Fumbled Hearts (A Tender Hearts Novel) Page 12

  “Kalani.” His voice sounds pained and that has me ready to flash.

  A major factor as to why I don’t talk about things is because I can’t stand pity. I don’t need it and I don’t want it.

  However, when I flip around to give him a mouthful, my eyes widen.

  His eyes are lasered in on my thighs, his chest heaving, causing my breathing to speed up.

  His gaze slowly rakes up my body, his perfect teeth sinking into his lower lip as those hungry eyes meet mine.

  Oh lordy, no...

  I am far too exposed for this Nate to come out and play.

  With a strangled breath, I tell him, “You should go.”

  His eyes narrow in challenge; a hint of a smirk he doesn’t dare let slip on his lips.

  He sees it, damn it. He knows the last thing on my mind is him leaving, what with my body trembling, nipples poking out to say ‘hey’, and boobs bouncing around because I’m breathing so fast.

  Yeah, fucker. You get me going.

  He takes a step closer.

  I take a step back.

  “You want me to go?” he whispers. I think. That, or my blood is pumping at a dangerous rate because I swear his voice is silky, sexy smooth. The kind of voice that makes you stop in your tracks and rethink everything.

  “I’ll go,” he rasps.

  Oh, thank God…

  “If,” he adds quickly when he sees my relief.

  Now the bastard smirks.

  “Quid pro quo, how nice of you,” I deadpan, causing him to laugh.

  “Make me breakfast Sunday and I’ll go.”

  “Deal,” I don’t hesitate, just stomp to the door. Anything to get him out of here.

  He chuckles and smacks my ass on his way out. “Night, Gorgeous.”

  Even though I roll my eyes, there’s a small smile on my lips. “Night, Handsome.”

  “So,” Nate finishes off his last piece of bacon. “You ignored my call yesterday.”

  “No I didn’t.” I set my dish in the sink. “I turned my phone off so I could sleep.”

  He nods. “So, you didn’t do anything fun? Didn’t go out with Mia?”

  “Did you see me at the party?” I raise an eyebrow.

  He shrugs and looks away from me. “I didn’t go to the party. Stayed in,” he tells me, rolling his shoulder around.

  I sigh and walk out of the kitchen. “Go sit on the couch and take off your shirt. I’ll be right back.”

  He chokes on his coffee, and turns to me. “What?”

  I roll my eyes as I pass him, heading down the hall. “Nike.”

  “Again, what?”

  “Just do it!” I laugh.

  My kit in hand, I walk back into the living room, finding Nate right where I told him to be.

  Hovering over his form, I purse my lips.

  “What?” he asks.

  “Okay, so maybe the no shirt thing was a bad idea.”

  When I lick my lips, he quirks an eyebrow.

  “And why is that?” he teases, brown eyes gleaming.

  “Duh! Because all of that,” I throw my hand out, “is distracting.”

  He laughs and it’s really not fair how every muscle tightens and become more defined as he does.

  I frown. “Sit on the floor, your back against the foot of the couch.”

  With a grin, he does as he was told.

  Once he’s situated, I climb in behind him and place my legs on either side, careful to keep them from pressing against his tanned skin.

  Oil in hand, I squirt some into the bowl and stir in the crushed lavender leaves. I snap the heat pads and set them aside.

  “Okay.” I knock his arms off his knees and he chuckles. “Sit still and keep your arms at your sides.”

  He shifts so he can place his arms on the floor under each of my legs.

  After I apply a generous amount of the concoction to his shoulder, I set the bowl down and begin rubbing it in.

  I don’t miss Nate’s sharp intake of breath the moment my hand comes down on him.

  I rub it all around, covering him in it from his right shoulder blade to the nape of his neck and half way down his upper arm. Then, I begin to gently massage him, my fingers strumming across the top of his strong shoulder, each one applying a different amount of pressure.

  His chin drops to his chest.

  After a few minutes, I replace my hands with the heating pad, and start working his bicep the same way.

  “What is it?” he asks, his voice low and raspy.

