Fleeting Moments (12 page)

“Stop smiling,” he mumbles, walking into my bathroom.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” I huff.

He slaps my ass.

I can’t help it. I giggle.

And it feels amazing because it feels like it’s been forever since that’s happened.

Forever.

~*~*~*~

“I
can’t believe we’re doing this,” I mumble against Heath’s skin later that night as we lie in bed.

“Stop overthinking it.”

“Everyone in my life thinks you’re imaginary, you disappear more than you’re around, yet here I am in bed with you. Something is very wrong with this picture.”

“Yeah. You overthinking it.”

I roll my eyes, even though he can’t see.

“Don’t roll your eyes.”

I push up and stare down at him. “How do you know I rolled my eyes?”

“I could feel it.”

I snort. “Whatever. Are you some sort of super spy or something?”

He grins.

I put my head back against his chest. “Seriously, how do you always know where I am?”

“I have eyes on you.”

I screw up my nose. “You have eyes on me? What kind of eyes? Your eyes?”

He grunts. “No. Not always. Mostly other people’s.”

“Other people? Who?” I cry, pushing up again.

He scans my face, and his grin turns into a smile. “I have people that are willing to help me.”

I huff. “Can’t you just tell me what it is you’re doing?”

He loses his smile. “I wish I could, believe me, but I can’t right now. I’m in too deep.”

“So am I.”

His hand travels up my spine, stopping between my shoulder blades. “No, you’re not. You’re going to stay out of this.”

“That girl is scared and alone, not to mention all the others who are probably in there. I can’t just stay out of it, Heath. They need help.”

“And that’s what I’m working on. If you interfere, you could make it worse.”

“Then let me help.”

His eyes harden. “No fucking way.”

“Please, let me help. I can do something. I can get information . . .”

“No, you can’t. They know who you are now after your little song and dance in the mall. There is no way you can be seen anywhere near it or me again.”

I swallow the tight lump forming in my throat. “So what? I’m just a booty call for you then? Someone you see when you feel like it?”

He sighs and moves his hand higher, fisting my hair. “Don’t do that. You know you mean more to me, Lucy. I wish I could see you more, too.”

“At least give me a way to contact you,” I plead. “If you want me to stop looking and stop involving myself, then you need to give me something.”

“Fuck, you’re a pain in the ass. You were sweet once, I’m sure.”

I smile.

He cups my face. “Fine. I’ll give you a cell number you can call me on, but be aware it’s off a lot and I won’t always answer.”

My smile gets bigger.

His gaze drops to it. “Fuck. Come here and give me those lips again. I’m not done with them.”

I drop down and give him my lips again for a long, long time.

When we pull apart we’re both panting. “Is it too soon for more?” I gasp.

He grins. “I’ve fucked you twice, honey. Give it a bit longer.”

My eyes drop to his exposed chest. God, he’s beautiful.

“Okay,” I murmur.

He moves quickly, flipping me over and pinning my back against the mattress.

“I thought you needed time,” I say, my voice soft and low, seductive, even to my own ears.

“Oh, I do—but that doesn’t mean I can’t make you whimper my name again.”

I swallow and look up at him through my lashes. “Oh yeah?”

He slides down my body, taking hold of my knees and gently pushing them apart. “Oh yeah,” he murmurs, right before he presses his mouth between my legs.

Oh. My.

“L
ucy!”

Pounding on my front door wakes me from my sleep, and it takes a few minutes for me to come to. I’m in Heath’s arms. His big body is hot and solid, securing me in. I don’t want to move; I want to stay here all day with him. But whoever is at the door isn’t going to let that happen.

I get out of bed and push to my feet, running my fingers through my hair and listening.

“Lucy!”

Gerard.

Shit.

My heart pounds as I turn, shoving Heath’s shoulder. He wakes up with a grunt and looks over to me, the expression on his face shows he is less than impressed. “What?”

“Gerard is here. I have to go answer the door.”

I don’t give him any chance to reply. I just pull on a robe and rush out of the room, slamming the door behind me. I run down the stairs and to the front door, swinging it open to see Gerard and Heather standing there, looking pissed.

“Thanks for the wake-up call,” I mumble. “What’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong is you requesting more than we agreed on in the settlement,” Heather snaps.

