Runaway Heart (A Game of Hearts #2) (26 page)

I took a step back, confused.

“You’re a lot like me, kid. A backbone for days.”

“I’m nothing like you.” My blood boiled like a pressure cooker. “Where’s my mother?”

He found my eyes again and, this time, there was pain there. Not anger. Not hatred. Just pure pain.

“She found her backbone.” He paused, looking to the floor as he shook his head and laughed. “Can you believe it was all the way in England?”

England?

The single word had the power equivalent to a punch. To a jammer slamming into me. She went to England. The place I just left.

The very same place that haunted my dreams.

England had become more than just a country. More than just a place where I recently visited and returned from. It was
his
home. A place that held my heart. A place that healed me, without me being aware.

Every muscle in my body jumped under my skin, screaming for me wake up.

I looked at my father, head tilted to the side and, as if an invisible pair of sheers closed its razor-sharp edges between us, I felt the last thread of pain between us snip in half and fall away.

“I’m done here,” I said, almost incredulously as I turned back to Maggie. Feeling like I was already ten steps behind where I should be.

With
him
.

“You’re just going to leave? Not say anything else to him?” she asked, peeking over my shoulder.

My legs felt like a foal’s as I stumbled back on shaky laughter. “What else is there to say? He was never my father. Not in the real sense. All he was to me was a fear. A shadow in the corner.” I paused, turning back to look at him one last time, and said, “And now the light has been switched on.”

He didn’t say anything when I walked away from him. I didn’t expect him to.

“Hannah?” Maggie hesitantly said.

“What?” I shut the front door behind me, not bothering to look back.

“I know where your mother is.”

My footsteps halted in the middle of the sidewalk. “Repeat that again?”

She chewed the inside of her cheek and put her weight on one foot. “I-I didn’t get a chance to tell you before, but she left an address with my father.”

My brain felt like it melted. “And you just let me go in there? Knowing I didn’t have to?”

She reached for my hand, eyes leveled on me. “You did have to, Hannah. In all the ways that matter, you needed to.”

I didn’t know if I wanted to hate her or hug her. Sure… I finally closed the door to my past. The one where monsters crept out of at night… and then I realized. “Thank you,” I said, pulling her into a hug.

“You’re welcome,” she replied, understanding completely what I meant.

I turned as we headed down the street in search of a cab. “So what now?”

A smile broke across my lips as the weight that bore down on me my whole life finally lifted.

“My mother found her backbone. It’s time I found mine.”

TIME. IT STOOD STILL FOR me.

Even with everything going on around me, time, it seemed, had dug its heels in and refused to move forward. Faster. Anywhere.

One day blended into a week, which turned into several months. We’d talked, Hannah and me, a few times. Sporadically.

And then she stopped calling.

I’d picked up the phone what seemed like a million times, only to put it down again. It seemed wrong, calling her, when I told her I’d wait. Told her she was the only one for me. No matter how much I longed to hear her voice, I didn’t want to push her. Didn’t want to make her feel like I was asking more of her than she was willing to give. I needed her fully and completely, on her terms, if we were to ever make it work.

In a nutshell?

I was nothing more than a hollow person seeking the love of a broken girl.

Could I have been fooling myself in believing we were meant to be? That we were just what one another needed?

It hurt. Ached, really.

But I kept myself moving onward, even with the absence of time. The absence of her.

The vibration of my cell phone in my back pocket made my heart jump. Hannah.

Please let it be her.

I answered the phone, trying my hardest not to sound disappointed. “Hello, Aunt Della.”

“Not who ye were expecting?” Her voice held the slight tremor of a laugh.

“How are ye?” I asked, choosing not to delve into my expectations.

“I’m doing wonderful. And yourself?”

I looked around the stocked supply room. Business was flourishing. The pub gained more patrons since Charlie and I hired Violet. Her ideas on how to bring in new customers had been brilliant. For such a small person, Violet had a personality as big as the moon. Not to mention a vast amount of unending ideas that gave the pub a lot of exposure. I wasn’t sure I’d seen Charlie smile so much in my life. And having Violet around kept me from slinking off further into my misery.

“I’m good. Been really busy lately.” I shut the stockroom door and made my way to the back of the pub where I could finish my conversation with Della without interruption.

“Not too busy for your aunt, I hope?” I could hear the smile in her voice.

“Never too busy for ye. Is everything all right?” Aunt Della hardly ever called out of the blue. Christmas and Easter were a given. I always heard from her during the holidays for gatherings.

“I’m having an event, well, more like a small social gathering for the house,” she said, pausing for a brief moment. In all the time she’d run the women’s shelter, she’d never called it such. It was ‘the house’, a place where anyone needing assistance could seek refuge, and it was just that… their house. Ever since Aunt Della married Elliot and he took on her and her passion, they’d worked in tandem, creating a safe place for those in need. It had grown over the years. Rooms renovated. Additions added.

Women from around the world graced the halls of the house. It was something to be quite proud of. It was also very expensive to run, which was why Della would hold gatherings, or small galas, to help cover the vast expenses of running such a place.

“Elliot came up with the idea to take some of the art the women have created and auction it off. Brilliant idea, if ye ask me… and it gives those who’ve created the pieces a little more pride in themselves. And ye know me, I love a good party,” she finished.

“So ye need a bartender?”

“I don’t typically bring in men, as ye well know the reasons why. But this event will be a little different from most. Even Elliot will be joining us,” Della said, excitement bubbling in her voice.

