Reclaim My Heart

chapter FOURTEEN

The entrancing strains of that magical music quavered with the rhythm of her heart and threatened to whisk her away. Lucas’s penetrating gaze searched hers. He leaned toward her, and she was hit with a heady adrenalin rush.

“Sorry,” he murmured, “but I’ve just got to do this.”

The apology made her frown, but his lips brushed hers, once, twice, feather light, kick-starting her pulse into a staccato beat that clashed with the dreamy, melodious harmony of flutes. He deepened the kiss, and her whole world became focused on the corporal; the hardness of his chest beneath her palms, the heated scent of him filling her nostrils, lulling all thought. His fingers skimmed over her shoulders and down her arms, settling on her waist, his touch sure, unhurried, deliberate. He slid his hands upward toward her ribcage and breasts, and she bent her elbows and tucked them tight against her, blocking him with her forearms.

“W ~d ktribcagehoa,” she whispered. “Hold on.”

He pulled back a few inches, a question in his eyes.

She smiled, shaking her head, uncertain if embarrassment and simple apprehension were making her feel so overheated or if it was him, his kiss, his touch. “We’re not teenagers anymore, Lucas.”

He grinned. “Yeah, ain’t it great? I know just what to do and how to do it.”

His eyelids drooped subtly and he leaned in, his bottom lip glistening from their kiss, and she nearly surrendered and let him take her wherever it was he wanted to go. But logic snapped on like a glaring light.

She lifted her hand, touching her index and middle fingers to his moist, hot mouth. “Wait.” Indecision forced her gaze to dip, but then she looked him in the eye. “Lucas, what are you doing?”

Deadpan serious, he told her, “I think that’s obvious. I’m kissing you.”

The passion hazing his gaze, roughening his voice, caused the muscles low in her gut to constrict.

“Lucas.” She tried to elevate the volume of her voice but failed. “We can’t do this.” She’d lowered her hand a little, but it remained, hovering between them. The heat of him was intoxicating. It would be so easy to surrender.

“Sure, we can. Let me show you how.” He pressed his body against hers.

Her small exhalation was short, forceful. “You know what I mean. We shouldn’t do this.” But even as she said the words, she had to resist the urge to release a low groan. This felt so good. So very good.

Now he smiled, the intensity in his handsome face relaxing. “Well, that’s a whole other issue, now isn’t it?”

But he stayed close. Too close.

“This will only complicate things,” she told him. “And things are complicated enough, don’t you think?” He didn’t respond, and he didn’t step back. Struck with the overwhelming need to temper her argument, she quickly added, “Besides that, we’re not the same people, you and I. We can’t be, with all the time that’s gone by, you know?”

Nerves tickled at her and every inch of her skin became hypersensitive. Recognizing the hard length of his penis bearing against her hip should have forced her gaze from his, should have had her elbowing her way out of his heady embrace, but that’s not what happened at all. In fact, her own desire flared, white-hot, and when she spoke, it was as if someone else were forming the words.

“We don’t know each other, Lucas.”

Her little speech cleared his dark eyes and he backed away. And even as she was flooded with relief, she was also glutted with disappointment. His hands slid from her waist, and even with the hot summer heat, she felt suddenly chilled. He didn’t agree or disagree with what she’d said, but he did take her hand. And as he led her back to the birthday party, she heard him say, “Guess we’ll have to rectify that.”

• • •



“Hey, Mom.” Zach plopped down on the ground beside her and the small pile of weeds she’d plucked from the flower bed.

Shaded from the sun by the eves of the house, Tyne sat on the cool, green grass, turning the soil to get it ready for the flats of marigolds Lucas had bought, the only flower hardy enough to survive the sizzling summer heat.

“Hi,” she said, smiling. “I thought you and Lucas and Jasper were doing something this afternoon.”

He nodded, a shank of dark hair falling into his eyes. “We had burgers for lunch, and then hung out in town for a while. Uncle Jasper had some great stories about, well—” Zach’s gaze darted to his hands “—you know, about him.”

“Lucas?"5%n hung o”

“Yeah.”

Evidently, her son was still trying to figure out what to call his father. Tyne smacked a clump of earth with her hand trowel, crumbling the dirt. “I’m sorry I missed that.”

“Then some guy stopped him—” again he stumbled “—you know, Lucas, on the street. He was, you know, the guy was, like, real upset. Said something about changes in a new contract he got in the mail, like, yesterday or something.”

She set the shovel aside. “A contract for a communications tower?”

“Yeah. That’s it.”

“Lucas has talked to him before.” An errant weed, now shriveled by the sun, marred the black soil and Tyne reached over, pulled it and dropped it onto the pile. “But I’m surprised Lucas interrupted his afternoon with you and Jasper for—”

“Oh, he didn’t.” Zach started tugging at a dandelion that was growing between the grass and the bricks that bordered the flower bed. “We were on our way back to Uncle Jasper’s anyway. The guy was, like, really angry, so I told him, you know, Lucas, that I’d, like, walk home.”

She tugged off one glove and looked at her son. “That was nice of you.”

Zach shrugged. He focused on the large weed. “Listen, Mom, I’ve been wanting to…” He cleared his throat, reached out and plucked a green leaf. “I’ve been, like, thinking.”

