Page 1 of The Heart Remembers

1

[Katie]

“What the . . .?”

As I step out of the bathroom, I bump into the hard wall of someone’s chest.

“I’m so . . .” My apology is cut short when I look up. Rich, dark, deep brown eyes arrest the words within me. A slow grin curls supple lips, exposing dimples difficult to see in the thick scruff on his jaw unless you are up close. Definitely discernable up close. So discernable. So close. Charm exudes from his expression as those eyes spark, and his mouth curls into a lopsided smile.

“Levi,” I whisper, finally finding my voice, noting the warmth of two thick hands on my upper arms, holding me only slightly back from his firm body. His eyes drop to my mouth, and I swallow.

Levi Walker is my aunt’s ex-husband’s little brother, and that’s a mouthful to explain. He’s also my childhood crush and no longer a swoon-worthy teenager but all man at thirtysomething.

I blink up at him, my face instantly heating as I recall a situation similar to this exact moment. Different house but same scenario ten years ago. I was exiting a bathroom, and he caught me in the hallway. Words were exchanged about him being a hero as he’d gone off to the Marines and was home on leave. Then he kissed me. My first kiss at seventeen. He was twenty-four.

My lids lower, taking in the smiling red lips facing me now.

The kiss then was sweet, wet, and powerful, at least to me. It seared my teenage heart with a memory and a longing. I wanted to be kissed again like he’d kissed me then.

At the time, some friend of a friend caught us in the hallway, where he accused me of being a child. I was seventeen, but the other guy said I was ten, and Levi freaked out, stepping away from me as though I’d given him the clap. My heart, which soared one minute, crashed to my feet as he trampled over it with his military-issued boots.

I ran from him, telling him he was no hero. Only heroes were worthy of kisses like that.

I was so naïve.

“Katie?” Levi’s toughened voice pulls me from the haunting memory.

Hopefully, he’s forgotten that moment from ten years ago. Please let him have forgotten it. However, I quickly recall it isn’t my only embarrassing moment with him.

“Katie girl, how are you?” His question reminds me that Levi thought of me as a child. Despite my twenty-seven years, he’ll always remember me as a little girl with blond braids running through sprinklers, making rain, or blowing bubbles in backyards during family functions. Levi is like an adopted member of the Carter clan, but it’s not some nefarious romantic trope like my best friend’s older stepbrother. He’s a family friend who has a long-standing connection with my aunt, making him off-limits to my desires even though he sometimes still floods my fantasies.

“Hey, Levi. I didn’t know you’d be here.”

This weeklong celebration is for Uncle Tom. As the eldest of the Carter siblings, he’s turning sixty years old and wants a rip-roaring party, thus bringing everyone together. While he and his wife, Karyn, live on Elk Lake, he’s rented a house on the big lake—Lake Michigan—although we’re still within the city limits of my hometown, Elk Lake City. Tom wanted everyone under one roof, and since his house could not accommodate all of us, here we are. It’s a ten-bedroom house with three floors, and a beautiful view of the larger lake. The attendees include the four core siblings, plus spouses, and their nearly grown children, totaling roughly fifteen extra people. It’s a tight fit, but we’re here.

As one of the several single women in the under thirty collection of cousins, I’m on the top floor, like the forgotten servant’s quarters in a gothic mansion, although not quite as mysterious or dark. It’s bright and sunny with skylights and a central bathroom for four bedrooms. Apparently, Levi has a guest room up here as well.

“Tricia invited me.” Tricia Ramirez is my aunt, my father’s youngest sister, and someone I adore. She’s fun, spirited, and loves my uncle Leon something fierce. From family lore, their love is well deserved.

“I didn’t realize you were in the area.” We’re still standing in the bathroom doorway. His hands still hold my arms, and my palms lay flat on his chest. It’s such an awkward position for a casual conversation, especially as his T-shirt is thin, and I can feel his heart pattering under the worn material.

Does his heart remember me?

It’s a silly question to ask at my age and in my current relationship status, which I won’t be sharing with anyone this week. This celebration is about Tom.

“I’m not. I’ve been . . . having a rough time . . . and Tricia thought I should come home, well, here, for some time off.”

My brows pinch with concern. Levi’s military path was successful, and I’d kept up from afar, writing him love notes I never sent and dreaming of him fulfilling heroic deeds to win my heart. But the reality is, war is evil, and Levi lost a limb in his battles. I don’t recall the details, but I am aware that he’d been hurt and suffered, and then struggled with his recovery once Stateside.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” I imply of his struggles. Tricia worries he drinks too much, as his father did, and he has a temper, as his brother once had, but the man before me appears calm and tender, and not drunk like he was when we shared that first kiss.

Levi shrugs, rubbing his hands up and down my upper arms before realizing what he’s doing. Then his palms go flat, and his fingers pull back. Slowly, he lifts his hands up and away. He looks from one arm to the other like I’ve singed him where he touched me. Either that, or he’s surrendering as he had on that night.

Jesus, fuck, I’m sorry, Katie girl. The words whisper through my head. A memory dusted off. They were harsh words after asking me if I wanted to kiss him, telling me I was looking at him like I wanted his mouth.

Kiss me, sweet girl.

Gah, men are just . . .