Page 2 of The Heart Remembers

“So, you’re staying the week, and your room is up here.” It’s not really a question, just a clarification.

“Yeah.” Levi sheepishly glances down at his feet, forcing me to look as well. The platinum steel leg is on display at the end of his shorts. He slips his hands into his pockets and wiggles the toes of his one foot in a flipflop. “I’m up here with my son.”

My head lifts. I don’t recall him having a child. Is he married? When did this happen? Why hadn’t anyone told me? My heart hammers in my chest while I have no reason to be upset. He was a crush when I was a kid. I’m an adult, and so is he. We both moved forward.

Only, everyone is expecting me to get engaged soon, and it isn’t going to happen.

The possibility of Levi being married hits hard for some reason. Not that he doesn’t deserve it. Despite the drunken kiss, he’s a nice guy who happens to be a great kisser. He’s still hot, with a solid chest and working heart, and just . . .

“Wow. I didn’t know you were married.” Sounding offended, I clear my throat, attempting to soften it on the second try. “That’s amazing. Congratulations. And a kid, wow. Just wow, yeah.” I’m rambling because I do that. For someone who spent years holding in her words, I let them flow and too freely sometimes—like now—when I’m nervous and upset for no reason. Who cares if he’s married? We all deserve to be married, to find that partner in life who loves us unconditionally and gives us a family. The one who wants to build a family, with children, lots of children.

I’m not jealous. I’m not.

“Oh, I’m not married.” Levi lifts a hand and scratches under his chin, his fingertips forcing the scruff to sound like sandpaper on fresh wood, and I wonder what those coarse hairs would feel like against my jaw, along my neck, between my thighs.

Wait? What?! I should not be thinking such things about my aunt’s ex-husband’s younger brother, who is still hot as hell even as he ages.

“It’s a long story, but yes, I have a kid. A son. His name is AJ.” Pride fills his voice. “He’s six months old.”

And another ball drops, shattering my heart. He wasn’t kidding when he said he had a baby. Six months is practically an infant. It’s a precious time. All that new growth and discovery, and new words, and first steps, and my heart aches again. A shaky hand comes to my forehead, fingers pressing across the tight skin, certain baby fever is evident over my brows.

“I can’t wait to meet him,” I whisper. The words are rough, hardly hiding my heartbreak as they leak out. Not jealous. Levi’s forehead furrows as his eyes assess my face.

“Tricia tells me you’re successful.” It’s an odd comment, one reminding me we are virtually strangers at this point in our lives, and I’m not good with small talk. I like to talk, now, a lot, but not with idle chitchat to fill the space.

“I . . . were you needing in here?” I hitch a thumb over my shoulder, recalling our position. Me just inside the bathroom. Him just outside of it.

“Oh, yeah. Thanks.” We do this awkward shuffle where he steps back but not far enough, and I step out, but we’re still too close. Then his hands catch me again, and I feel as if I’m tugged to him, which is a ridiculous thought. My palms flatten on his firm chest once more, squeezing this time to get an extra feel of his strength. Which proves equally embarrassing when his brows hitch, aware of my touch.

Then he smiles. His red mouth curls. Those dimples beam. My mouth waters.

Will he kiss me?

What in the name of Hades? He isn’t going to kiss me.

“It’s great to see you again, sweet girl,” he whispers, his gaze lowering to my mouth once more, and I’m very much in fear that Levi Walker does remember that kiss with a teenage girl.

And it’s a memory he probably wishes he could forget.

2

[Levi]

Holy fucking shit.

Katie Carter has turned into one seriously gorgeous woman. Her hair is more straw-blond than I remember, and a smattering of freckles still cover her nose and cheeks, but her eyes. They arrest me. The blue is like a sunny sky on a summer day. Plus, her body slamming into mine and my fingers on her arms tells me she’s tight, fit, like someone who works out and takes care of herself.

And holy fucking shit, I should not be thinking of her body. She’s the daughter of Tricia’s brother and totally off-limits as a Carter. This family is special to me, and nothing short of my own family in a sense. They’re better than my own had been, and I’m grateful for Tricia and her husband, Leon Ramirez, for so many reasons. I wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize our relationship, although I’ve come close. Once. Actually twice. This third time was another close call.

Because holy fucking shit, I almost kissed her in the hallway. Again.

We had this awkward interchange of questions like we’re trying to cram ten years between the doorjamb where we stood for what felt like an eternity yet not long enough.

Katie Carter had been a child when I was a teen. Someone you didn’t give a second thought to when learning your way around girls, giving up your virginity to the wrong one, and then living the life of a horny bastard. I went into the Marines once I graduated high school because I couldn’t afford college. I didn’t have a college fund. Tricia and Leon couldn’t financially help me, and I never would have asked them. They’d already done so much for me. Instead, I’d decided school wasn’t for me despite my good grades and Tricia as a mother hen. She was also a high school teacher.

However, when Katie was a bit older, we’d been in this similar position once before in her aunt’s house. I’d been home on leave and smacked into her as I tried to enter the restroom while she exited. I’d been drunk. Way too drunk. I’d had a run-in with my dad and was staying at Tricia’s instead of the house I called home, which was never a home. It was a bachelor pad for three miserable men most of my life, and I couldn’t wait to get out of there, which was another huge reason I selected the Marines.

I kissed a girl then, and I liked it, too much, because she was a girl. Seventeen or something like that and I was in my twenties. What had I been thinking? However, I knew my thoughts. They were very similar to the ones now. She didn’t look like a child. She was all woman.