Announcing the need to talk was a rarity, a near impossibility, for a teenaged boy. At least, she’d found that to be true for her son.

Tyne pulled off her other gardening glove. “I’m listening.”

He didn’t look up from the dandelion. “I want to apologize. For the way I’ve been acting. For the trouble I got into back home. I didn’t act like, well, you know, like I should have.”

Staring at her son, she was astounded. Unexpected tears scalded the backs of her eyelids and the knot rising in her throat choked her. But she took a breath and willed the emotion aside. “Zach—”

He looked up and immediately narrowed his gaze. “Now, don’t make a big deal about this.”

Her gaze darted to the pile of weeds she’d created and she did her best to blink away the tears. “Why would I do that?” The gloves slid back on with ease and she tackled the flower bed with renewed gusto just to have something to keep her hands busy.

The dandelion popped free of the ground and Zach tossed it aside. “Uncle Jasper says that, like, the only thing a man really has is his honor. Every decision I make, every word I speak, every action I take reflects on, like, my integrity. And the kind of person I am has an impact on, like, you know, the whole family. Uncle Jasper called it a clan. ’Cause I’m…‌one of ’em.” Zach picked up the trowel and stabbed at the dirt. “What I did before, Uncle Jasper says, isn’t, like, as important as how I act now. I mean, now that I’ve been told. Now that I know how important honor is to a man, to a person, to their family, and their whole clan. But even though Uncle Jasper is willing to let me off the hook, it’s bothering me. I mean, like, my behavior. You know, the trouble I got into.” He sighed in frustration. “I’m not explaining this very well.”

Sentiment softened her smile and she cast him a quick glance. “You’re explaining it perfectly.”

“Anyway, I can’t blame other people for my decisions.” He jabbed at a vine-like weed, picked it up and shook the soil from the roots. “I can’t, like, blame you or Rob or, ah, Lucas, and, and not even those kids I was with that night I got arrested. I got in trouble because of the choices I made.”

Tyne smoothed her gloved hand over the ground, leveling out the area of the flower bed she’d been fussing over. Zach would have been horrified if she were to grab hwerth="5%">Tyim and plant a big kiss on his cheek, so she continued working the earth between her fingers.

“Uncle Jasper says becoming an adult means, like, taking responsibility for your actions. The things you do, the things you say. Even the things you think.”

That was a lesson she hadn’t learned until she’d become a mother. While staying at her Aunt Wanda’s home in Florida, waiting for her baby to be born, Tyne had accepted all the help her parents and her aunt had offered. It wasn’t until she’d held Zach in her arms, saw the child her actions had produced, that she’d finally put all the pieces together and realized the seriousness of her situation.

She was responsible for this baby. She was the one who had to grow up and start making mature, sensible decisions.

Now here she was, seeing her son learning the same lesson…‌only he was learning it at an earlier age than she had.

Zach tapped the tip of the metal trowel against the brick-lined border. “I guess I, like, knew that. I should have, anyway. But the way Uncle Jasper explained it, I really understood, you know?”

Tyne couldn’t stand it any longer. She jerked off her gloves and swiveled her feet under her so that she was propped up on her knees, sitting back on her heels. She turned to Zach. “I don’t want you to make a big deal about this, but would it be okay if I gave you a hug?”

It was obviously the last thing he wanted, but he suffered through her embrace. She pressed a kiss to his hair, hoping he didn’t feel it.

“I’m proud of you,” she whispered. Then she slid along the flower bed a foot or so and went back to weeding, afraid her emotions would overwhelm her.

“I’m going to go get a soda,” he told her, rising to his feet.

The screen creaked open, but it didn’t close.

“Mom,” he called from up on the concrete stoop.

She lifted her face.

“I am going to try to do better. I promise.”

Again, her smile was tight; it was necessary to keep her chin from trembling.

“I don’t want you to be ashamed of me ever again.”

She gasped. “Zachary, I have never been ashamed of you.”

Skepticism planted itself between his brows. “The truth is important, Mom. I can handle it.”

Her eyes never wavered from his. “That is the truth.”

The crease on his forehead only deepened. “So why didn’t you tell him about me?”

Guilt jarred through her like a bolt of summer heat lightning.

“And why don’t you want your parents to know about me?”

She’d rather have been stripped of her clothes and forced to run down the street stark naked than answer those two innocent questions.

Abortion. Adoption. Bigotry.

The vileness of her teen years made her head swim. Taking responsibility for your actions was one thing. Hurting someone you loved with the painful truth was quite another.

Her son deserved answers. But she wasn’t willing to wound him by supplying them.

“Honey,” she said softly, “you’re going to have to trust m





e. I want you to know that I’m only doing what’s best for you. That has always been my only motivation.”

Her son’s face went slack. This wasn’t the response he’d hoped for.

He stepped inside and she called his name. He paused, and then slowly turned to face her, his disappointment only slightly obscured by the web of screening.

“I want you to know something important. It’s not you I’m ashamed of.”

Her son looked at her for a moment longer, unasked questions clouding dark eyes that were too much like his father’s, then he disappeared into the hous in/p>