any conclusion we were physical.

“That’s because you’re an awesome person, Kate, and I’m not surprised if my brother likes you. Yes, he’s getting married — and he shouldn’t be. He doesn’t
want
to. Why do you think he won’t set a date? The only reason someone is so untrusting of another person is when they don’t trust themselves. I’m sure Macy is seeing other people behind his back.”

“How can you be sure of that?”

“I don’t have evidence or anything. She’s always thought of Kellan as her Knight in Shining Armor, but she only cares about herself. All she wants is attention and if any man shows her any, she’ll jump on it. She had no right to fire you. I’m
so pissed
.” Gretchen’s gaze moves past me. She squints her eyes and lowers her head. “What the hell?”

"What?" I jerk my head around and Macy is seated at the bar, her arm hung over some dude. Wait. That’s not just some dude. The man she’s with is Brian Turdow from Channel 8.

"That little hussy!" Gretchen stands up and hikes her pants up at the waist and rolls up her sleeves.
 

"What are you doing?"

"Being a big sister." She zooms past me and taps Macy on the shoulder. I take a sip of my wine before running behind her. Am I going to add bouncer to my list of occupations tonight?

"Macy! Do you mind telling me what the hell is going on here?" Gretchen’s face is as red as a stop sign, but she shows no sign of slowing down.
 

“Who is this chick?" The man brushes Macy's hair aside.
 

"This
chick
is Macy's future sister-in-law. She's marrying my brother,
Kellan Valentine
. Or at least she was, you low down dirty shame of a woman!"

A smile is plastered to Macy’s face, like she's proud of being caught. "Excuse me,
Gretchen
, but Brian is a friend." She darts her eyes at me and I take note of the nearest exit. "Much like Kate is Kellan's friend."

Our situations are nothing alike. I can’t believe she is comparing my now defunct friendship with Kellan to her coziness with Brian Turdow. The pit of my stomach fills with butterflies and I’m caught between wanting to throw up and slap her across the face. Through all my fantasies about Kellan, that’s all that remained. Fantasies. She’s here, in the flesh, practically cheating on him.
 

“Kellan and I aren't friends." I’m tightening my clammy hands, prepping for what may go down. I don’t know why it’s important to me she knows I don’t talk to her fiancé anymore.
 

“Good. Now if you'll please be on your way, I need to get back to my friend."

"You little bitch. I'm going to be sure my brother hears about this."

"And I'm sure he won't believe you. You've had it in for me since day one."

Gretchen is practically foaming at the mouth. I put my hands on her shoulders and try to pull her back. "Let go of me." She shrugs me off.
 

"Gretchen, let's be the bigger people here."

"Yeah. Be the bigger people," Macy mocks me and I swear I'm going to clock her. She takes out her phone and snaps a photo of herself and Brian.
 

"She’s not worth our time." I’m urging her now. I want to be out of Macy’s sight.

Her eyes lock with Macy’s. "This is
not
done. You are
not
marrying my brother." She points her finger at her, inches from her face.

Macy doesn’t budge, only smirking and holding the stare. She waits until we start to walk away before she responds, “Watch me."

“Daddy!” I scream. “Daddy, where are you?” My feet are frozen to the ground as groups of people race past me, too involved in their own lives to notice this six-year-old girl yelling for her father. Does anyone even see me? I allow myself to move enough to turn. I’m spinning in circles, my eyes darting everywhere in the room as I search for the Milwaukee Bucks cap he’s wearing and his dark zip up hoodie. The crowd is dissipating until it’s only me. I’m in the middle of the circus ring, alone.

I gasp for air as my eyes pop open. I’m in my bedroom, at my own condo, and I’m safe. My dad, though, he’s not coming back. That day at the circus, he did. For two horrific minutes I stood lost in a crowd before he scooped me up. For twenty-eight more years we would never lose each other again. Until now.

I miss him so much. I grasp my pillow and pull it into my chest as the tears start to flow out of my eyes. I’m sobbing and wish I had someone to hold me. Times like this I almost regret moving away from the only family I have. In all reality, though, even if I’d never left, I still would wake up alone, no one beside me to comfort me, kiss my forehead, and tell me everything is okay. My brother is married, Gretchen has Clark, Tiffany has Taylor, and Kellan has Macy. Who do I have?

My head aches the more I cry. I reach for a tissue and note the time. It’s only eleven. Most adults my age are still out enjoying the night. Well, those childless at least left their kids with a sitter. Here I am waking from the umpteenth nightmare in a year. I should be out dancing or even filling up on a late night appetizer.
 

I run my hand over the decorative pillow next to me. That’s what shares my bed with me every night, a pillow that no one’s head rests upon. I don’t need a man to share my life with, but right now, I’d settle for physical intimacy, a touch, anything.
 

I can’t believe I’m doing this, but I pick up my phone and send a text.

Meet me in thirty outside The Perculator.

••••••••••

“This is beautiful,” I say to Ned as we lean back in our seats in the car. He got a coffee and I opted for tea and are now sitting in his car with the State Capitol in view. The awesome thing about sharing a city with college students is places like cafes are open super late. “That place is amazing at night.”

“I love living here.”

“Sometimes I miss the suburbs. Then I sit back and take all of this in and I’m so glad I moved here.”

“Think you’ll ever go back?”

I shake my head. “No. This is home now. I’ll go back and visit. I mean, it’s less than two hours away, so I don’t have an excuse not to.”

“I’m sure your family misses you.”

“It’s just my brother, his wife, and my aunt.”

Ned turns on his right side. “Really? What about your parents?”