  “Lavender and oil.”

  “What’s it do?”

  I smile. “It’s a natural anti-inflammatory. Has some element that relates to the symptomatic nervous system.” Releasing his bicep, I study the structure of his back. “It, uh, helps bring muscles back to their proper form, has a calming element in it that increases blood flow, yada, yada.”

  I can’t stop myself from running a finger down his strong spine. As soon as my finger leaves his skin, his fingers run up my calves, and he begins working my muscles with his firm hands.

  I flatten my palm against his lower back, apply a little pressure, then slowly run them up. Reaching his shoulders, I glide them over his collarbone, careful not to knock off the heating pad on the right, and push against his pecs with the pads of my fingers.

  He looks at me over his shoulder for a moment before closing his eyes and facing forward again.

  Pulling my hands back, I begin kneading the trigger points at the base of his skull.

  “Mmm…” he moans and my core heats.

  My body moves on its own accord, leaning in to kiss his spine as my fingers ghost down his arms and across the side of his ribs.

  A smile twitches my lips when his body shudders at the feeling.

  “You know," I whisper near his ear, "I totally get why you acted like such a cocky shit when I first met you.”

  His taut body shakes, his husky laughter flowing through him. “Oh yeah?”

  I lean back so I can get the full view. “Oh, yeah. I mean, I can only see your back right now, and the thoughts running through my mind...” I laugh because it’s ridiculous, but true.

  After a few seconds, he responds, his voice low, deeper than usual. “Good to know.”

  I go back to massaging his shoulders.

  “So-” I’m cut off when my phone beeps on the table.

  “Check that for me, please,” I ask him.

  His head whips around. “Huh?”

  I widen my eyes and lift my oil-clad hands. “Can you check that for me? I can’t exactly grab it.” I wiggle my fingers at him.

  His furrows his brows, nodding. “Just so we’re clear, though, you want me to check it, right? As in, read it? Not just hand it to you?”

  I gape at him.

  “Hey,” he defends. “Most people don’t like, or want, other people even touching their phones.” His eyes widen to make his point. “And by most people, I mean everyone.”

  I stare at him blankly.

  “What?” He cracks a smile, an adorable innocent one.

  “Check the damn thing and turn around.” I shove his head playfully, making him laugh. “You’re messing up my mojo.”

  I hear the smile in his voice. “Wow, not even a password, huh?”

  “Nope.”

  He shakes his head. “It’s programmed under Speed.” He looks at me expectantly over his shoulder.

  “Oh, shit.” My shoulders slump and I glance at the ceiling. “I forgot.” I lift my chin, trying to see the screen over Nate’s massive shoulders.

  “What’d he say?” I ask him, even though he’s still looking at me. “What?”

  “You said he. Who is it?” he probes.

  My brows lift. “Oh, we’re doing this?” I move my hand between the two of us.

  He stares at me.

  “Okay.” I reach over and remove the heat pad from his right shoulder, and turn his head so he’s once again facing forward. “Think about it. Who’s the quickest to get into the backfie
ld?” I smirk, even though he can’t see me.

  Not a second later, his body tenses. “Hollins,” he grounds out in whisper, though, I’m pretty sure he’s talking to himself.

  “Ding, Ding.”

  He cuts me an irritated look and I watch his jaw shift to the right as he turns around.

  “So, what’d he say?” I try blowing a piece of hair out of my face.

  “He wants to know … if you’re still meeting for lunch today.” His voice is stiff.

  With the cloth I brought out, I wipe off Nate’s shoulder. “Tell him, yeah. I’ll meet him at Wicker at one.”

  Nate releases my legs and turns his body so quickly, I have no time to react. He’s now on his knees, facing me as I sit on the couch.

  “Hi,” I taunt, biting my lip to keep from laughing at how bent out of shape he seems.

  His eyes narrow to slits. Placing his palms on the cushions he cages me in, and crouches into my space, his face set in stone. “I’m not telling Jarrod you’ll meet him.”

  “Alright.” Shrugging, I hold out my hand, palm up. “Hand me my phone, would ya?”

