FEELING THE SOFT pelt of something smack me in the face, I blinked awake. My sluggish body quickly followed suit as the world around me shifted into focus, my surroundings forcing me back to my cruel reality. I was in my living room, sprawled across the couch, a strong odor in the air that made my stomach turn in revulsion. How long I had been passed out, I had no idea. I rubbed at my tired eyes, the incessant, skull-splitting throb behind my temples making me cringe against the slightest glimpse of light.
Fuck, I felt like shit.
Another unknown object struck me in the cheek, and I glanced down, watching through bleary vision as a piece of popcorn rolled and joined the rest of them lying on my chest.
“What the—”
“Finally. It’s about time you woke up. I’ve been here almost an hour already.”
I dipped my chin, my gaze finding Mason, who sat cross-legged on the floor at the far end of the couch, his shaggy blond hair falling over his forehead as he reached into his bag of popcorn and shoved a fistful in his mouth.
“Why do I have popcorn all over my chest?”
“Your mouth was open. I was trying to make a basket.”
He was trying to make a basket.
Groaning, I placed my hands over my face and sagged deeper into the cushions, willing the pounding in my head to subside. “I don’t know if I’m more disturbed that you were sitting there watching me this entire time or that you didn’t consider I could’ve choked to death.”
“Not possible. If I’d actually managed to get one in your mouth, it would have triggered your gag reflex, and you would’ve woken up before it caused any permanent damage.” He shoveled more popcorn into his mouth and then brushed his buttery palm on his jean-clad thigh. “Speaking of death, it smells pretty bad in here. You’re taking your medicine, right? You’re not like dying from the inside out, are you?”
I inched my fingers apart, peering at him through the tiny slits trying to block out the harsh light from the living room lamp. “Yes, I’m taking my medicine. And no, I’m not dying from the inside out.” Although that last statement was debatable. “What are you doing here anyway?”
“I came to collect my pay for the week. I saw your truck in your driveway and knocked, but when you didn’t answer, figured I’d let myself in and make sure you hadn’t keeled over or something.”
“Keeled over? I’m not ninety, Mason. I wouldn’t just keel over.”
“You could, though. I mean, you’ve had a heart transplant, so having a massive heart attack isn’t out of the question, right?”
Unsure if I wanted to laugh or cry, I shook my head. He was asking too many questions for my hungover brain to process. “You are such a buzzkill, you know that?”
“You didn’t look like you were buzzing.” His nose scrunched as his gaze drifted over the empty beer bottles on my coffee table. “Or maybe you were. Are you even allowed to drink this stuff?” He leaned in, picking the bottles up, one by one, inspecting the labels.
“I can drink whatever I want.”
“But you’re not supposed to,” he countered.
I didn’t say anything. The kid was too smart for his own good. Yes. Drinking was off limits, but I’d needed something to take the edge off. I was desperate and miserable. Unfortunately for me, those two things made for a lethal combination.
He leveled his eyes on me, a hardness in his boyish features I wasn’t used to seeing. “So, you were trying to kill yourself. Are you suicidal? Do I need to call—”
“Jesus, Mason.” Bolting upright, I swung my legs off the sofa and bowed my head, dragging my fingers through my hair. “No, I’m not suicidal and I wasn’t trying to kill myself. I was just trying to ...” What? What the hell had I been trying to do? I drew in an agitated breath, not at him, but at my own stupidity, and let it all out on one long and exhausted exhale. “I was just trying to forget for a little while.”
“Forget? That sounds like a poor excuse for dealing with life.”
This kid. Heart failure should have been the least of my worries. At this rate, he was going to give me an aneurysm by the time I was thirty.
After a few moments of silence, I lifted my gaze to his. Whatever expression lingered on my face managed to change his tone.
Pity, and possibly for the first time ever, understanding, flashed in his innocent pools. “Does it hurt that much?”
There was a part of me that wanted to be honest with him, tell him that sometimes life hurts and it’s easier to bury the pain and mask it with a temporary vice than face it head on and deal with the turmoil, but I bit my tongue and kept those thoughts to myself. He didn’t need one man’s opinion, especially one who’d spent the last twenty-four hours inebriated and becoming best friends with the bottom of the bottle.
Some kind of role model I was.
Sinking back into my temporary grave, I positioned a pillow under my neck and another beneath my head as I watched Mason stand from his spot on the floor. He moved in front of me and sat on the wooden coffee table, pinning me with a concerned glare while holding the popcorn bag out between us.
“No, thanks,” I mumbled, knowing neither my heart nor my stomach could handle it even for the sake of courtesy.
