Beastly (The Ever After Collection) (10 page)

But Heath didn’t sound
right
. He sounded half-frustrated, half-resigned.

And then it hit her.

Of course Heath knew that the report was finished. But
maybe
he had been as busy trying to think up a logical reason to see her as she’d been trying to think up one to see him.

Maybe
he wanted to get together with her on Saturday even though they didn’t have a project to work on.

And she’d just rejected him.

“Wait!” Emma shouted before Heath could do something impulsive like hang up the phone. “I mean, we could practice presenting the project,” she offered tentatively, hoping she was right about his motives, but as willing to use the project as an excuse as he was.

“Okay,” he agreed, and a smile began inching its way up Emma’s face. “But…” and then it was swiftly wiped off again. “Maybe we could work at my… well, at the Potter’s house instead.”

The suggestion was as unexpected as it was welcome. Emma hadn’t been completely sure if Heath had known that she was aware of his home situation. Sure, she’d sort of
assumed
that he knew she knew that he was currently staying with the Potters as their foster kid, but they’d never outright talked about it. The fact that he was inviting her over to the Potter’s house – even if she
had
been over there many times in the past to babysit Charlie – seemed significant. She couldn't say why precisely, but it caused something she hadn’t even known had been tight in her chest to loosen.

“Yes!”

Silence.

Perhaps she’d been a tad too exuberant.

“I mean, that sounds great,” Emma amended, dragging a hand across her eyes in mortification.

What was wrong with her?

“The usual time?” Heath asked after a minute.

“Sure,” she agreed, but said nothing else in an effort to exert a little control over her mouth.

“Alright. I… I’ll see you then I guess.”

“Okay.” She paused. “Sleep well, Heath,” she offered timidly.

Emma almost thought Heath had hung up on her. But then… “You too, Emma,” he said in a tone gentler than she’d ever heard from him before. A moment later, the dial tone rang in her ear, and Emma, with a soft smile stretched across her face, reluctantly ended the call. And if she wore that smile around the rest of the night until she went to bed at ten, no one had to know.

Unfortunately, by morning time, Emma’s internal excitement had turned into something more closely resembling anxiety. Rationally, she knew she had no reason to be nervous. She’d been to the Potters’ home countless times before in order to watch Charlie. But it wasn’t the Potters who made her feel positively jittery with suppressed nerves. It was Heath.

Forcing herself to wait until noon to leave, she grabbed their completed poster board before bundling up in a heavy cream sweater
and
an oversized winter jacket to jog outside and start her truck. Shortly after, she was on her way to Heath’s. She reached the Potters’ two story colonial house, located on the very fringe of Maple Valley, in a matter of minutes. Taking just a minute to check the mirror and make sure that the haphazard braid she’d thrown her hair into was still successfully holding back her thick mane, she stepped out of her truck and hurried to the Potters’ front door.

Her knuckles hadn’t even had a chance to rap on the wooden door more than once before it was forcefully pulled open.

“Emma!” A pair of strong arms wrapped themselves around her waist, and an involuntary smile pulled at Emma’s lips as she took in her pint-sized welcomer.

“Charlie,” she greeted him warmly. “It’s good to see you too.”

She glanced past the little cherub to see Heath, arms crossed over his chest and looking a mix of amused and irritated. “Get off her, Charlie.”

Emma couldn't stop the surprised laughter from escaping when Charlie shot Heath a dark look over his shoulder. “Make me,” he said, sticking his tongue out at his foster brother.

Emma was watching Heath’s reaction closely enough that her brown eyes immediately zeroed in on the frustrated tick of his jaw. The tiny movement really shouldn’t have been as attractive as it was.

Before Heath could respond, however, Mrs. Potter breezed into the room. “For goodness sake, Charlie, listen to Heath and let Emma go,” she scolded. “She’s his guest today.”
Was it Emma’s imagination or did the woman sound particularly pleased about that?
“And let her inside,” Mrs. Potter added. “You’re freezing poor Emma, making her stand out in the cold like that.”

“Sorry,” Charlie apologized, looking contrite as he released her and scooted back far enough so that she was able to step into the house and shut the door behind her.

“It’s okay,” Emma assured him, right as Heath muttered, “You should be, you little goblin.”

Charlie shot Heath a particularly impressive pout. “You’re just jealous that I got to hug her,” he declared, more than a touch of arrogance in his voice.

“Charlie!” Heath scolded as flames licked up Emma’s face. He turned to her. “Sorry about him.”

Emma shrugged, pressing the back of her hands to her cheeks and willing her heated blush to vanish. “It’s okay. I’m pretty familiar with Charlie’s antics. I used to babysit him a lot.”

“Yeah, I’ve heard all about that,” Heath said, rolling his eyes. “You do realize that he has an enormous crush on you, right?”

Emma fought to contain her laughter when Charlie huffed from where he was still standing nearby. He regarded his foster brother with betrayed eyes.

“It’s cute,” she assured him, running a hand through the eight year old’s hair. Charlie practically preened.

Heath snorted, raising an eyebrow and looking unimpressed. “Maybe to you. You don’t have to listen to him go on and on about ‘Oh, Emma’s so smart!’ and ‘Isn’t Emma the prettiest girl you’ve ever seen?’”

Charlie stomped his foot on the ground. “You think she’s pretty too!” he accused. “You said so!”

So much for her blush going away anytime soon.

Heath looked embarrassed as well, a faint redness crawling up own his neck as he scowled at his foster brother. “Jesus, Charlie, can’t you go help your mom in the kitchen or something?”

Mrs. Potter must have heard him from where she’d disappeared into said kitchen because her voice soon traveled from the room to join Heath’s. “I’m making cookies!” she called. “Don’t you want a taste of the batter, Charlie?”