I glare at her. “I’m sorry, when did Gerard forget how to speak for himself? If you don’t mind, I’ll discuss this with him and not you. Last time I checked, we were never married.”

She scowls at me.

I turn to Gerard. “You couldn’t have phoned me?”

“I tried,” he mutters, looking tired. “You didn’t answer.”

“So you came to my house and woke me up early in the morning?”

“It’s ten a.m.”

Oh.

“Well, I can’t discuss it right now,” I say, glancing behind me.

“Have you got someone in there?” he demands.

I turn to him. “I have a visitor, yes.”

“Who? Is it your imaginary friend?” Heather scoffs.

Gerard snorts.

That makes me angry. So angry. I cross my arms, and even though Heath has asked me not to, I snap, “Yes, actually.”

Gerard’s eyes flare, and he shoves past me, Heather in tow. I let them. I hope they go up there and find my naked man in bed, looking as gorgeous as he is, then they’ll wish they’d never doubted me. I follow them up the stairs, a grin on my face, and enter the room.

Gerard turns to face me. “There’s no one here?”

I narrow my eyes, and look around him. The bed is made. There is not a trace of Heath.
Fucking. Asshole.

“He was here all night,” I say, rushing into the bathroom and shoving the door open. Not a trace.

“I see you still haven’t gotten help,” Heather snaps. “I think we need to mention that to the lawyers. She’s asking for more than she’s entitled to, but until she gets help, I think we should definitely fight it.”

Gerard looks sadly at me. “I agree.”

“I’m only asking to keep my car!” I cry.

“The car that belongs to Gerard,” Heather points out. “It’s in his name.”

“He has a work car.”

“We’re not discussing this with you,” she hotly informs me, crossing her arms.

“Gerard,” I croak, looking to him. “Surely you’re not going to be this cruel.”

He looks miserable. “Listen, I need the car okay? I don’t want this to get messy, Lucy. I care about you enough to not want that.”

“You’re supposed to love me.”

“Yeah,” he says. “And you’re supposed to love me but you just happily told me you were sleeping with someone else, real or not.”

He has a point.

“I don’t want this to get ugly, please. We spent so long together; we loved each other so fully. Can we end this . . . cordially?”

He opens his mouth to speak, but Heather cuts him off. “We’re not discussing this any further.”

“Gerard,” I whisper.

“Sorry, Lucy, I think she’s right. I think you need help. I’m really worried about you.”

I study him. “Please leave my house.”

“If you just give me the car, I’ll—”

“Leave, Gerard. Go ahead and do whatever you think you have to. That’s my car, and I have no money to buy another one.”

“But—”

“Leave or I’ll call the police.”

“Let’s go, Gerard,” Heather says, snatching his arm into hers and pulling him out of the room.

I watch him go, my eyes holding his. He looks like he wants to say something more, but he doesn’t. Once again, he lets his sister speak for him.

When they’re gone and I hear the front door slam, I turn and study the room. I walk over to the bed and jerk the covers back.  A small note flutters out. I pick it up, staring down at the neat but masculine handwriting.

Sorry, Lucy girl, I couldn’t stay.

I’d bet about fifty that you brought them upstairs to prove a point?

Yeah. You did.

I wrote my number on the back.

H x

I can’t help but roll my eyes, and maybe I smile a little.

“You’re a dick, Heath,” I mutter to the piece of paper.

But dammit.

I can’t get enough of you.

~*~*~*~

I
make myself a coffee, have a shower and get changed before I decide to text the number Heath left me. I know he’s a savvy texter when his phone is actually turned on; I witnessed it at the baseball stadium. I think about what I’m going to say to him, and then smile slyly when I figure it out.

L – Asshole.

I send the message with a triumphant smile, and go to place my phone down but it buzzes in my palm almost instantly.

H – I’m not sorry.

I laugh softly.

L – That’s the worst part. I looked like a crazy person.

H – From what I recall, you are.

I flush.

L – Thanks for last night. I’m locking my windows from now on.

H – There are many other ways to get into your house.

Jerk.

L – I’ll lock them all. When will I see you again?

H – I don’t know. I’ll call you when I can.

L – Okay well, go and fight crime, GI Joe.

