Page 4 of The Perfect Heart

My stomach grumbled instead—shots of whiskey on an empty stomach were not a good idea, and I could still feel a slight buzz.

Outside, I could hear the wind moving through bare tree branches, the soft, slushy sound of snow falling on snow, and the faint noise of the television or music from the main house. Other than that, it was quiet, a 180-reversal from the dull roar and constant rush of Los Angeles.

I had only been back for a few hours, but I already felt a sense of being at home. Still, it was still a strange dissonance, or maybe disbelief, from one place to the other in the space of twenty-four hours. Part of my brain couldn’t quite grasp that I was here, not there, that I was in snowy Leavenworth, Washington, and not 70-degree Los Angeles.

I was here, but what did I do now?

Not much tonight—I was exhausted and knew there was nowhere to go. Even if I wanted to, I had no car, and anything within walking distance required one. I had no one to call, and I wouldn’t have anything to eat until I went to the store the next morning to buy whatever groceries I could with what little cash I had in my purse. Maybe stop by a thrift store—I couldn’t exactly work at Nash’s bar wearing what I was wearing now. And if I wore the same thing multiple days in a row, someone would definitely start to notice and ask questions.

I had seen the questions I had seen in Nash’s eyes tonight—but he hadn’t asked. Which I was grateful for.

I wasn’t even sure why I had gone to the bar, the one Mom had told me he had bought a few years before, except that I was desperate to see a friendly face.

When I left Washington for California after graduating high school, my head full of dreams, I knew I would miss home. But I had known I was going to miss Nash even more.

Seeking that familiar face, I had pictured the guy I had known since we were children, the skinny kid with curly brown hair and acne scars. That kid hadn’t been the guy who had come out from behind the bar to greet me. I had seen echoes of him in Nash’s eyes, the blue as crystal as I remembered, and in the dance of the smile on his face. But his smile had become dazzling, and skinny had become muscular from what I could see beneath his black shirt, stretched over broad shoulders, the sleeves drawn back to reveal forearms ropey with corded definition. He had even tamed his hair with a close crop on either side of his head, the top left curly and slightly tousled.

At least outwardly, the new Nash added to the feeling of dissonance. Home, but not home. Returned, but not to the same place I had left. Yes, the buildings were the same, encapsulated for all time as a Bavarian village. But the people had changed. Mom was living somewhere else, and friends had moved away to other, larger cities or out of state like I had. And Nash owned a bar and looked like that—like a man when I had left a boy behind.

A jingling sound from my purse distracted me from my thoughts, but it took me a moment to realize it was my new phone ringing. I dug it out just as it stopped ringing, but it was the one number I knew by heart—my mom’s.

For a moment, I didn’t pick up—there were things I knew my mom would ask that I didn’t want to talk about. But if I didn’t pick up, she would worry, and that was the last thing I wanted.

I finally hit the button to answer the call and lifted the phone to my ear. “Hi, Mom.”

“Hey, sweetheart. You didn’t call to check in, so I’m calling instead.” Mom tried to sound calm, but I could hear the slight edge of concern in her words.

“Sorry. I stopped for a bit to see Nash, just to say hi. I got to Marie’s about half an hour ago.”

“You went to see Nash? How is he doing?” Mom’s voice brightened.

“He’s doing well. At least, from what he said the half hour I was there. It looks like the bar is doing well. He looks good, too.”

I wasn’t sure why I added the last but wrote it off to my exhaustion, which suddenly felt like a leaden weight on my shoulders. Pulling another chair out from the table, I sank down, rubbing at my temple with my free hand to forestall the headache beginning to form there.

“That’s great to hear, and I’m glad you went to see him. I was a bit worried about you being there alone.” The cheer slipped from Mom’s tone, and I braced myself for the next question. “I was a little concerned when you called me and told me you were taking a bus back home and needed a place to stay. And gave me a new phone number.”

The silence at the end of the line told me Mom wanted to ask so much more about why I had suddenly left home and come here, why I needed a place to stay, why I hadn’t told her I was taking a vacation.

“I just need some time away from Jack, Mom,” I said, taking charge of the direction of the conversation. “We just needed a little break.”

It wasn’t the truth, the one I had told Nash—that I had left my husband—but it was the only one I could share tonight. The last thing I wanted to do was follow Mom down a rabbit hole of questions I didn’t want to answer and realities I didn’t want to face.

“You needed time apart?” The question from the other end of the line was hesitant, quiet.

“Just a little time apart. Everything is okay, all right?”

I didn’t think either of us believed me, but that was okay for tonight.

“Look, Mom. I’m exhausted. I’m going to get to bed, okay? I’m good. Everything is good.”

I didn’t know who I was trying to convince more, Mom or me, but that was a problem for tomorrow. Or the next day. Just a time that wasn’t now.

“Okay.” Mom sighed, but no more questions came over the phone line. “Just call me, okay? I want to know you’re okay.”

“I will. I promise.” And I meant it. I didn’t want to give Mom a reason to worry. At least, not any more reasons.

“And make sure you see Nash more often, okay? So you’re not lonely.”