Page 67 of Unexpected Heroine

Actually . . . I begged for it.

Her eyes refocus, and she locks them on mine. “You can never achieve those moments of bliss if you don’t help each other through the highs and the lows. Sure, from the bottom, you could push with your legs to get up a little. But all the pushing in the world won’t amount to a hill of beans without the other person to balance the seesaw and propel you the rest of the way up.”

My mind wanders a bit while she takes a breath.

If she’s trying to say she and I are balanced, I don’t get it. For something to be balanced, there must be value on both sides. Lettie is all of the good. The light. The joy. The warmth.

What value could I ever offer someone like her?

Continuing her story, she raises two fingers in front of her and points them at my chest, then back at hers a few times in quick succession. “You and I have that balance.”

I narrow my eyes at her in disbelief.

She screws her lips to one side and eyes me down. “My head is chaos most of the time. You’re typically clear-minded. I flutter about like a free spirit, singing songs and dreaming dreams. You’re steady and calm. And you’re the only one in the world who has helped me to experience... quiet serenity. On the flip side, when we met, you were shut off from your emotions. Didn’t laugh all that much, and your smiles seemed forced. Now, I could be wrong, yet I like to think some of that was my doing.”

She smiles again, but this time, it’s not sad or wistful.

It’s radiating affection.

For me.

“Anyhow, while I was hiding in a closet, cowering in fear, I heard your voice. You pulled me from the darkness and brought me into the light. It’s my turn to pull you into the light. That’s how we keep the balance. So we can have those moments of wonder when we’re suspended in time at the midway point, and everything else is gone except us. All you gotta do is push a little with your legs, and I’ll do the rest. Just like you did for me. And if I’m honest, I might need you to do it for me again real soon.”

This woman and her metaphors about inanimate objects. She called me a chair once, and damn if she wasn’t right on the money then too.

Gazing into her enchanting eyes, I tuck a lock of hair behind her ears, letting my fingers linger and twirl through the tresses. “I wish I could’ve met your papa. He sounds like he was a good man. I’m glad you had him.”

Her eyes mist over. “Me too.”

“Thank you, sugar bear.”

She pats my cheek affectionately. “You look more relaxed. Are you feeling a little better?”

“Better is a relative term, all things considered.” I lift one shoulder in a partial shrug. “But yeah. I’m good.”

“And you’re gonna stay with me tonight, right?”

I nod solemnly, acceptance settling onto my shoulders, bearing down with the slightest weight.

“Good.”

Her gaze falls to my mouth a second before she leans in and presses her lips to mine.

It soothes me in much the same way her silly metaphor did. Or maybe it was just her presence that did it.

She could have told me a story about a hot air balloon careening into a peach grove and catching it on fire, and I would have felt equally as comforted.

Although I’m not entirely sure I believe we’re in balance, having her in my arms gave me precisely what I needed to get through the night.

As much as I want to race out the door and hunt them down like the animals they are, it will have to wait.

Lettie needs me more than I need vengeance.

As our lips part, she says the one thing I’ve longed to hear since the day we met.

“Thank you . . . Tomer.”

Heaven.

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