H – Later, honey.

I put my phone down and get ready for work. I’m doing a lunchtime shift today, so I get ready a little quicker than usual, considering I slept in. I grab my things, lock the house, and head out, trying to take my mind off everything. Mostly, Gerard. I hate fighting with him. I hate that things have gotten so cold between us. I never wanted that. Not even for a second. I know things deteriorated after the attack, but I didn’t think that we’d ever look at each other the way we do now.

Then there’s the guilt over having Heath in my life.

It’s been such a short time since Gerard left, and while I know it’s for the best and that we were never going to make it through, I can’t fathom the fact that I already have feelings for another man. I don’t know the depth of my feelings for Heath; I just know they feel real and that I can’t stop thinking about him. Being with him last night was hands down the best experience of my life and that scares me, because it was so intense, so incredible, that I have to wonder if it was the situation making it seem like something it wasn’t.

I think about this through my entire shift at work, and when night falls, I grab the newspaper on the way out the door, waving to everyone. I’m going to visit my parents tonight, then . . . well . . . then I don’t know. I walk down the road to a Mexican restaurant and order my usual tacos, then I sit outside and wait while they’re being made. I flip open the paper and my heart skips a beat.

Local baseball stadium to open Saturday for its first game since the horrific incident where so many lives were lost.

My heart lodges in my throat, and my fingers tremble as I read and re-read the article. It’s opening up tomorrow for the first time since the attack. I know I should go—I want to go, I need to go—but the idea of walking back in there scares me in a way I don’t even want to think about. Will they come back? Does this mean it’s over and they won’t attack again? Or does it mean they’ll try to because they didn’t win?

I pull out my phone and text Heath.

L – The baseball stadium is opening tomorrow.

He replies fairly quickly, which eases some of the fear lodged in my chest.

H – I know, honey.

L – You didn’t tell me.

H – That’s because I knew you’d try and go, and I don’t want you there.

I exit out of the messages with an angry push of the button. He didn’t tell me because, as always, I’m kept out of everything, and he wants me to be hidden away from it all. I had the right to know. I have the right to go. He can’t stop me from doing that—he
won’t
stop me from doing that. Facing fear is the only way to move on from it—even I know that.

I want to move on.

My phone rings. I ignore it and shove it back in my purse, heading inside to collect my dinner before getting in my car and heading over to my parents’ house. I’ve eaten my tacos messily by the time I arrive, and spend ten minutes in their driveway wiping myself clean before going in. If I’ve eaten, my mom won’t freak out and attempt to make me something. I know they’ll have finished their dinner already, and I didn’t tell them I was coming, which is sure to end in a frantic scrambling to stuff me full of food.

“Lucy, sweetheart, we weren’t expecting you!” Dad says the second I step through the front door. He’s on the couch, watching his usual football, and Mom is in the kitchen, cleaning up the dishes.

“Just thought I’d pop in and say hello after my shift.”

“Have you eaten?” Mom asks, wiping her hands on a towel before coming over and embracing me.

“I’ve eaten.” I smile.

“Hi baby,” Dad says, snatching me from my mom’s arms and pulling me into his. “I’ve missed you.”

“Me too, Dad. Sorry I haven’t been by. Things have been hectic.”

He practically drags me over to the couch and pulls me down beside him. “What’s been going on?”

I pat his hand. “Nothing to be concerned about.”

“Have you spoken to Gerard?” Mom asks, sitting on the other side of me, giving me her sad eyes.

“Yes, Mom.”

“And nothing has changed?”

“No.”

She opens her mouth to say something but my dad cuts her off. “He didn’t do right by our Lucy. He should have stood by her, and he chose not to.”

“He was confused,” Mom tries, but it’s weak.

“He was her husband. End of story,” Dad says in his firm tone, then he looks back to me. “Is everything going smoothly?”

“It’s going as well as it can go,” I admit. “His sister isn’t helping situations.”

“That woman is awful,” Mom scoffs. “I never liked her.”

“No, me either.” I sigh. “But she’s on Gerard’s tail everywhere he goes, so I’ve been unable to speak to him alone. Ending this is the right thing, I’m sure of that, but we loved each other, and I don’t want it to be awful between us.”