Page 28 of The Heart Remembers

I nod against the door until it opens before me. Thankfully, I’m caught around the waist before I face plant at the missing barrier, keeping me upright.

“Let’s tuck you in, party girl.”

“I’m not a girl,” I mumble.

“No, baby. You’re all woman,” Levi says behind me. As we stand at the edge of the bed, I allow myself to fall forward, face-first into the mattress. My body is shifted so my head nears the pillows, and my feet are freed of my flip-flops. Levi lifts my head and tucks the pillow underneath it, and I reach out for his wrist. There’s so much I’d like to say, so much I want to tell him, but I’m drunk. I’ll regret this in the morning, and I might regret any admission I give him as well. So, silently, I clutch at his wrist, tugging gently at it, hoping he understands that I need him.

“I’m not going anywhere, sweet Katie,” he says. “I’m right here.”

After that, I’m out.

12

[Levi]

She is so drunk, but thankfully, not sloppy. She doesn’t throw up, which surprises me, but she’s out cold. I want to help myself to sleep next to her. I want to comfort her from her distressing questions.

Why didn’t he love me enough? What’s wrong with me?

Jesus, does she not understand she’s perfect like I told her? He’s the fool, but I’m not cursing him. His unfortunate blindness at her perfection could be to my benefit, and I’m grateful he’s stupid. I check on AJ and grab the baby monitor, then return to Katie’s bed. I don’t want anything to happen to her, and I keep my distance, but my hand stretches forward, landing on her lower back. Just touching her grounds me, and I fall asleep.

When I wake with a start, I’m wrapped around her. She doesn’t stir—neither in her sleep nor as I pull myself from the bed—and I exit her room in the early hours of the morning with only a momentary glance back. I’d like to sleep with her every night for the rest of my life. The thought makes me a selfish man, but I’d consider myself the luckiest man if it happened.

Friday is definitely the pre-game to the weekend celebration of Tom’s birthday. The party is Saturday night at The Red Barn, a bright red barn on the property of Ethan Scott’s restaurant, The Red Barn Table. It’s a place for weddings and receptions, and I remember the annual Halloween party being hosted there when I was in high school.

Regardless, I’m feeling both the excitement of the upcoming celebration and the dread of this week ending too soon. On Sunday, I’ll be back on a plane, heading to Florida with just AJ and me, and while these days have been a lot of togetherness and chaos, I’ve enjoyed being surrounded by people I love and who love me in return.

Today’s plan is boating for all with a cookout at Tom’s home. He has a boat off his property on Elk Lake, and Gavin Scott has the same, so the two plan to meet up at Tom’s and take people in waves, every pun intended, out on the lake for tubing time and boat riding.

Unfortunately, Katie’s quiet. It could be the hangover she’s silently nursing, but I’m worried it’s more. She isn’t ignoring me as much as keeping her distance, and I don’t like it. We get separated often as groups are segregated by age—bloody teenagers—or gender—which feels chauvinistic—but eventually, I find myself on Gavin’s boat with Katie, and it’s time for my turn to tube. While Gavin’s been allowing people to go as singles, the tube is big enough for two riders.

“Come with me,” I challenge Katie. If the only way I can get close to her in that bikini is on a rubber raft, I’ll take it. We need to talk, but there’s no time with the chaos and clusters around us.

“Okay,” she hesitantly accepts, and we gear up for the tube. I hold onto it so Katie can hop on from the back of the boat, and then I climb on myself. Our arms need to crisscross to hold the hand straps, and when our skin makes contact, I want to forget the tube time and just talk to her.

At first, she doesn’t speak as Gavin pulls forward, and his son loosens the rope, giving us distance from the boat.

“I’m sorry about last night,” she mutters to the water as we float away from the craft.

“Don’t even mention it,” I tease. “I’ve been in that position myself a time or two.”

She softly laughs, and I’m hoping it’s the end of her standoffishness.

“They’re going to try to dump us,” Katie warns. “It’s going to be payback for all those years babysitting Gavin’s little hellions.” Katie cautiously laughs as the rope tightens, and we begin the ride. She was right. Gavin is a madman driver, and we bounce all over the place with her screams and laughter as background. It’s a beautiful summer day with sunshine and cool water to take off the heat.

“I’m slipping,” Katie yells, laughter still in her voice, and I hook my leg over hers. It’s only partial, but I’m hoping it does the trick to keep her on the tube. I’m also hoping she isn’t freaked out by it. She hasn’t been repulsed yet, and while I don’t typically care what others think, I care what she does. When I first met Alicia, she loved the whole sleeping with the wounded warrior schtick, and then she didn’t. My injury bothered her, which in turn made me more self-conscious about it.

“Hang on!” I holler over the roar of the engine and the hard pulse of water bouncing us everywhere. Eventually, Gavin turns sharp, though. Katie and I collide somehow, and off we both go. The water is a refreshing shock, and I quickly pop up through the surface. The tube pulls forward, and I see the boat turning into the circle it needs to take to come back to us. It’s then that I search the water for Katie and don’t see her.

“Katie,” I call out, spinning as quickly as I can while treading water. Not finding her in the near vicinity, I spin again, crying out even louder. My gaze leaps to the boat, where I see Gavin’s boy calling over his shoulder to his dad. Gavin keeps his turn steady, but he’s scanning the water as well. I dive down.

Holy fuck, it’s dark, and other than the glow of the sunshine rippling at the surface, I can’t see anything. I don’t even know what direction to swim. I just take a chance and go right as that’s the direction we flipped. Paranoid that I hit her as I know we collided somehow, I’m suddenly worried I hit her in the head and knocked her out.

Breaking the surface, I take a quick breath and dive again, frantically turning my head left and right in hopes of finding her. My lungs are burning, and my heart races. The water around me does nothing to soothe my panic. I break the surface once more with a loud, “Fuck,” before diving once more. Somehow, I sense the boat near, but I’m still looking everywhere, worried Gavin clocked her because I can’t see her. I can’t find her in the dark water. I don’t know where she is.

I push upward, preparing to take a fortifying breath when I hear my name yelled as I clear the surface, and I choke on the air I intended to fill my lungs. Spinning around, I see the boat is behind me, and Katie’s sitting on the deck near the ladder.

“Levi.” She waves until she sees my face. “What’s wrong?”