Taking Heart (3 page)

Now a complete stranger wanted to know what she’d kept hidden from sight
for so long, and the strange thing was that she was actually considering
telling him. She was either losing her mind—or maybe, she was finally
ready to start letting go.

Ren bent over and retied both her shoelaces, then fixed her ponytail. She
picked lint off her sweater. She straightened the magazines in the pocket.
Finally, when she had nothing left but the truth, she took a deep shaky breath
and said, “Several weeks ago, there was a death.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. Now I have to go to his apartment in Winter Park and clean it out,
throw away the proof that he existed.” She swallowed heavily and felt the
familiar pressure of tears behind her eyes.

She was surprised to feel the weight of his hand on her arm, his fingers
squeezing a little, but he thankfully said nothing. She would have lost it
otherwise.

“Needless to say, I’ve been a bit of a mess recently. I’m hoping that after
this trip I’ll finally be able to move on.”

“Then I hope you get your closure,” he said, so gently she looked at him
in surprise.

He lifted his hand from her arm and ran it through his short hair. “My
Dad died when I was five. Heart attack,” he said. “So I sort of know that
feeling of loss. I was the one who called 911. I watched him die before my
eyes. I didn't know how to save him. I wasn’t even old enough to understand
what death was.”

“It wasn't your fault. God, you were only five.”

He smiled crookedly. “Don’t worry. I’ve had plenty of therapy since
then.”

She chewed on her bottom lip. “I wasn’t there when he died. I only found
out over the phone. I never got to say a proper goodbye.”

“Damn,” he said with a quick little exhale. “Aren’t we just a bag of
puppies and sunshine?”

Ren burst out laughing, enjoying the small feeling of lightness that
followed. “Then by all means, let’s please talk about something positive.”

At that same moment, the Captain’s voice came over the cabin to announce
the beginning of their descent.

Ren caught Eric's eye and they shared a moment of silent understanding.

“This has got to be the fastest two and a half hour flight I’ve ever
taken,” he said, and Ren voiced her agreement. They spent the next thirty
minutes in companionable silence, their arms resting side by side on the
armrest. It was officially time to start saying goodbye. The thought filled Ren
with unexpected gloom.

As they waited to deplane with their luggage in hand, Ren turned to him
and said, “It was nice talking you.”

He smiled, and she allowed herself the luxury of savoring his dimples one
last time. “You too, but I never got your name?”

They began the awkward waddle towards the exit. “Renee. Ren for short.”

“My name’s Eric,” he said before the sunglasses reemerged and covered his
eyes once more. “Hope your trip goes well.”

“You too. See you around.” With a wave, they walked away from each other,
he to baggage claim and she towards the exit to face bright and cheerful
Colorado.

chapter
two

Ren drove down I-70 in the tiny rental car, enjoying the wind rushing in
through the open window and disheveling her loose hair. She’d driven this same
route many times in the past, the view of the majestic mountains never failing
to leave her breathless. This time, however, the magnificent peaks only served
to remind her that mountains, however beautiful, were dangerous, and would take
lives without prejudice. All of a sudden, Colorado’s landscape took on a grim
form, a row of razor sharp teeth poised to take a bite out of the blue sky.

The memory of the morning of that phone call came rushing back at her.
She tried her hardest to tune it out, even turned up the radio in hopes of
drowning out its whispers, but nothing would or could stop the onslaught of the
memory.

She had been sleeping in after a late night decorating two cakes at the
bakery. She vividly remembered the soreness in her hand from squeezing the
piping bag as she'd reached for the phone.

“Ren.” Linda’s voice had a raw quality, and she’d never ever called Ren
by her nickname before. That’s when Ren knew that something was wrong. She
figured that maybe Linda’s husband, Brad, had suffered a heart attack, or maybe
Ben's grandmother had had a stroke. Ren was not at all prepared when Linda
said, “It’s Ben.”

“What is it?” Ren shot up, just like they always do in the movies, and
began to hyperventilate before she could even begin to prepare for what was to
come next. “What happened?”

Linda sobbed for an excruciating moment before she collected herself and
said, “He had an accident at the slopes. The snow was already in bad shape, and
Ben hit a mogul wrong and lost one ski and…”

“And? Linda, and?” Tears were flowing down her face, and she knew, just
knew that Ben was gone. “Linda, tell me what happened to Ben. Please.”

“He hit a tree and broke his neck,” the older lady said and began to cry
in earnest, great big racking sobs. Ben was her only child. “He’s gone, Ren.
He’s gone.”

Ren's first instinct was to shut down to avoid feeling the clutching pain
in her chest, but all Ren could think of was what Ben would do if he were in
her situation, if it had been her who had died. And she knew with absolute
certainty that, even though he would be silently devastated, he would put up a
wall and be strong, because that was the kind of person he was. And now that
she’d lost that person, she wanted to take his place in the world, however
inadequate the replacement.

The sun was beginning to set by the time Ren drove through the windy
Berthoud Pass. As she entered the Winter Park city limits, the pit of anxiety
in her stomach grew steadily until she was soaking in sweat.