  He shakes his head back in forth. Slowly.

  “No?” I raise an eyebrow.

  A dangerous smirk forms on his lips and before I can process it, his arm is wrapped around my back and I’m flush against his bare chest.

  Leaning in, he slides his lips over mine, his dark, igneous eyes burning into me. Teasing me.

  I don’t like to be teased.

  Right as he goes to pull back, I wrap my legs around his back and smash my lips into his. And when I bite down on his bottom lip for punishment, he growls and forces my mouth open for him.

  His tongue brushes mine with perfect precision.

  I scoot in closer, pressing my pelvis against his waist, and his hands find my hair. He pulls gently, earning a moan from me.

  When my phone beeps again, he pulls back and glances at it, then back at me.

  I wait, panting, while he works through his thoughts.

  I know he’s figured it out when he lets out an irked breath. “You’re going to lunch with Jarrod.”

  It’s not a question.

  “I am,” I breathe out, still trying to recover from that kiss, all the while wanting to go at it again.

  His brows pull together and his lips flatten.

  He stands and puts a hand out for me. When I place my hand in his, he pulls me up, looking down at me with unreadable eyes. He reaches behind him, picks up my phone, and places it in my palm.

  I smile at him and open the new message.

  Speed: don’t bail. I know you had fun last time.

  Nate scoffs. “He's a jackass.”

  I just laugh and text Jarrod back, letting him know I’m not bailing and I’ll be there by one.

  My phone beeps instantly.

  Speed: there she is. One’s good.

  Not bothering to reply, I toss my phone on the couch behind me.

  Nate’s still standing in front of me, so I pat his chest. “I gotta get ready.” I circle my hand around my face.

  “You’re not wearing any makeup.” He inspects, in wonderment.

  I laugh. “That I’m not.”

  I watch his face soften as he studies my features, taking in every inch.

  I don’t think I like it.

  Before I can move, his lips lift into a half-smile that roots me in place.

  With his eyes following his hand, he reaches up and brushes my still wet hair behind my ear. Though they’re not looking into mine, I don’t miss the fascination shining within them.

  Something stirs in my chest, tightening, making it hard for me to breathe. It’s a foreign feeling I can’t explain, and completely unwelcome.

  Quickly, I slip past him, and walk to the bar to clean up. I don’t have to look to know he’s following me. I can feel him.

  Oh, don’t be dumb.

  “You need some help?” he asks.

  I don’t look at him. “No, I’m good. It’ll only take a minute.”

  He’s quiet for a moment before his response. “Alright.”

  “Your shoulder shouldn’t give you any more trouble.” I laugh. “Well, until after tomorrow’s practice, that is.” I look over at him to find him moving toward me, his shirt in his hand, allowing me another look.

  Goddamn, he’s pristine.

  His eyes shift back and forth between mine. I’m not sure what he sees, but his eyes take on a mischievous glint.

  “What are you up to?” I narrow my eyes in question.

  He smirks, leans down to kiss me on my cheek, and whispers, “Thank you for breakfast, Kalani.”

  Lips pursed, I cross my arms, and tilt my head to the side.

  He chuckles and walks toward the door.

  “Bye, Handsome,” I call out from the kitchen.

  “Bye’s not gonna work for me, Kalani,” he says in a smooth and unwavering voice.

  My entire body turns to stone.

  “See you soon.” This is the last thing I hear before the door closes and my body collapses to the floor.

  All I can see are white walls.

  I hear her. She’s calling my name.

  “Kalani.”

  Her voice…it’s soft, just like I remember.

  “Kalani.”

  Only she sounds clearer now, not muffled by bad reception.

  It’s nice.

  “Kalani!”

  Why is she shouting?

  Slowly, I open my eyes to see the fuzzy image of my mother kneeling in front of me.

  With a shaky hand, I reach out and touch her cheek. “Mom?” I whisper.

  “Oh, honey...” she breathes, her voice breaking.

  Her face is still blurry, but I can make out her slim figure.