Charlie looked unsure, but the promise of Mrs. Potter’s baking must have been too much to resist because his tiny shoulders drooped in defeat. “Fine,” he muttered before sulking from the room.

Heath glanced at Emma uncertainly before picking up the poster board that she had dropped in surprise when Charlie had thrown himself at her. “Did you want to work in my room?” he asked.

“That sounds fine,” Emma assured him, hoping her voice didn’t come across as timid as she suddenly felt.

Heath led her up the flight of stairs located on the right side of the Potter’s living room. She followed him down the long upstairs hallway until they reached the second door on the left. He pulled the door open and ushered her inside, stepping in after her and shutting the door.

Apparently, Mrs. Potter didn’t enforce the same old-fashioned rules as her dad.

Emma took her time to look around Heath’s room. It was… nice.

The room was spacious, much larger than Emma’s own bedroom. The walls were covered in pale paint, the floor in beige carpet. Pushed up against the back wall in the middle of the room was a large bed over which lay a dark blue comforter. A flat screen TV was mounted on the wall across from it. The only other pieces of furniture in the room were an oak dresser and nightstand, neither of which displayed any pictures. In fact, there were no personal effects lying out anywhere. The room, as nice as it was with the big TV and connected private bathroom, left Emma feeling strangely disappointed.

Because the room told her absolutely nothing about Heath himself.

“So… what do you think?” Heath asked from behind her, bringing Emma back to the present.

She turned to face him and felt herself soften as she took in his expectant, almost nervous expression. “It’s really nice,” she assured him. And it
was.
Emma had just been looking forward to learning more about Heath was all. And his bedroom provided no clues whatsoever.

Heath nodded, running one of his hands through his messy hair. “Mrs. Potter said I should have invited you over sooner.”

Oh.

Stupid, illogical hurt welled within her. “I see.” She sat down on his mattress.

Heath frowned, his eyes darting to hers. He sighed in frustration, obviously sensing the abrupt change in her mood. And the reason for it. “No, I mean… I wanted to invite you,” he said. “It’s just that I… I mean… I’ve never asked anyone to come over to anywhere I’ve lived before. I guess I haven’t wanted to… until now,” he finished quietly.

Feeling equal parts foolish and elated, Emma didn’t even care that her face was probably as painfully red as a tomato. She was just so pleased that Heath was finally sharing something about himself. It didn’t look like she’d be going home empty handed in her quest to learn more about him after all.

“Well, I’m glad you did,” she offered shyly.

Heath smiled, the genuine show of happiness making her heart swell. “Me too.” He sat down beside her.

Emma bit her bottom lip, chewing on the abused flesh as she debated whether or not she dared to ask Heath anything more. Figuring that the worst he could do was shut her down if she did, Emma took a chance. “Have you lived many places before here?” she asked cautiously, prepared to withdraw the question if Heath so much as frowned.

But he didn’t seem upset by her curiosity. “A few,” he answered.

Emma took a deep breath.

In for a penny, in for a pound.

“Like?” she prodded.

Heath shrugged. “Most of the families I’ve stayed with have been from the suburbs. A few smaller towns, too, though this is by far the…
quaintest
one I’ve lived in. It’s nowhere near as large as Minneapolis, anyway, where I’m originally from.”

Emma tried not to think about how many new families, how many new schools that meant for Heath. About how many years it implied he’d been in the system. “Minneapolis? Wow, I bet it’s a lot different from here,” she offered neutrally instead.

Heath smirked. “You have no idea.”

“So tell me then.”

Heath searched her eyes, debating, it seemed, whether Emma was truly interested in what he had to say or was just humoring him.

But how could anyone not be interested in this boy?

He must have found what he was looking for because he licked his lips and started talking. “People there don’t give a rat’s ass about you,” he said bluntly. “Not a single person will look at you twice. It makes it easy to blend in, become a shadow. I didn’t mind it, actually. I don’t like people looking.”

A concerned frown tugged at the corners of Emma’s mouth. What did Heath mean that he didn’t like people looking? She enjoyed her privacy as much as the next person, but to be made to feel invisible? That didn’t sound like much fun at all.

“You must not like it here very much then. In Maple Valley, I mean,” Emma said. “Everyone seems to have their nose in everyone else’s business.”

Heath hummed at her observation. “It’s not so bad.”

Emma smiled. “Yeah?”

“It’s my favorite of all the places I’ve been, I think,” he confirmed.

“Really?
Why?
It can’t be the scenery.” The snow that had begun piling up the past week had its own beauty, of course, but it wore thin after the white stuff decided to stick around month after month without fail every year.

Heath stared at her like she was some complex puzzle he couldn't quite figure out. “You really don’t know,” he said after a moment, disbelief saturating his voice.

Emma frowned. “Know what?”

Heath’s eyes bore into hers, imploring Emma to figure it out. She stared back in confusion until his baby blues flickered from her brown orbs to her pink lips.

And just like that, Emma knew.

She
was the reason that he liked it here.

Trying to ignore the way that her heart was suddenly threatening to beat out of her chest, Emma continued to look into Heath’s eyes as he inched closer. She wondered vaguely if her pupils were as blown wide as his were. She took in the regal line of his nose and the little scar near his left eyebrow that she’d never noticed before and wondered what his eyes were seeing as he inched closer still. The smattering of tiny freckles across the bridge of her nose? The thick eyelashes that surrounded her own, much duller, pair of eyes?

And then she wasn’t wondering anything at all. Because his lips were a hair’s breath away from connecting with hers. And then…

Knock. Knock. Knock.

“Heath! Emma!”

Emma jumped and jerked away from Heath at the sudden vigorous pounding on the bedroom door and the childish voice that accompanied it.