“You didn’t answer my question.”
Rolling my eyes, I paused, not believing I was entertaining the idea of having this conversation with him. Then again, who else was around to vent to? I’d been avoiding the café as much as possible, fearing Addy would ask questions I wasn’t ready to answer, and my father was an absolute no-go. Our relationship had greatly improved, but the last thing I wanted to do was acknowledge he’d been right. Getting involved with Cassi had proven to be a much bigger disaster than he’d initially warned me against, yet I’d fallen anyway. I loved her anyway. And now there I was, spilling my woes to a kid who was more than half my age but far beyond his years.
“Yeah, it does.” I swallowed, desperate to tamp the words down along with everything else I was feeling. “It hurts a hell of a lot.”
“Have you talked to her since?”
“No. And it’s probably better that I don’t. She’s much better off without me.”
Disgusted, he flapped his arms, pieces of popcorn jumping out of the bag and landing on my floor. “Why do you adults make things so complicated? If you love her, then just be with her.”
I scrubbed a hand over my face and laughed at his simplistic response. God, he made it sound so easy. And you’d think when you loved someone as much as I loved Cassi it would be easy, but this—this was complicated. So fucking complicated.
“Life is complicated, Mason. Trust me when I say it’s not all unicorns and rainbows.”
“Well, that’s exactly the point, isn’t it? If life is so hard and messy, why would you want to spend it alone? Haven’t you done that long enough?” Eating the last of the buttery goodness, he crumpled the bag in his hands and swiveled on the table, tossing it in the wastebasket positioned on the other side of the room. He turned back to face me. “My sister’s boyfriend broke up with her, and all she’s done for the past week is lock herself in her bedroom. I can hear her crying into her pillow at night.”
I arched a brow. “Is there a reason you’re telling me this?”
“Who’s to say Cassi isn’t doing the same?”
My mouth hung open ready to deliver an answer I wasn’t entirely sure I had to give, but my doorbell rang, interrupting my line of thought. Squeezing the bridge of my nose, I dropped my head back and grunted.
“I’ll get it,” Mason offered, pushing onto his feet before I lifted my head, and relief swept over me. The kid was a riot, but admittedly, I enjoyed his company even if he tried to kill me in my sleep.
Death by popcorn. Would certainly make for an interesting obituary.
My shoulders shook on a silent chuckle, and I winced at the pain exploding in my head. What the hell was I thinking? Alcohol wasn’t going to stop the ache. It may have dulled the pain for a little while, but now I felt worse than I did before I’d brought the bottle to my lips.
And it didn’t help. Nothing had changed.
Cassi had still allowed me to walk out. I still had Adam’s heart. And to top off the entire shitty situation, life had delivered its harshest blow yet.
Feeling completely depleted, I glanced over at the clock. The last couple of weeks had passed in a mindless blur, the days running together as if they didn’t have an end nor a beginning. The small hand rested a few notches before the six, and seeing as Mason was here to collect his weekly pay, it meant it was Friday.
Friday.
I could work with that. At least I hadn’t slept the weekend away.
“There’s some chick at the door.”
“Some chick?” I sat up a little straighter, hating the way my heart sped up in my chest at the possibility that it might be Cassi, as if her mere presence would somehow make my entire world fall back into place. “What does she want?”
“You, obviously.” He gave me a face. “It’s almost dinner time. I need to be getting home.”
“Right.” I forced myself off the couch and gestured toward the kitchen. “My wallet should be on the table. Grab yourself an extra twenty.”
“An extra twenty? Why?”
“For making sure I didn’t keel over.”
Mason grinned.
The smirk I cast him slowly faded as he disappeared into the kitchen, and I stood for a moment, raking my fingers through my messy and uncombed hair. I needed a shower, badly. Pretty sure I smelled worse than Rex’s ass, and that was saying something. Huffing out a sigh at what I knew was my shitty appearance, I treaded toward my front door. The disappointment in my chest, as I realized who actually stood there waiting for me, seeped into my tone. “Vanessa.”
She flashed me a small, insecure smile. “Hi, Sam.”
I rested my forearm on the doorframe, my fingers rubbing the tension from the back of my neck as my right hand tightened on the brass knob, ready to shut her out. “What are you doing here?”
“You haven’t returned my calls, so I decided to stop by instead.”
“Normally, when someone doesn’t return your calls, it’s because they’re not interested.”
She flinched at my retort, those full lips of hers turning down at the corners but quickly recovering. “I get it, okay? But that’s not why I’m here. I’m here because of work, Sam. You have bids coming in left and right, and I don’t know what to tell these people.”
