Finally Finding Faith (The Reed Brothers) (4 page)

“Sometimes they just give up, Faith.” He starts to tinker with the watch.
“You remember what that was like, don’t you?” He looks into my eyes and then goes back to the watch. “I’d say this one gave up a while ago.” I feel like Granddad is talking about more than the broken timepiece. He’s talking about the man. And I’m afraid he’s right. “What does he have left to live for?” Granddad asks me quietly. His words aren’t more than a breath in the quiet space.

“Can you fix it?” I ask.
“He’s all alone,” I say. I look over at him. He’s stirring.

“You’re never alone, Faith
y. You know this.” He looks up at me with a telling glance.

“I know. But sometimes you can feel like you are.”

He looks up at me over the rims of his glasses. “You’re not talking about yourself are you? Because I will have to take you out to the woodshed if you are.”

I roll my eyes. “You don’t have a woodshed, Granddad.”

“You get the idea,” he growls.

“I was talking about him,” I admit. “But he says he’s going to join his team tomorrow. That’s good, right?”

Granddad nods. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Daniel sit up. He scrubs a hand across his hair and rubs his eyes with the heels of his hands. He pulls his pant leg up and puts his prosthesis back on. Standing up gingerly, he settles his weight onto both limbs. He walks over to us.

“’Morning,” Granddad says. But his attention is on the watch.

“Good morning,” Daniel replies. He looks at me and smiles shyly. It’s really rather endearing, and my heart does this pitter patter thing in my chest that scares me a little.

“Coffee?” I ask.

He nods and looks grateful, so I use the cup I brought down for him earlier and fill it up.

“Black okay?” I ask.

He smiles. “Perfect.” He takes a sip and nods to his watch. “Did you get it to work?”

I bite my lips together and shake my head. “I’m sorry. I took it apart several times, and I can’t find any reason why it’s not working.”

“I always assumed the blast loosened things up inside it.”

I shake my head again.
“Everything is fine on the inside. It’s sound.”

Daniel

My watch
is exactly like me. It’s dead on the inside. And it’s not going to start back up any more than I am.

Henry snaps the back onto the watch and passes it to me. “I’m very sorry, young man,” he says. “I hoped we could help.”

I take it from him and put it back on my arm. “Thank you for trying,” I say. I shake his hand and he grips mine tightly. I reach into my back pocket and pull out my wallet. “How much do I owe you?”

Henry shakes his head. “Not a thing. We couldn’t fix it. You don’t pay.” He nods to me and goes back upstairs.
He turns back at the last minute and says, “Happy new year, son.”

“Thank you, sir,” I say back.
The door closes behind him.

Faith blows out a heavy sigh.
“He looks so tired,” Faith says. “But he keeps going. He never gives up.” She blows out a heavy breath.

“Did you sleep?” I ask.

She shakes her head. “Not yet.”

Her hair is loose around her shoulders, now. Earlier, it was in a messy, beautiful knot on top of her head. She’s wearing jeans and a sweatshirt, and she looks comfortable. I jerk a thumb toward the couch. “I hope it’s okay that I slept on the couch. I woke up and you were gone.”

She smiles. “I just went to check on Nan and take a shower.” She picks up my arm and looks down at my watch, biting her lower lip between her teeth. “I’m sorry I couldn’t fix it. I know it’s important to you.”

I shrug. “It’s not important.” Or at least it won’t be after tonight. “It was one of many things on a list I have to get done today.”

She narrows her eyes at me. “What else is on your list?”

“Just some stupid stuff,” I murmur, more to myself than to her.

“Such as…” She leaves the question hanging in the air between us.

Heat creeps up my cheeks. I don’t know why my list embarrasses me. “I wanted to get a tattoo. So I got one last night.”

“Oh,” she says, brightening visibly. “Can I see?”

My face heats even more. I lift my sleeve t
hough, and let her look at it. Instead of reaching for the tattoo, her fingers tentatively slide down the burns on my forearm, just below it.

