Page 36 of Hearts on the Mend

“He’s a tough guy, even if I always tease him for crying at the ending of Homeward Bound.”

A smile pulls at my mouth. A full one. Easy. My fingers immediately move to trace the feel of it on my face. I don’t smile very often. It feels weird there, almost as weird as the light, fuzzy pressure in my chest.

“Homeward Bound is a deep cut unless you’re a millennial.”

“Don’t you know it’s impolite to ask a woman her age, Nolan?” She dips her finger into the rich chocolate batter, sinks it into her mouth, then pops it out.

“I didn’t.”

She raises her brows. “I don’t remember you being this quiet last year.”

I push up from my chair, leaning back against the table, crossing my arms. “We didn’t talk a lot. Last year.”

“That’s not true.” She runs the spatula around the edge of the bowl. “I remember you talking plenty.”

“And you…” I say, “were loud enough for everyone to hear.”

Cassie tosses down the spatula, glancing up at me before she spins and yanks open the oven door. “Sorry,” she says at last, hanging her head. “That’s my fault. I didn’t come down here to flirt with you.”

“Brownies?”

“Right, brownies.”

I scratch my jaw, turning to the fridge to pull out a beer. No flirting. Right. Best to change topics then. “You miss Ruby?”

She nods tightly, wiping down the counter. “I hate that she’s not here with me. Glad I was distracted with everyone today. That helped a lot.”

“You need a distraction? You don’t strike me as someone looking for an escape.”

“Two different things, Nolan. I miss my daughter. It’s like my heart is walking around outside my body. That never goes away. I’m not the one drinking beer in the shower.”

I shrug, too tired to deny it. Can’t sleep at the end of the day, even if my body is exhausted. Prefer just to sleep and skip the nightmares. And lately, it’s always the same—Jared’s eyes as he fell, the sound of his scream melting with my own before I was pulled free from the burning ash.

“Not that I’m judging,” she quickly adds.

“Sounds it.”

“Fine.” She tosses her hands up. “I am. Having a hard time reconciling this version of you with the one who walked me out of that bar last winter.”

“Lots has happened since. That’s all.” I place my beer down on the table and grab another cord of wood, opening the woodstove. I poke at the charred logs, tossing on another before I lock up the door. “We agreed not to talk about it.”

“Right. This is purely a business arrangement. I need to sell the house, and you needed… what did you need to do, actually?”

She’s pushing me. I can tell, but I play along. “Needed to move out of my parents’ place.”

“Wasn’t loving living back at home?”

That’s one way of putting it. “Didn’t love being treated like a child.”

“They care about you.”

“I know. My brothers too. Still doesn’t make it any less frustrating.”

“You want to…” She pauses with the sponge in her hand. “Talk about what happened?”

“No.”

“You could, you know? I’m a good listener.”