Page 4 of Hearts to Mend

When I moved back home, I knew I’d run into her—it’s a small town. But I wasn’t expecting it to be here. Now. With my son present and beaming at her like she’s the tooth fairy.

Dee looks surprised. I guess the rumor mill hadn’t informed her of my return. Her eyes scan over me from head to toe and back again, and for a moment, just one tiny little second, she looks happy to see me. Then her expression falls. The beautiful smile directed at my son slips, and her eyes turn cold, guarded, like she’s built a wall between us.

“Hi, Rico. It’s been a while.”

She steps closer. Close enough that I can smell the honeysuckle sweetness of her shampoo. It’s the same scent I remember, and it sends a jolt of electricity straight to my heart. But she looks away from me, past me, to my son. They do some elaborate handshake with Matty’s good hand, then she squeezes his shoulder before she turns to leave.

Matty and I watch her go, like we both wish she would stay, and before I can think better of it, I turn to my son and ask him, “Will you give me a sec, big man? I need to talk to Dee for a moment.”

With a nod from Matty, I move out into the hall looking for Dee. She’s easy to spot, moving fast toward the exit in a shirt with FIRE written across the back in bright yellow letters.

“Dee Dee,” I holler as I jog to catch up.

She freezes at the sound of that old nickname and spins to face me, frowning. “Look, I didn’t know he was your son. Okay?”

“Huh?”

“Jesus. I didn’t plan this. If that’s what you’re thinking.”

“No, I…” What? “I just wanted to thank you for being here for Matty.”

“It’s my job.”

I don’t know what I expected my reunion with Dee to be like, but this isn’t it. She’s angry—I expected that. But it’s obvious—probably more obvious than she’d like it to be—that she’s hurting too. It’s like the pain I caused her all those years ago is still fresh and sharp and right beneath the surface.

She does that thing she used to always do when she was upset: press her lips together and pick at the freckle on her chin. It’s strangely endearing that she hasn’t changed that little habit.

After a moment, she asks, “So you live here now?”

I nod, and it feels like too much, like a bobblehead nod. “Living with Mom at the moment, moving into the rental next door once Mom’s tenants move out.”

“Drew and Chloe.”

“Huh?”

“Inez’s tenants are Drew and Chloe. You’re back in a small town. You can call people by their actual names here.”

I blink, a little lost.

“Well, bye,” Dee says and starts to turn away, but I don’t want her to go.

Even if all she’s giving me is her anger, I’ll take it. I’ll take anything from her for another moment to stare into those sea-glass green eyes and revel in all the memories elicited by the smell of her hair. Desperate to stop her from leaving, I step closer and almost reach for her as I say, “Dee—”

“What, Rico?” She raises her voice, and there’s fire in her eyes when she says, “What do you have to say to me that’s more important than being with your son right now?”

Ouch. The censure cuts deep. And in my head, I hear the word “neglect” on repeat. I take a step back, moving farther from Dee and closer to my son.

“And next time, answer your phone” are her parting words as she turns away, her long legs taking her out the door and out of my life again.

I go back to Matty’s room, practicing my smile as I push the door open. Despite my best efforts, Matty knows how to read my expression, and he blinks those owl eyes at me. “What’s wrong, Daddy?”

“Well, my favorite son got hurt today.” I sit on the edge of his bed. “That’s pretty wrong.”

“I’m your only son,” he insists with a giggle.

“You are?” I scrunch up my face like I’m doing the math in my head, then ask, “Well, how is my only favorite son feeling?”

“I’m okay now.” He gets serious when he adds, “I cried and got the hurt feelings out.”

---