Page 35 of Silent Is The Heart

I thank the rest of his friends as they pile out the door. A giddy sensation comes over me when Easton remains, bidding them farewell with me like he’s staying put.

I got what I wanted. Now what? What can I say to not scare him off or ruin the magnanimous gesture he made today?

After the Wolf departs, it’s just the two of us left standing in my living room. He moves to the coffee table and collects the last of the pizza boxes, carting it into my kitchen without a word. Scrambling, I snag a napkin that was left behind just foran excuse to follow. Face to face in the kitchen, I’m about to blurt out more thank yous I know will make him squirm when he speaks.

“I’m gonna go too. You good?”

Scoffing, I give the cottage a scan. “I feel like I robbed a home goods store and didn’t even know it.”

Snorting, he reaches into his pocket and retrieves the keys that Shannon gave him. I stare dumbly as he holds them out to me.

“Here. So you can get to work,” he explains.

I stare at them, remembering that I forgot all about calling my mother to ask for the use of her car. Right. My truck is gone. Forever. Shit. But what is he talking about?

As his crew pulls away, I glance out the front window and notice the silver SUV is still sitting in my yard, along with Easton’s motorcycle.Twovehicles, but only one person left to drive. The keychain on the keys has aChevyemblem on it, matching the symbol on the front of the shiny, newer-modelSuburbanon my lawn.

“What? No. I can’t.”

Sighing, he rolls his eyes, grabs my hand, and drops them into my palm. He starts heading toward the door, setting off a panic in me. I only have seconds to unravel this new mystery. Which one of his friends offered up aneighty-some-thousand-dollar ride to a complete stranger? This is getting out of hand.

“Easton, wait. Whose is this?”

Mine, he signs, and then that playful light in his eyes flickers.Don’t worry.It’s not stolen.

God, what kind of impression of him did I convey? “I wouldn’t have thought that,” I babble and make my feet shuffle forward. “But seriously, I can’t borrow your car. This istoo much. You’ve already done way too much. There’s no way I can—”

His palm covers my mouth. It’s gentle, but so unexpected I stop speaking. Leaning in, his lips press a quick peck to my temple, and he murmurs, “It’s fine. Get some sleep.”

I think I’ve been numb most of the day, too swept up in the events that unfolded to be fully present. My brain comes back online, however, the second I feel him pull back. It’s pure instinct and gratitude, and probably still more self-pity, but I latch onto him, hugging him tightly.

I know he doesn’t like talking or praise, but I have to let him know how much this means to me. I hope he understands that it’s not even about furniture. It’s the chance he’s giving me to exist in his world again.

He’s stiff under my embrace as I try to hold back my tears. Will I ever stop getting teary-eyed?

I don’t blame him for not knowing what to do with such a mess of a man in front of him, but then I feel his arms go around me. They’re loose at first but then tighten. It feels like they glue some of my pieces back together. I let out a breath that sets free something painful from my chest. For the first time since Jason passed or perhaps even longer than that, it feels like everything is going to be alright. And it feels like it’s because of the man I’m clutching in my arms.

When his arms loosen, I have the gumption to do the same. Drawing my face out of the crook of his warm neck, I find a strange look on his face. It’s not the guarded mask of humor. It’s something closer to awestruck.

“Goodnight,” he rasps. Nodding toward the TV, he adds, “Don’t order any porn.”

I bark out a laugh through the congestion building in my sinuses. “Not a problem.”

The words hit his back, though. Seeing his hand on my doorknob has my chest going tight. The fairy godmother only visited Cinderella once. I’m well past that many visits from the enigmatic man about to walk out my door.

“Will I see you again?”

I cringe at the foolish question, feeling his car keys in my hand. Of course, I’ll see him again. I’ll have to return his car to him, but that’s not what I meant.

Freezing, his hand stills. It’s probably only seconds, but seems much longer as I wait for a reply. He cants his head to the side without looking back.

“Do you want to see me again?”

“Yes,” I answer without missing a beat. “Yeah…I’d like that.”

Swallowing, he nods before pushing through the door. “Then you will.”

I don’t move as the rumble of his bike fires up. I don’t move when his headlight flashes across the front room window, nor do I, until the purr of his engine is out of earshot down the road. Turning around to the silence of the cottage, it no longer feels like a place to wait out a stay of execution. Lights blazing in every room, television broadcasting a hockey game, all the once-empty spaces now filled with things that make it look like a home—not a single memory of the miserable hours I’ve spent in here comes to mind. All I see is Easton. Easton hauling in a couch and a dresser. Easton setting a stack of pizza boxes down on the coffee table. Easton cursing at the remote to get the cable set up. Easton screwing the legs into the sockets of the table, now sitting in my kitchen. He gave me more than things. I think he just gave me a clean slate.

---