“Did this happe
n in Afghanistan?” she asks. Her hand trembles against my skin, and I want to jerk her to me. But I have nothing to offer her. Nothing at all.

I nod. I lift my sleeve a little more, hoping that she’ll stop drawing that little circle on my forearm.  Yet I secretly hope she won’t stop. In fact, I want her to open her hand and press it to my skin.  I want to keep it there. I blow out a breath, and she’s so close to me that her hair raises.

“Nice ink,” she says. I nod and pull my sleeve down.  She grins. “Do you want to see mine?”

She pulls back the sleeve of her sweatshirt and turns her wrist up. She has a small infinity circle on her inner wrist. It’s dainty and girly and fits her.

“Infinite love and gratitude,” she says. She draws out the G hidden in the middle of the tattoo with the tip of her finger so I can see it. The end of the infinity symbol is shaped like a heart. 

“Infinite love and gratitude,” I repeat. This woman chokes me up every fucking time. 
“What are you grateful for?”  I look into her green eyes.

She heaves a sigh. “A better question would be what am I
not
grateful for today.” She starts to clean up her work area.  “I’m grateful I woke up today.” She grins. “Well, yesterday.”

“What else?”  I ask. I hitch my hip on the edge of her table.

She turns around and lifts the hair from the back of her neck. “I have another one here,” she says. She smiles at me from over her shoulder. 

“Another tat?” I ask. I wanted to know what else she was grateful for.

She nods, and I walk closer. I brush the tendrils of hair from the nape of her neck. She shivers lightly, but she’s still smiling.

“A butterfly,” I say. “That’s original.”

“I was eighteen,” she complains. But she’s grinning, so I know she’s not mad.

“A rebellion thing?” I ask.

She nods, and her face flushes. “I got in so much trouble,” she says. Then she blows out a playful breath. “I thought my dad was going to kill me.”

“Do you have any more?” I ask.

Her face flushes. She does.

“Where?” I ask.

“Other places,” she mutters. She suddenly is really interested in cleaning her workspace.

“Like where?” I tease.  My heart feels lighter right now than it has in a really long time. I’m not sure I like it.

“If you must know, I have one on my butt.”

She turns away from me, and all I can do is look at her ass. She does fill out her jeans nicely, but I’m dying to see that tattoo. “Can I see that one?” I ask. A grin tugs at my lips. It’s such a foreign feeling that I don’t know what to do with it. It falls from my lips.

She snorts. “You get many girls out of their pants with that line?” she asks. She pours another cup of coffee for me when she sees me tip my cup up to drink the last drop.

“Thanks,
” I say. I look into her green eyes. “There haven’t been any girls in a long time,” I say. I motion toward my leg. “It took me a while to learn to use this thing.”

“You done learning how to use it yet?” she asks.
She smirks at me over the rim of her mug.

I nod. “As done as I’m going to get.” I let my gaze roam up and down her body, and she glares at me and crosses her arms under her breasts. “Sorry,” I murmur. “I can’t help it if you’re fucking beautiful.”

She grins and blushes and it makes her even prettier. I’m doomed.  Fucking doomed.

“I guess I should let you get back to work,” I say.
“Or to bed. Or whatever it is you do during the day.” I look toward the door. “Do you know what time the street vendors start selling hot chestnuts and hot chocolate?”

Her brow rises. “You eat chestnuts and hot ch
ocolate for breakfast?”

“It’s on my list.” I pull it from my pocket and look down at it. My bucket list is pretty silly now that I think about it. I should probably just go to the hotel and sleep.

She leans over to look at my list. “What else is on it?” Her eyes open wide and she says, “A Broadway play? On New Year’s Eve?”

I nod. 

“Can I go?” she whispers. She grabs my arm and looks into my eyes. “Take me with you?”

Faith

I can’t believe I asked him that.  I want to bite the words back, but they’re already out there.  The look on his face is painful in its intensity. He lifts a brow, tryin
g to act like I haven’t scared him, but I think I did. “You want to go see a Broadway play? With me?”