  Her hair, long and dark, lays straight against her shoulders. Squinting, I see a flash of crystal blue eyes before losing focus again.

  Shaking my head, I blink rapidly.

  When she’s still there, still kneeling in front of me, panic takes over and I fly to my feet, frantically looking around.

  Burgundy walls. Not white.

  The moment my eyes land on her, they harden.

  “Kalani...” Her head tilts as she puts her hands out in front of her, slowly moving to stand. “Honey, I-”

  “Stop talking!” I shout, my palms flying to my temple, eyes closed tight. Taking a calming breath, I drop my hands, straighten my spine, and lock eyes with her. “How did you get in here?” I snarl.

  If Mia-

  “I knocked,” she rushes out nervously. “When you didn’t answer, I got worried and tried the knob.” She looks down at the tile. “It was unlocked.”

  There’s a desperate look in her eyes.

  “I know I shouldn’t have just walked in, and I was going to turn around and leave, but the light was on.” She looks at the ceiling. “Then I saw you lying there...” She motions with shaky hands to the spot on the floor.

  When I give a sharp nod, she smiles weakly, and I have to look away.

  “Kalani, talk to me,” she whispers and I want to scream. “Please.”

  “I can’t,” I murmur to the ground. “I can’t talk to you. I can’t even look at you. I’m sorry, but all you are is a constant reminder.”

  “But-”

  “I can’t!” I shout. “Please, just... go.” Desperate for something to hold onto, I turn and grab ahold of the countertop, squeezing until my knuckles turn white.

  I don’t let go until I hear the front door close.

  Run. I need to run.

  I rush to the door, but stop short. “Shit.” I don’t have time before I have to meet Jarrod.

  Music is my only option.

  I storm into my room, blast Linkin Park’s “Numb” as loud as my speakers will let me and get ready for my ‘date’ with Jarrod.

  As I enter the bathroom, I flinch at my own reflection.

  Long dark hair.

  Bright blue eyes.

  I look just like her.

/>   “Ugh!” I grunt out. This is so stupid. This is why I didn’t want to come here. I don’t need this shit.

  I was fine.

  I’ve been fine.

  I am fine.

  Plugging in my curling iron, I let it heat, while I start on my makeup.

  In the beginning, when everything went to shit, everyone thought I’d be depressed, suicidal.

  I let out a humorless laugh.

  When that didn’t happen, they thought I was hiding behind my pain. Living in denial. They thought I’d come unhinged at any moment. That my emotions would eventually win out and destroy me.

  They were wrong.

  So wrong.

  What the counselors and psychologists and psychiatrists failed to realize is my emotions could never pull me under.

  It’s simply not possible.

  My emotions could never take over, never swallow me whole.

  No.

  What they failed to realize is you can’t be depressed or suicidal or in pain, and you sure a shit can’t break, if your emotions themselves are... lifeless.

  Empty.

  Sure, I laugh and smile and enjoy myself. And yes, I’m fully capable of getting excited, or becoming aroused. But I don’t feel it. Not on the inside anyway. Not where it counts.

  I don’t get sensations deep within myself that cause distress or discomfort, or anything else for that matter.

  Common conceptions don’t apply to me; they don’t affect me.

  I don’t get jealous. I don’t feel humiliation or compassion or love. Hell, I don’t even feel alive most of the time. It’s all skin deep. Fun and free-spirited. It is what it is and nothing more. And I love it. It’s perfect.

  A beautiful simplicity of nothingness.

  The ultimate escape.

  As soon as I step foot in Wicker, Ryan catches my eye and motions for me to hold still. He delivers a tray of drinks to one of his tables and jogs over to me.

  “Hey, Lolli.” He smiles, resting his hands on the black apron at his waist. “I knew you couldn’t stay away,” he teases.

  “It’s all about the food, Wicker.”

  He laughs. “Jarrod said you’re meetin’ him. Back corner booth. I’ll grab you a drink.”

  I lift my hand in thanks as I make my way over.

  I’m almost to the table when Jarrod’s head lifts and he spots me.