Page 3 of Salvaged Hearts

“With all due respect, Mr. Hart, laying roots requires spending enough time out of the office to plant them in the first place. And, seeing as you video chatted me during my lastOBGYN appointment, I can assure you I have nothing in this city holding me back.” Heat scaled my neck and face like ivy up a brick wall. That was certainly the boldest I’d ever been with the man.

“I wouldn’t be so sure of that,” he muttered but glanced at his watch like he always did when he was uncomfortable. “I’ll see you on Monday, Ms. Rhodes.” And with that dismissal, he turned his attention back to his computer, leaving me staring daggers at the man who’d done nothing but make my life miserable for the last two years.No more. No more would I settle for a job that paid well but sucked the soul from my body. Irritated, I turned to leave the room, but his last statement hung like a guillotine over my head.

I wouldn’t be so sure of that.

What on God’s green earth did that mean?

Greyson

“Well, that’s a fucking shame,”a tiny voice, muffled through a barrier, crept into my office the moment the door closed behind my assistant. I chuckled under my breath and shook my head, pushing my wheeled chair back. Turning, I bent to the cabinets in the hutch behind my desk and pulled one open.

“Mattie,” I growled, staring at my niece, where she’d crammed herself into the tiny cupboard. She was too big, really. It was a wonder how she even folded herself in there like human origami. For as long as she’d been mobile, she’d always been searching for cubbies. Places to hide, I supposed. Couldn’t exactly blame her. Rolling her eyes, she set her paperback onthe black sweater over her chest and glared my way as I added, “We’ve talked about this.”

“The cupboard is a perfectly adequate space to study,” she stated flatly.Ten going on nineteen, apparently.This girl had always been too bright for her own good. She ran laps around my brother by the time she could articulate.

Odd, but brilliant.

It took all my years of training not to crack a smile when she lifted the novel and adjusted her book light. With an exasperated sigh, I snatched it.

Examining the cover despite her protests, I scowled down atThe Hobbitbefore turning my glare in her direction. “I wasn’t talking about hiding in corners, Mattie. I was talking about your trucker’s vocabulary.”

Hazel-blue eyes rolled like loose marbles as she lolled her head my way, extending her expectant hand. “Come on, Uncle Grey, Dad’s still in his meeting.”

“And where areyousupposed to be?” I carefully marked her place, although what a ten-year-old was doing reading Tolkien, I didn’t understand. Shouldn’t she be into Judy Bloom or crime-solving dogs or something?

“I have a fever,” she announced victoriously, curling her little fingers as if I’d return her contraband. The book thudded against my marble desk, earning a groan of protest from a mutinous-looking pre-teen. Kneeling beside her, I swallowed my smile as she reared back, meeting the unforgiving back of the cabinet and muttering another curse as I set my wrist against her perfectly temperate forehead.

“What’d you do this time? Hot pad in your locker?”

A wicked smile curved her little mouth when I sat on the floor beside her. “Hand warmers,” she admitted, tucking her light brown hair behind her ear.

“Christ, Mattie.”

“And you’re worried aboutmymouth?”

“I’m not ten.”

“Nona would have your?—”

Brows raised, I clamped my palm over her mouth, shaking my head. “You were saying?” I flicked open the other cabinet door so she could at least be exposed to proper ventilation, then leaned against my desk.

For a solid ninety seconds, we stared each other down. My niece was unwilling to compromise why she’d—yet again—gotten herself sent home, whileIwould not let her continue to get away with this cycle. Finally, evidently sensing impending defeat, she sighed, resting her head against the wood surface as she scratched behind an ear.

Wrinkling her freckled nose, she confessed, “They were going to make us dissect frogs today.”

“Ahh,” I murmured with a nod.

“And Mr. Koraski paired me with Fisher.”

The downside to being born with more brains than anyone knew what to do with was being pushed grades beyond her age. Her parents had to make the impossible decision between allowing her to be intellectually challenged or socially accepted. Bullies were always wretched in middle school, but especially so when you were two years younger—and a good head and shoulders smaller—than your peers. When I was a kid, a little asshole named Dalton had ceaselessly tormented me. Hocked into dumpsters like yesterday’s trash. Blindsided by right hooks coming out of the locker room. It wasn’t until I outgrew the bastard in high school that I could finally fight back.

Fisher was Mattie’s Dalton. His assaults weren’t physical, but he loved to torment her, steal her things, or dump chocolate milk on her on picture day. It was his daddy’s fat wallet that kept him atEmerald Prep.

Sighing, I asked, “That hasn’t improved since your dad met with the headmaster?”

She shook her head, explaining, “Fisher’s just an angry kid, but that doesn’t mean I want to deal with his bullshit.”

“Mattie,” I growled, and she rolled those stubborn eyes again.

---