“Just tell me when ye need me and I’ll be there.” I caught sight of Violet waving madly in my direction to get my attention.

“This Saturday at three. Oh, and, Ed, be a dear and wear your best dress coat,” Aunt Della said before ringing off.

Best dress coat? Must be one fancy event,
I thought, shrugging it off as I slipped my phone back into my pocket and made my way toward Violet.

“What’s up?” I asked, expecting a problem.

“Watch the bar for me. I have to go to the loo before I piss myself,” Violet hissed beside my ear before darting off.

The pub was full. Drinks needed to be refilled. I found my groove, losing myself back into the hustle and bustle, getting through another hiccup in time without Hannah.

AUNT DELLA MET ME AT the front door. Beyond her were tables stacked neatly against the wall as a handful of women chatted together, setting them up one table at a time. All of her parties were like that—the women of the shelter erecting the layout of tables and chairs. Men were not typically found in any setting that dealt with them, unless of course, it was family. Each of them knew who I was. They would have seen my picture or heard my aunt rave on about me.

In some ways, I was sure, it settled them. Made me being around a little easier for them.

And Della typically didn’t bring me around until those who were there were only steps away from leaving the house and comfortable with going back into society.

“Ed, you look dashing!” Della said, stepping back as she beamed at my choice of clothing.

My finger went to my shirt collar, tugging at the tight feel of it. “Thank you, Aunt Della. Ye look beautiful as ever.”

She swatted at my arm. “Ye know I don’t get dressed up for these things until it’s time.”

I grinned back at her, knowing full well she wouldn’t change out of the tracksuit she wore until everything was in place. Della didn’t just delegate the work going on around her, she dove headfirst to help get it all done. She’d told me once that trust breeds trust. Hard work and the willingness to jump in right alongside someone to get the job done showed those who looked up to you what basic human nature should be. Just because it was a hard job, or a dirty one, didn’t mean anyone should feel above themselves about doing it.

“What can I help ye with?” The words, like magic, prompted a list of things to do as long as my arm.

“Once ye’re done with that, Elliot will help ye with the bar.” Aunt Della patted my cheek and left me to it.

I’D HAULED LINENS AND UNFOLDED chairs. Hung strands of lights and helped situate pots of flowers around the room. I’d brought out the easels from the art room and set them up in various spots, and I’d fetched box after box of table decorations and helped distribute them before my list was done.

The only thing left to set up was the bar.

Elliot popped in earlier, snagging my attention to let me know he’d either be in the kitchen or his office, and then told me to come and find him when I was ready.

Leaving the grand entryway in search of Elliot, I tucked my hands in my pockets and enjoyed the last few minutes of quiet before the bustling activity the gala would surely bring. I’d always loved Della’s house. No matter how many times I’d walked through each room, or across the grounds, it always gave me a sense of wonder.

The house itself was invisibly split in half because of the layout once past the front door. It might have, at one time, been a grand living room, but once Aunt Della and Elliot bought it, it became many things. Small family gatherings were held there on holidays. Every so often, a gala event to help raise money. It was a rather large room, fitting twenty round tables with plenty of space to move around.

Aunt Della claimed it was the heart of the house.

The west wing was off limits to visitors and family alike. It had its own ebb and flow of activity. Women seeking shelter didn’t much care for strangers poking around and making them uncomfortable. I’d asked Aunt Della about it once. Why she’d have parties when it brought in so many strangers? She’d smiled and explained the west wing was a self-sufficient structure inside the house, and the women living there were always informed of every activity going on. Should they choose to participate, they could. If not, that was fine too.

“They’re learning to live again, without fear, but they can’t sequester themselves away and hide from the world either. This house gives them stability and safety while they gain their independence again.”

I made my way down a short hallway that opened up into what I’d always thought of as Aunt Della’s quarters—a cozy living room. Family pictures were hung on the walls. A smattering of knickknacks was placed here and there, along with the furniture. Elliot’s jacket was laid along the back of the couch next to a deep red throw blanket for those nights when the chill in the air required it.

Another short hallway brought me past the bathroom and toward Elliot’s office. I heard the deep timber of his voice as he spoke. Another quieter voice answered and I wavered, wondering if I should interrupt. It was possible he was just going over last-minute details with Aunt Della.

My body froze when I heard it.

A laugh. But not just any laugh. It was
her
laugh.

Hannah’s laugh.

I flashed hot, and then cold. Excitement shot through me.
Could it really be her? Why would she be here instead of finding me?
I pushed past the questions and knocked a little harder than I’d intended.

Elliot called me in, standing from one of the chairs placed in front of his desk. The other chair was occupied by a woman I’d never seen before, yet who looked strangely familiar.

“Ed, I was just about to come find ye,” Elliot said, coming over and putting his hand on my shoulder.

I couldn’t help it when my eyes darted over to the woman again, curiosity getting the best of me.

Elliot followed my gaze, smiling. “Ed, this is my cousin, Danielle. Dany, this is my wife’s nephew, Edward.”

“Pleased to meet you, Danielle,” I said, watching her shift uncomfortably in her seat.

“Dany’s just arrived last week from America.” Elliot beamed.

“America?” I damn near swallowed my tongue.

“Moved there with her parents… what… when you were eight? Took the whole family by surprise when they did it. I think I cried myself to sleep for half the year. Not very manly to admit I suppose, but I was five when she left. Up until then, we were thicker than thieves ye might say.

Danielle, or Dany rather, looked up at him, a pained smile on her face.

I lost all ability to breathe. Her eyes, storm gray and haunting, seized my lungs.