I tighten my grip around my mug, allowing the warmth to move through my hands. Some day I’ll be able to mention them without my heart aching and gasping for air. I can’t believe we’ve known each other this long and I still haven’t told him about my parents. “They’re both gone.”
 

He sets his cup in the holder and lightly touches my shoulder. I can’t pull away. I need this. “I’m so sorry, Kate. I know how difficult that is.”

“You do?” My pitch changes as I cock my head. Sometimes when lost in your own grief, you forget others lose people they love, too.

“Yes. My parents passed when I was very young. Ted and I — well, our grandpa raised us. Losing him was the hardest thing we’ve ever gone through.”

“Even the time you spent … away?” I’m uncertain which would be more difficult, saying goodbye to someone I love, or being locked away from everything I know, forced to conform to a society I would fear every day. Wasn’t he afraid of dying in prison? He crossed paths with people who did worse than he did. The thought alone frightens me.
 

The concern in his face drops and I think I’ve upset him. “You spoke with Gretchen, didn’t you?”

A car drives by, causing me to close my eyes to avoid the shining headlight. I open my eyes and he’s waiting for my reply, his eyebrows darted together, worry covering his face. “Yeah. After the palm reading.”

“Damnit!” He crosses his arms and turns away from me, the vein around his temple engorging. “I don’t want that being public knowledge, and I especially don’t want my friends spreading gossip around town.”

“Well it
is
public record.” Not that I go around searching for information, but anyone can use a search option and discover it on their own. “Gretchen isn’t gossiping. I asked.”

“Yeah, but still. You must think I’m a horrible person.” He hangs his head in shame.
 

I’m sure life isn’t easy for him. His term was short, if any time in prison can be called that, but re-entering society and dealing with people’s misconceptions about his character must be tough. He didn’t ask to be judged, and it’s simply not fair people do. “Actually, I don’t. Gretchen said you refused to give up your friend. That’s quite honorable.”

He turns the radio up a few notches when “Centuries” by Fall Out Boy comes on. “I love this one.” He bobs his head to the music and starts a drumming rendition.

A perfect change of subject. Clearly all I have been told about his time in jail is all I will ever know. He doesn’t want to talk about it as much as I don’t want to discuss my father. “I thought you were a country guy. You
are
in a Randy Travis cover band, for crying out loud.”

“So what?” He stops mid-drum. “I can’t like other music?”

“You’re eclectic. I like that.” His hands drop to his lap as I look into his eyes. I mean
really
look. Here’s this sweet man, we’ve been out a couple times, and he’s interesting. His actions at the palm reader upset me, but after speaking with Gretchen, I understand his reserves. My shield lowers as a lock of hair releases from his ponytail and falls over his face. I reach my hand forward and he doesn’t flinch as I brush the escaped strand out of the way. “And you’re a damn good guitar player.”

“I am.” He licks his lips and puffs out his chest. “That I am.”

And he’s not afraid to acknowledge it. It actually makes me laugh out loud when a few months ago, I would have been disgusted, calling him cocky.

The song ends and Ed Sheeran’s soulful voice replaces the previous rock tune. With the lights of the Capitol lit up in front of us, I can’t deny the romance. Ned is staring out his window, his head tilted as he observes the stars. I jump when he catches me watching him, but relax as he leans towards me.

He’s kissing me. Ned’s lips are planted on mine and it’s not what I expected at all. His tongue barely slips through in this soft, warm, and sincere exchange. The problem is I don’t feel a thing. The moments leading up to this gave me hope and fooled me into believing maybe he and I could develop into something. We can’t, though. We won’t.
 

When we break apart, his head sort of shifts and he sits back. “Huh.”
 

I inhale deeply, the heat from the vent next to me drying my nose. What’s he thinking? Is he going to kiss me again? What do I do if he does?

My body stiffens as he runs his right hand over the crown of his head and pulls back on his ponytail. “That was … “

“Just okay.” I cover my mouth with my hands when I realize I said the words out loud. I don’t blame him if he asks me to walk back to the coffee shop to get my car, leaving me with an almost mile hike in the frigid temperature.

He turns his head and the bottom of his lip curls into a smile. “Exactly.”

I bow my head and release a quiet exhale. Rejection never felt so good.
 

“Listen, you’re a very nice girl.”

“And you’re a very interesting guy.”

“But we don’t fit.”

“No, we don’t.” He’s outlining the obvious. I won’t hurt his pride by pointing out I, too, have no desire to pursue anything romantic with him. “Having friends, though, that’s a great thing.”

“Yes, it is.”

I’m glad he’s mine. We don’t mesh sexually. I’m happy we both accept this and can move on as friends. This wasn’t the intimacy I desired tonight, but sometimes a supportive friend is all you need.

I rub my hands together before opening my car door. Damn, Kellan’s forecast didn’t lie. Subzero temperatures for the last week of January. A few months are left of winter, but I hope we’re on the upswing and warmer air will overtake this frigid atmosphere. The dash lights of my Focus light up and I glance at the temperature — negative twelve. Now I wish I’d opted for the condo with the gas fireplace. I’ll make some tea when I’m back in the house.

I yank the box to the edge of the seat so I can grab a hold of it. My hands slide under and as I lift it up I stumble forward before catching myself. I forgot how heavy this box is. Once my hand is steady on the corners, I use my butt to shut the car door and head back upstairs to my condo.

I try not to drop the box too hard onto the table, but after carrying it all the way upstairs, my arms give out, and the table shakes when I drop the package. I slit the tape, sighing when I set the scissors down. As though opening a carton of eggs, I take my time pulling back the sides. One at a time I press the cardboard down until the black bag inside stares back at me. I place my hand on the zipper.
It’s just a ball.
I remind myself this should be easy, but my heart isn’t receiving the memo.