I nod, biting my lower lip between my teeth. His gaze rakes across my mouth, lingering there, and he presses his lips together.  “I’ve always wanted to go.” I shrug. I’m embarrassed.

“My mother used to take me every year. We would walk around the city and eat hot chestnuts, drink chocolate, and do all the things on my list on New Year’s Eve.” He shrugs, suddenly looking uncomfortable. “I don’t even know what’s playing tonight.”

“Cinderella,” I breathe. “Ro
dgers and Hammerstein’s.” I sometimes feel like Cinderella. I take care of everyone else, but no one takes care of me.  Not anymore. Granddad is busy with Nan, and Nan is too ill to do much more than exist. My parents think I’m invincible, but I need things too. I just don’t want anyone to know it. I wave a breezy hand in the air. “You know what?” I say. “Never mind. It was a silly impulse.”

“Do you need to go and get your purse?” he says. He grins, though, and he has color on his cheeks for the first time since I met him.

I pat my pockets. I have my credit card and my identification. That’s all I ever carry. But I would need something to wear to the theater. “Are you serious?” I ask. “You want me to go with you?”

He shrugs. But he’s still smiling. He looks younger when he smiles. And he’s so handsome that he takes my breath. “Do I need to ask your granddad’s permission?” he whispers playfully.

I nod. He probably does. He sits back, looking down his nose at me like he’s startled.

“I do, don’t I?” he asks.

I nod again. “It’s the gentlemanly thing to do,” I say playfully.

“Damn, you’re going to make me work for it,” he mutters. But he’s still smiling.

Yes, I’m making him work for it. Because he needs to work for something he wants. “Can you come upstairs while I get a few things together?” I ask. I watch his face. I’m still not sure if he wants me to go or if he’s humoring me.

He nods and grins, shaking his head. But he starts up the stairs.  When he gets to the top, he stops. “Should I knock?” he asks.

I reach by him to turn the nob, and he weaves a little, unsteady on the stairs. Oh, shit. I just made him walk up the stairs on his prosthetic leg. I’m an idiot. He inhales as he reaches for the rail behind me. He closes his eyes and a little hum vibrates past his lips. I look up at him. He’s sniffing me? I freeze, and just watch his face. He looks peaceful.  My heart starts to skitter when he opens his brown eyes and stares into mine.

“You just
smelled me,” I whisper.

“Yep,” he says. He grins. He looks more boyish than he has since he came into the shop and my heart trips.  His voice is soft when he replies. “You smell nice.”

“Nice?” I snort. “Just what every girl wants to hear.”

He grins. “What?” he asks. “Nice is good.”

“Babies smell nice.” I scrunch up my face. “Public restrooms smell nice.”

He chuckles. “I think your definition of nice is very different from mine.” He scrubs a hand down his face, like he’s wiping a smile away.

I poke a finger into his chest. “What’s so amusing?” I ask.

“Babies stink. And so do public restrooms.” He leans forward, and I feel his breath, hot and humid against
the side of my neck. Wind moves by my ear, and he inhales deeply. His voice is harsh when he says close, “You’re right. You don’t smell nice at all. You smell fucking hot.” His nose brushes the side of my neck with gentle little sweeps] and goose bumps erupt on my arms.

“Hot?” I breathe. Well, I sort
of breathe it. It’s more like I choke it out. Like a kid who hocks out a hot dog bit that gets stuck in his throat.

He shakes his head. “No. I said fucking hot.” He leans close to me again and closes his eyes, inhaling deeply.

“It’s antiperspirant and coffee,” I say. I cough into my closed fist, because my throat is tight.

He shakes his head. “It’s you.” He looks into my eyes.

Suddenly the door to the upstairs opens, and I almost fall into the room. But Granddad reaches for me and steadies me. “You two going to do it on the stairs, or you coming inside?” he asks. He taps his foot. I can tell he’s annoyed. But he’s still being nice. For now. He glares at Daniel. “I thought you said goodbye a few minutes ago.”