The Hearts We Mend (10 page)

“I've got it.” Jack had come up behind her, close enough that his breath whispered against her ear.

It took a moment for Evie's eyes to adjust to the light that flooded the cavernous room. Another moment to adjust her heart rate when Jack's wry smile surfaced.

“It's kind of a work in progress.”

Jack watched Evie's gaze travel around the room.

A grown-up, blue-eyed Alice who'd fallen down the rabbit hole.

He tried to see the apartment through her eyes.

The sun had scorched the hardwood floor, and tiny fault lines split the plaster walls
.
The previous tenant had painted one of them a startling shade of tangerine, the rest a dull cherry-cola brown.

A stack of wooden crates doubled as a bookshelf, and the only thing that separated the living area from the kitchen was a table fashioned from two old doors Jack had found buried underneath a stack of moldy cardboard in the basement.

He'd sanded through three layers of paint before finding the treasure underneath: the shifting variations of light and shadow that identified the wood as solid hickory.

Most people preferred steel doors over wood because they didn't require any maintenance, but Jack never understood that mentality. If you took care of things, they had a tendency to last longer. And if it required a little extra attention now and then, so be it.

Jack slanted a look at Evie. From the expression on her face, she thought his entire apartment needed attention.

“Harley!” Ava spotted the gigantic black-and-white cat curled up in a nest of tarps beside the paint cans.

The cat didn't belong to Jack, but like the rest of the tenants in the building, it somehow managed to find its way into his apartment on a regular basis.

Ava cut between the ancient plaid couch and the black walnut coffee table Jack had rescued from the curb the week he'd moved in.

Evie gasped when a head—decorated with multiple piercings—popped up from underneath the pile of blankets.

“That you, Jack?” The blanket slipped another notch, and bloodshot eyes squinted in his direction.

“Yup.” Andy was one of the reasons Jack didn't lock his door. “Time to rise and shine.”

The young man pushed a lank strand of ink-black hair from his eyes and yawned so wide his jaw cracked. “What time is it?”

Jack glanced at his watch. “Almost time for your shift to start.”

Andy yelped and rolled off the couch. “Catch you later.” He charged past them, leaving the faint scent of motor oil in his wake as he bolted out the door.

Evie watched him go, her hand still pressed against her heart. “Who—”

“That's Andy. Sometimes he catches a nap before his shift starts.”

“On your couch?”

Jack shrugged. “It's more comfortable than the backseat of his car.”

Evie stared at him. Probably trying to figure out if he was joking.

He wasn't. “His wife, Serena, runs an in-home daycare, so he can't sleep there in the daytime.”

The first time Jack had met his upstairs neighbor, Andy had been tossing a pillow into the backseat of the rusty Oldsmobile parked in front of the building. Jack recognized the signs of an all-night bender. Andy's red-rimmed eyes and slow speech were collateral damage brought on by long shifts, the kids that Serena took care of for a little extra cash, and Amber Lynn, the young couple's colicky infant. Jack told Andy his couch was available during the day, but this was the first time he'd taken Jack up on the offer.

And of course it had to be the first time Evie visited his apartment.

Grace stirred in Jack's arms and her eyes fluttered open. He shifted her to the other hip and noticed the telltale damp spot on his T-shirt.

Evie saw it too.

Jack shook his head. “Wardrobe malfunction.”

A smile bloomed in Evie's eyes, and Jack felt that strange tug again. The one that occurred whenever he caught a glimpse of the
current flowing underneath her tranquil surface. It drew him. Made him want to get to know her better.

But that meant Evie would get to know
him
better too.

Jack could only imagine what her reaction would be if she found out how closely the apartment resembled his life at the moment.

Not really a work in progress though. More like a construction zone.

A little loud, a little messy, and a whole lot of unpredictable.

It would be better—safer—if Evie stayed where she belonged.

And something told Jack it would be safer for him too.

C
HAPTER
14

T
hanks again for your help.”

Jack didn't bother to wait for Evie to respond.

He just strode away with Grace and disappeared through a doorway on the opposite side of the room.

The fluorescent light on the ceiling flickered. A little natural light might brighten the place up. Evie made her way over to the window, on the lookout for anything that might be considered a potential hazard for small children.

Luke and Ava didn't seem to think anything of Jack's abrupt departure. Ava sat on the floor with the cat draped across her lap, its lime-green eyes half closed, purring like a rusty chainsaw. Luke was a few feet away, constructing a tower from pieces of wood he'd found in a box underneath the window. Evie was about to suggest he put them away when she noticed that all the edges had been sanded smooth.

She began to pull up the window shades, one by one. They were so old and brittle she was afraid they would crumble in her hand.

Late-afternoon sunlight chased the shadows into the corners but didn't do anything to improve the overall look of the apartment. If anything, it magnified the deep gashes that marred the surface of the hardwood floor and the nails that sprouted from the walls, marking the spots where pictures had hung.

“Will you hold Bitsy while I get her some fresh water?” Lily deposited the guinea pig into Evie's arms before she could answer and dashed into the kitchen.

“Where's Jack?”