“You could start by giving them my number and telling them we no longer work together.”
Sadness glinted in her big blue eyes, and as her chest rose on a steep inhale, an eruption of guilt spilled into my veins. Guilt I didn’t want to feel when it came to this woman. I had enough damn guilt without any added from her.
“You’re not going to make this easy for me, are you?”
Mason appeared at that exact second, stuffing his money in his pocket at the same time he ducked his scrawny frame under my arm, slipping between my side and the door. “Life’s apparently complicated, lady. Get used to it.”
I bit down on my lips, doing my best to control the laughter working to break free. He was such a smart-ass, but when it wasn’t directed toward me, it amused me, greatly.
“Who is that?”
“Neighbor boy. He walks my dog for me and feeds him when I’m not home.”
“You have a dog?”
I nodded, the realization of how much my life had changed since she’d been a part of it hitting me. “Yeah. I do. I adopted him from the shelter shortly after my transplant. Needed someone to keep me company, seeing as the person I thought would be there was too busy keeping another man’s bed warm.” It was a low jab, and the deliverance made me seem bitter. Truth be told, I was. But not at her. Not at our failed relationship. Our breakup hadn’t been only her fault. It had been mine, too.
“You know what?” She licked her lips and shook her head. “I’m just going to go. I’m sorry I even bothered showing up. If anyone else calls, I’ll make sure to pass them your number. Take care, Sam.” Turning around, she made it two steps across my patio before that guilt was back, gnawing at me from the inside out.
Fuck you, guilt.
“Vanessa, wait.”
Stopping, she glanced over her shoulder, and I sighed in resignation, reluctantly pushing the door open wider.
“Let’s talk.”
Hesitation stole her movements, as if she, too, were contemplating the ramifications, and then she slowly edged toward me. The intoxicating smell of her expensive perfume—a dizzying blend of floral scents—overwhelmed my senses as she squeezed passed me, her softness pressing into my side and my body reacting to her familiarity. I followed behind her, scrubbing a hand down my face as she stood in the center of my living room, her gaze rolling over the empty beer bottles and four-day-old pizza that remained in its greasy box on the coffee table.
Yeah. It was a heart attack waiting to happen. Definitely not one of my finer moments.
“You’re drinking.” It sounded more like a statement than it did a question. Her lips pressed together in disappointment. “You’re not supposed to be drinking, Sam.”
Why didn’t she tell me something I didn’t know? The invitation I’d extended her was to talk, not to be lectured. Pretty sure I’d already had my ass handed to me by a ten-year-old. “It’s been a rough week.”
“A rough week.” She repeated the words, as if they didn’t quite settle in when I’d said them, and shrugged off her coat, draping it over my leather arm chair. “Is that what this is.”
Ignoring the condescension in her voice, I plopped down on my couch. “You wanted to talk, so let’s talk.”
“What’s going on with you?”
“Nothing.” My tone was clipped, my patience thinning. I was exhausted, hungover, and missing Cassi. And I sure as hell didn’t want to talk about any of it.
“Bullshit. This”—she swept her arm across the scene that looked like it belonged in a frat house—“isn’t like you.”
Wasn’t like me? Who was she to determine what was and wasn’t like me? She barely knew me. “Don’t come into my house and act like you know the first thing about me. You don’t. Not anymore.”
Her voice was challenging. “We were together for nearly three years, Sam. Spending eighteen months apart doesn’t suddenly make us strangers.”
In my book, it did. The person I was today was not the same person I was before my transplant. I wasn’t even the same person I was yesterday.
Time changed people.
Life and experience changed people.
“You broke up, didn’t you?”
My attention snapped to hers. “What?”
“You and Cassi. You broke up.” Sympathy cast itself over her features, my silence providing her with the answer she’d already concluded. “I mean this in the nicest way possible, but you look like shit and you smell far worse. Why don’t you go take a shower? I’ll clean up this mess and make you something to eat.”
No. No. I didn’t want to shower, and I didn’t want her to make me something to eat. I wanted her to say what she needed to say so she could leave, and I could return to wallowing in my misery. Alone. “I thought we were talking.”
“We will. While we eat.”
“I don’t need you—”
“Would you stop? Stop. That is your whole problem. You never let anyone help. You never let anyone in. You walk around like you’re strong enough to carry the world, Sam, and the only thing it does is push people away. Stop trying to be a damn knight in shining armor for once in your life and let someone else own the title for a while.”
Occasionally, there were times in your life when it was easier to concede defeat than battle a war you know you’ll never win. This was one of those times. Rising from my spot on the couch, I left her to find her way around my kitchen and headed for a much-needed shower.