Can I really do this?
she
thought as she drove through the familiar
streets, her body on autopilot now that her brain could no longer be trusted to
think clearly. Her hands were visibly shaking by the time she pulled into the
apartment complex; it was a miracle she managed to park the car at all.

As she exited the car, she avoided looking up at the second floor
balcony, afraid that memories of nights with blankets and large mugs of hot
cocoa would assault her already fragile mind. Her eyes were glued to the
concrete steps as she made her way up the building, trying to think of anything
but the tomb that she was about to enter.

She forced her brain to think about the handsome man she’d sat next to on
the plane.
Eric the Douchebag
she had come to call him, though he had
proven to be anything but. He had been nice to talk to and had actually made
the excruciating plane ride tolerable with his loose lips and deep dimples. If
they had met at a different time in their lives, they might have even become
friends.

All thoughts of Eric wisped away into the late afternoon breeze when Ren
pushed open Ben's apartment door. The smell was the first assault to her
senses, that special mixture of pine leaves and Irish Spring soap that was
unmistakable, even under the summer funk. Ben’s smell wafted up her nose and
instantly made her eyes water. She thought two months had been enough to
recover, but her trembling insides said otherwise.

As if she’d lost all control of her body, her eyes closed and her lungs
took in the air.

“Ben,” she whispered. With blurry eyes, she dropped her bag by the door
and walked onward into the apartment she’d come to know so well. Everywhere she
looked, she could see traces of Ben, as if she’d suddenly developed super
eyesight and could see his fingerprints on every surface he’d touched. Seven
weeks ago he’d been here, alive and well.

Was he happy?
The thought flicked through her mind as she came across an empty Mary
Jane Mountain mug on the floor by the couch. Due to their conflicting
schedules, they had not talked in a few days, which would have normally been
fine in any long-term relationship, but under these circumstances seemed so
telling.

Had we drifted apart? Were we beginning to lose the spark?

She would not further entertain that possibility. In her memories Ben had
been the steadfast, loyal boyfriend, and they were in love.

A tear fell down her cheek as she collapsed on the old leather couch. Her
eyes roamed around the room in a haze until they landed on a wooden picture
frame sitting on the mantle. Inside was a black and white picture of Ren, her
cheek pressed against a grinning Ben, his eyes wrinkling at the corners.

She sat frozen on the couch for a moment, unable to tear her eyes away
from the photograph as reality came crashing over her. Ben was gone. She would
never see that smile again, never kiss that cleft on his chin or tease him
about his ears again. Photographs are all she had left of the man who once told
her that if he ever competed in the Olympics, he would win the gold because he
would be hauling ass down that hill to get back to her.

A sob erupted from her throat. She ran from the room, picked up her bag
and slammed the front door shut. There was no way she could bear to sleep there
tonight.

Eric huffed as he ran the next morning, his breath coming out in white
wisps in the cold mountain air. It felt good to be running again, to feel that
muscle reassuringly pounding away in his chest without worrying he would keel
over and die without warning.

The surgery had been crucial to his health according to his doctors, but
it had definitely put him completely out of commission for the better part of a
month. It was only now, three months later, that he was finally able to run
like he used to, even though the thin air up in the mountains was doing a
number on him.

As his throat began to burn, he tried to occupy his mind and think
through the pain. He focused on the girl on the plane, Ren, and how much he had
enjoyed talking to her. He had met many people in his twenty-eight years of
existence, so he knew that you didn’t come across someone like her every day.
It was as if he had known her forever, as if conversing with each other was the
most natural thing they could do. If he believed in soul mates, he might have
thought she was it.

Despite himself, he laughed at the thought. The very idea that a woman
that he’d chatted with for a few
hours
tops—who
was not even his type—being his soul mate was preposterous. He felt
insane for even thinking it.

Still, after they had deplaned, as he’d waited for his luggage to come
around the conveyor belt, he’d looked for her, regretting not asking for her
number.

As he was making his way back up to the Vintage Hotel, he saw a
familiar-looking woman exit the building. Eric blinked a few times, wondering
if the thin air was making him hallucinate, but the image of her did not
dissolve—actually remained quite solid—as she walked across the
parking lot towards a small hatchback car.

He stopped a few yards away, squinting to get a clearer view. This woman
had her hair up in a loopy ponytail and was wearing yoga pants and a black
shirt. And
damn
did she have a nice figure.

“Eric?” In the few seconds he had spent ogling her body, she had turned
to him—yes, definitely Ren—and began to advance.

“You definitely don’t need to lose ten pounds,” were the first words out
of his mouth.

She smiled, looking as if she had finally had a good night’s sleep. The
puffy, bloodshot eyes were gone and he saw, for the first time, just how pretty
she was, even without a trace of makeup.

He felt dazed as he stared at her, wondering if he was dizzy from lack of
oxygen or from the close proximity to his soul mate. He snickered at his own
schmaltziness.

“What’s so funny?” Ren asked, looking him up and down. “And what the hell
are
you
doing here?”

“I was going to ask you the same thing.”

“I’m staying here.”

“No kidding? Same here.” He bent down and rested his hands on his knees,
acting as though he was still trying to catch his breath when he was actually
surreptitiously sneaking glances at her nicely formed chest. He straightened
and grinned. “I get it now!”