Evie almost dropped Bitsy. She hadn't heard the door open—or seen the elderly man shuffle in. But then, maybe
he'd
been hiding in the furniture too.

At least a head shorter than Evie and as thin as one of the spindles on the staircase, the man had wizened features, accentuated by a pointed chin and piercing blue eyes. He reminded her of a garden gnome.

“Jack,” he repeated, a bit louder this time. “Is he here?”

“He's . . . busy at the moment.”

Instead of leaving, the man claimed one of the threadbare chairs arranged around the coffee table.

“I can take her now.” Lily returned, holding a shallow dish of water. “Hi, Mr. Ron.”

The man responded with a noise that sounded more like a snort than a hello, but it made Evie feel a little better knowing Lily had encountered the visitor before.

“Mission accomplished. Grace fell back to—” Jack strode back into the room barefoot, and shock registered briefly in his eyes.

Evie's gaze bounced from Jack to the man in the chair and back again. “You have company.”

“I see that.” Jack's smile surfaced again.

He'd changed into a dry T-shirt, and a few strands of tawny hair dipped over his forehead. Evie felt a tiny curl in the pit of her stomach. It was close to suppertime. Her blood sugar was probably crashing.

“Ron . . . how is it going?” Jack veered into the kitchen and turned on the faucet. The pipes rattled and shook for a few seconds before a stream of light-pink water appeared. “I missed you yesterday.”

“I had an appointment at the VA.” A bone-rattling cough ripped through the man's body. “Took 'em three hours to tell me what I already knew.” He looked at Evie. “I'm dying.”

Evie wasn't sure how to respond, but Jack didn't appear the least bit shocked.

“Ron”—he informed Evie calmly—“is always dying.”

“Well, I'm one day closer than I was yesterday,” the man retorted.

“Why didn't you tell me you had an appointment?” The water finally turned the color that water should be—no color at all—and Jack stuck a pan underneath it. “I would have driven you to the hospital.”

“Heard you got another job. And I don't expect you to haul my carcass around. Not when you got someone like Blondie here to keep you company.” Ron wiggled his eyebrows at Evie. “She's a whole lot prettier than I am.”

“Definitely prettier.” Jack coaxed the tiny blue flame underneath the burner into full bloom. “And she smells better too.”

Prettier.
Evie didn't have time to process the compliment because Jack finally got around to making the introductions.

“Evie, this is Ron. Ron, Evie.”

“It's nice to meet you.”

“I live in 3C.” Ron jerked a thumb toward the ceiling.

“Are you sure about that?” Jack lifted a brow. “Because every time I turn around, you're sitting in my chair.”

Instead of looking offended, Ron's cackle echoed around the room. “Someone has to make sure you don't drop a ceiling on your head.”

“Give me a break. That was
one
time.”

Jack grinned, and the curl in Evie's stomach unfurled and traveled all the way down to her toes.

Nothing seemed to rattle the man. Not people sleeping on his
couch. Not wet diapers or neighbors who wandered into his apartment without knocking first.

“Lily?” Jack waved a white dishcloth to get her attention. “Will you set the table, please?”

The girl bounded into the kitchen, but Jack stopped her before she opened the drawer. “Hands.”

Lily obediently reached for the soap dispenser on the counter and thumped the handle in rapid succession until a drop of liquid appeared. “How many forks?”

“I'm not sure.”

He wasn't
sure
? How could you not know how many people would be eating dinner at your table?

Jack opened the cupboard door. On the shelf, boxes of spaghetti were stacked like cordwood. Apparently he hadn't been teasing when he told Luke it was the only thing he knew how to make.

“I saw this on TV.” Lily folded one of the white paper napkins into an envelope and tucked a fork inside. “I think they look prettier this way, don't you?”

Jack stopped to admire her work. “I agree.”

“Gracie's waking up.” Luke paused in the middle of his building project, one ear cocked toward the hallway.

“I'll be right back.” Jack reached for a towel and wiped his hands. “The marinara sauce is in the cupboard. Second shelf from the bottom.”

It took Evie a moment to realize he was talking to her.

Jack had heard Ron come in. The person he hadn't expected to see in his living room was Evie.

Spine straight, hands curled at her sides. Poised to flee.

So why hadn't she?

And why hadn't he politely escorted her to the door instead of putting her to work?

Over the past few days he had caught fleeting glimpses of Evie in motion. Gliding through the day, her schedule divided into sections as neat and organized as the Post-it notes she left in the custodian's room. Completely comfortable in her surroundings. Completely confident in her routine.

Jack couldn't teach her the steps to this crazy dance. At the moment, he was making them up as he went along.

Which was why he experienced a sudden disconnect between his mouth and his brain when Evie skirted around him and reached for one of the boxes in the cupboard.

He hadn't been lying to Ron. She
did
smell good. A delicate floral scent layered with an intriguing hint of something—vanilla, maybe—that made Jack want to bury his face in the curve of her neck and solve the mystery . . .

“Jack?”

Oh.
Man.

The expectant look on her face told Jack she'd asked him a question.

“Sorry. I got distracted for a second.”

“What do you think?” Evie repeated.

“I—”
Nope.
Couldn't tell her truth.