Page 50 of Bleeding Hearts

“How about we go get some cake?” He tries changing the subject, and evidently, it works.

“Okay.” She smiles, grabbing his hand and yanking him with her toward the cake.

It’s a funny picture, the four-foot-nothing little girl dragging the six-foot-four man.

“He’s totally in for it with her.” Demi laughs as she pulls away from me and starts walking over to where everyone’s gathered around the cake.

We watch as Kade and Lo cut the first slice together and then as Lo proceeds to smear her fingers in the frosting and smush it all over his face. He grabs her fingers and shoves them in his mouth to clean the rest of the frosting off.

“You’re going to show your kids this video one day,” Theo calls out from behind the phone he’s videoing the two of them on. “Maybe at least try to keep it clean.”

Lo falls into a fit of laughter before leaning in to kiss Kade, face full of frosting and all. She pulls away, smiling with frosting covering her own face now.

I look next to me to find Demi watching them with a soft smile on her face, a longing look in her eyes.

“I should probably grab her some napkins,” she says, walking over to the food table where they’re laid out.

“They’re really happy together, aren’t they?” Logan’s mom’s voice startles me as she comes to stand next to me.

“Yeah, they are. They deserve it.” I turn to her. “I don’t think we’ve officially met. I’m Asher. I work with Kade.” I extend my hand, which she takes, gently shaking.

“Julia Hart. It’s good to meet you.” She smiles kindly. “So, how long have you and Kaden’s sister been together?” she asks.

“Oh no, we’re not together. We’re just friends.”

“Oh, forgive me, I just assumed when I saw you two dancing together.”

“Just a friendly dance.” I smile.

“Hmm.” She smiles politely back, clearly withholding what she wants to say.

“You know, my mom is a master at pretending to hold her tongue when there are things that she clearly wants to say but is waiting for permission to.” I raise my brow at her, and she laughs lightly.

“Well, it’s just I never would’ve figured the two of you were just friends,” she says.

“Why not?” I press.

“Well, the way you two act so comfortable around each other, and then, of course, the way you two look at each other. That’s the big one. You can tell a lot about a person through their eyes.”

“The eyes are the window to a person’s soul,” I recite the familiar quote I remember my mom speaking to me so long ago.

Memories flood back from when I was sick, holed up in the hospital, wanting desperately to be anywhere else.

I put on a smile for my parents, I joked, I pretended everything was fine even though I felt anything but.

My mom never bought my act.

It was always at night, right before I fell asleep. The exhaustion would hit me like a semitruck going a hundred miles per hour, and it became hard to convince myself, let alone anyone else, that things were okay. But still, I tried.

My mom would poke her head in to find me sick on the bathroom floor. I’d make a dumb joke about eating some bad sushi and she’d give me a weak smile, knowing I was just trying to avoid the truth.

My sweet boy, you don’t always have to act so tough. The eyes are the window to a person’s soul, and I can see the truth in yours. You’re scared, and it’s okay to be. But you are the strongest fighter I know. We will get through this.

She was right. I did. Yet some days, when the memories plague me, it still feels like I’m back there, in that time, in that moment. Some days it feels so far behind me, and then there are others I feel like I’ll never escape it. I don’t think that type of fear ever truly goes away.

“Exactly.” Julia nods, pulling me away from my thoughts.

“And what do our eyes say?” I ask, and she smiles.

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