When I finished and returned, Vanessa had dinner prepared and portioned on two plates. A glass of water and two Tylenol sat beside mine, a bottle of beer beside hers.
She’s drinking my beer. Why is she drinking my beer?
“There you are. How was your shower?”
“Fine.”
“Do you feel better?”
“Mildly.”
She gave me a roll of her eyes and turned off the oven. “So I’ve been reduced to one-word answers. Fair enough. At least you’re speaking.”
“You’re drinking my beer.”
She shrugged. “It was either that or pour it down the drain. Figured that would be considered alcohol abuse. At least now it’s not going to waste.”
Her words managed to steal a partial smile from me as I pulled out a stool and sat, popping the pills in my mouth and downing the glass of water. I watched as she grabbed a handful of napkins from their home on the counter, passed me a fork, and then joined me.
“It’s nothing special. Just grilled chicken and vegetables.”
“It’s great. Thank you.”
The way she reached up and rubbed her cheek told me she didn’t believe me.
“I mean it, thank you.”
Vanessa gave me a soft nod, pushing her food around on her plate with her fork before finally taking a bite. For the next thirty minutes, we ate dinner mostly in silence, and I began to wonder if we were ever going to talk, and if so, what it was we’d actually discuss. We’d never spoken after I’d discovered her betrayal. The following day, I’d received the life-changing call that a heart had become available. I’d made my way to the hospital and basically cut her out of my life thereafter, as if three years together hadn’t meant anything—and as horrible as it sounded, they hadn’t. Deep down, I think she knew that. So, what was there to say? I didn’t need her explanation as to why she’d had an affair. I didn’t need her apology. I didn’t need anything from her, but I wouldn’t deny having her there was, in some unusual sense, comforting.
After emptying two bottles of beer, she’d finally broke into conversation. She brought up the bids I had coming in. Apparently, I had more than enough work to keep me busy for the next three years, and I wasn’t sure how I felt about it. For now, it was something I’d put off for another day when my mind was less foggy and my future was more clear.
“Tell me about her.”
“What?”
“Cassi. Tell me about her.”
So I did.
As we carried our plates to the sink and washed the dishes together, I told her all about the amazing woman who had owned my heart way before it’d even been placed in my chest. I’d told her how we met and how from the moment I saw her she’d managed to steal my breath, my words. How for the first time in twenty-eight years I truly felt alive, like my life held purpose—meaning.
Vanessa rested against the counter and glanced up at me. “If it’s meant to be, you two will figure it out.”
“Will we?” What she said sounded a lot like it involved that pesky word “fate,” and I refused to put any ounce of hope into something so pretentious.
Her body turned toward mine, and her hand came up, fingers sweeping tenderly along my jaw. I swallowed at her touch, the underlying intimacy that caused a cloud of tension to form in the small space between us.
“Yeah.” She frowned. “You’re one of the good ones, Sam. And as soon as she realizes that, she’ll be back, banging on your door ... just like I was.”
“You banged on my door?”
She smiled sadly. “Almost every day for a month.”
“I didn’t know.” I breathed, speaking the truth. I didn’t know. I’d been in the hospital, recovering with a heart that wasn’t mine, gaining a second chance at a life that I knew now I didn’t deserve.
Vanessa leaned in, her intoxicated gaze concentrated on my lips, and I closed my eyes. Her scent, her familiarity—it was too easy to fall into old habits. She brushed her lips across mine, and for a beat of a second, I almost gave in. I almost kissed her because I was desperate to feel something other than the pain of losing Cassi, but she was wrong. All wrong. Three inches too tall. Hair too blonde. Skin too tanned. She wasn’t her.
She wasn’t who my heart desired.
My hands tightened on her hips. Not to pull her closer, but to push her away. “Don’t.”
Vanessa halted, her eyes flicking open. Blue pools filled with equal parts hurt and repentance stared up at me. “Oh God. I’m sorry.” She staggered back, realizing what she’d been seconds away from trying to do. “I'm so sorry, Sam. I—” Her face twisted.
Ah hell. I knew that look. That was the look of someone who was about to be—
“Oh God, I’m going to be sick.” Vanessa attempted to spin around, not making it a single step before she emptied the contents of her stomach all down the front of our clothing. Rex jumped from his bed, darting in the opposite direction to save himself from the resulting splatter.
Great. At least the dog managed to save himself. Closing my eyes, I blew out an exhausted breath. This was some form of sick punishment, wasn’t it?
Comeuppance for my actions.
Grabbing her shoulders, I whirled her around and guided her in the direction of the bathroom.
Life just kept getting better and better.