Page 21 of Shielding His Heart
“Just wish I didn’t have to leave her so soon. You’ve seen how she is.” Even the thought of her being by herself has me wanting to crawl out of my skin.
“How’s she handling everything?” Walker asks with a tinge of amusement at my obvious discomfort.
I get a rag and start wiping down the already clean counters. “I don’t know, man. I used to be able to read her. Now it’s like she’s written with a different code. I don’t know a damn thing about her now.”
Remy pushes back from the table and goes to the water machine to refill his cup. “Why don’t you just call her?”
This coming from him is somewhat out of character. As far as I know, Remy doesn’t date. In fact, there’s been speculation around the station that he’s either celibate or asexual. Not that I’m judging. Clearly, relationships are hard work. Even so, I wouldn’t trade my relationship—with all its complications—with Tana for the world.
Finished scrubbing the counters, I put the clean dishes away. “I would, but I’m trying to give her some space. I can’t do that if I’m bugging her every half hour.”
Remy sips contemplated leave from his class. “I would just call her.”
Maybe I should. But I get off shift in a few hours. If something was wrong, she would call me. Right?
The final few hours of my shift drag on. I prefer to stay busy as it keeps my mind off of things. In that respect, going back to work is a relief. Running calls and the monotony of paperwork help distract me from whatever Tana might be doing at home. Or how the girls are feeling. Or what the future is going to look like. Of course, this would be the one day we don’t get any calls. Seriously. I would kill for a fucking heart attack or overdose. Normally I use the free time to catch up on coursework or finish reports, but all I can do is think about Tana.
My brain keeps wrestling with itself, trying to figure out a way to make everything work for everyone. But in this instance, there just aren’t any easy answers. Only hard ones and more questions.
Finally, I get off work and head straight home. Mom is supposed to bring the girls over in time for dinner, which works as it’ll give me some time to see how Tana is feeling.
As I turn into the driveway, my eyes cross over to the broken down cars at the house next door. I scowl, shoving down the surge of emotion at the sight and force my thoughts back to seeing Tana. I double-time my steps as I move to the door. I push it open, expecting to see Tana right away but am surprised to find the living room empty, the TV still blaring some true crime show, and loud music coming from the backyard. My brows pull together. My wife has never been the true crime sort. She always found that sort of thing too depressing.The KardashiansorReal Housewiveswas more her speed. And since when does she listen to country?
I call out her name, but she probably can’t hear me over the music. My heart is galloping at the prospect of seeing her like it hasn’t done in years. Don’t get me wrong, I love my wife, but I haven’t felt so excited at the thought of seeing her since we first started dating. There’s an ease when you’ve been with a person for over a decade like we have. I’m not complaining about it. The only drama I like in my life is when I deal with emergencies at work. After Tana’s accident, even that has lost a bit of his allure. But I have to admit I am enjoying feeling like we get to do a little of the dating dance again.
It’s both a rediscovery of her. . . and of how we work together. If we still will. I’m looking forward to the challenge of proving I’m the only one for her. . . now and forever.
If this were the Tana before her accident, she’d be in the attic retrieving all of her supplies to get started on her latest project or business idea. If she wasn’t doing that, she’d be coming back from a shopping trip, loaded down with dozens of bags.
But no.
I find her at the source of the music in the backyard, up to her elbows in the dirt, with the most adorable streak of grime on her cheeks. Did she forget to turn off the TV? The doctor said things like that would happen occasionally. I worry about whether she’s forgetting other things until I realize she’s wearing tight as hell cut-off jean shorts, her thighs lush and thick spread a little to compensate for her off-center gravity. And I am suddenly viciously reminded of them wrapped around my head. My mouth goes dry.
I ache with wanting her.
I always have, and I always will.
“What you doing there?” My voice comes out a little gruff.
She doesn’t react. In fact, she digs another hole with a spade and flops a purple pansy down in the fresh hole. “Tana?”
She still doesn’t seem to hear me over the sounds of the music and her singing along. And then her hips begin to do a little wiggle.Goddamn.
She asked me once before if I were an ass or tits man. I told her I was her man. But watching her shimmy and wiggle, I identify as an ass man. Ass, all the way. The way I would worship her if I could, she wouldn’t be able to walk for a week. I’d show her exactly how much I missed her. Exactly how grateful I am that she’s with me in any capacity, with any complications. I’d have it all. I want it all. I want her any way I can take her because there is no one else for me.
My cock grows painfully hard in my uniform pants. Blood pulses thick and hot, playing a wild tattoo in my veins. I have to get a hold of myself, but I can’t seem to tear my eyes away from her ass. My knees buckle, and I fall into a garden chair and watch her plant flowers along the flowerbeds around our patio.
I can’t seem to take my eyes off her. For the first time since the accident, she seems unburdened. And here I thought I’d come home and find her wallowing or frightened and hiding. Though I shouldn’t be surprised she’s doing the opposite. She’s always been a fighter. In fact, of the two of us, I’d say she’s the stronger one a thousand times over. I guess some things haven’t changed.
I freeze when she shifts back on her heels and gets to her feet. Her knees are covered with dirt, and her gloved hands are caked in mud. Her face is sweaty and flushed, and her hair is coming free of the ponytail at her nape, but she has never looked more beautiful. Her face is still a halo of bruises underneath the pink flush from the sun, but she looks healthier than she has in a while. Vital. At least that’s a relief.
Before she woke up in the hospital, I thought I was going to lose her. I imagined a thousand scenarios where her condition could suddenly destabilize, and she’d slip away from me. Seeing her alive and well and so goddamn beautiful it makes my chest hurt is a relief I can’t quantify. The amnesia almost doesn’t even matter anymore. She’s here. She’smine. I just have to help her see it.
Tana jerks a little when she notices me sitting there. Turning down the music, she says, “Oh my God! You scared me. How long have you been sitting there?”
“Not long. Just got home.” I nod to the flowers. “What are you doing here?”
She rubs a hand along her forehead, smearing more dirt and making me smile. “Well, I got bored hanging around the house. And I noticed the backyard looked a little sad, so I cut the grass and started weeding. Then it looked so bare I thought it needed flowers. I hope you don’t mind. You said I could use your card, and I figured the girls would like it. I can pay you back if—”
