Sweet Hearts (The Lindstroms Book 3) Page 5

  He shifted beside her, and the skin on her palm tingled where she’d been zapped by his handshake earlier. She felt almost uncomfortably aware of him beside her, like every nerve ending in her body was on high alert, waiting for…for what?

  She sighed in a huff, annoyed with the train of her thoughts.

  Waiting for nothing, Kat. You’re being ridiculous. You’re a little distracted by him, and it’s been a while since someone distracted you, and let’s face it, it feels nicer than being worried or scared. But, it doesn’t mean anything, so don’t give it meaning. Get him out of your head. He’s handsome and that’s—

  “What?” Erik was looking at her curiously.

  “What what?” Her eyes flew open in a panic. Oh, good Lord, did I just say all of that aloud?

  He furrowed his brows and gave her a lopsided grin before looking back at the road. “You sighed.”

  “Oh.” She relaxed. “Yeah. I don’t know. It’s weird. I didn’t wake up feeling bad.” She paused. “Do you know the feeling…like, um, have you ever lost someone you loved? And when you wake up, you get a moment, maybe, a split-second, when you don’t remember? Just for that second as you’re waking up, you feel light and hopeful, and if you had good dreams, you might even feel”—she shrugged and shook her head, a slight smile on her face—“content. And then, and then it comes crashing over you all over again and you remember the worry or the pain or the sadness. All that heaviness just...descends.”

  Erik swallowed, remembering the days after his mother had passed away. He nodded once, staring out the windshield.

  “That’s how I’ve been waking up. For months. You know, since the wedding and all. That momentary lapse into hopefulness before feeling frightened and defensive, that heavy feeling returning almost immediately, every morning: waiting to see how Wade would embarrass me or bother me.”

  “But not just now?” he asked. “You didn’t feel it?”

  “No, I didn’t. I don’t feel scared or worried. It feels so nice not to worry.” She looked up at him and smiled.

  The respite from sorrow, from fear and paranoia, felt wonderful. She looked at Erik’s handsome profile. She could see the bristle of an incoming beard along his jawline, the tiny blond hairs sparkling in the afternoon sunlight. A beautiful jawline covered by little golden prickles. Are you prickly, Erik Lindstrom?

  “Maybe I didn’t realize how much the last few weeks were getting to me,” she said, forcing herself to look away from him.

  “I’m sure it was a rough time.” He glanced at her. “Do you want to talk about it a little more? About Wade?”

  And just like that, the warm, contented feeling started ebbing away, from just the sound of his name. Wade. Like a mottled grey blanket had been thrown over the sun.

  She grimaced lightly and shrugged. “We were together a long time. I knew he had a problem. I knew it way before my wedding day, you know? It just took that day for me to face it. I had to let him go. But, it still broke my heart a little bit.”

  “I’ve never been…I mean, I’ve never had my heart broken. By a girl.”

  “You’re lucky. It’s no picnic.”

  “He’s the one with the problem.”

  They were similar words to the ones he’d said at her apartment, but this time they didn’t comfort her. “You don’t even know me, Erik. Maybe it was partially my fault. Maybe I enabled him. Maybe I should have tried harder to get him help or…”

  “Hey.” Erik’s voice was gentle. “He’s a grown-ass man. If he needed help, he should have gotten some. And anyway, the drinking aside…getting wasted on his wedding day? Stalking you? Breaking bottles and making threats? He’s not just a jerk; he’s dangerous. You were right to walk away.”

  “I wish it felt that cut-and-dried.”

  “Doesn’t it?”

  “We were together for five years.” Her voice was soft, wistful.

  Meeting Wade a few weeks after her seventeenth birthday had been a rush. He was the new kid in town, tall and handsome with twinkling eyes and a confidence that set him apart from the other high school guys. He quickly became the most popular boy in school. Football star, Homecoming king. How bewildering that he only had eyes for shy, studious Katrin Svenson.

  At first, no one understood; she’d always been Bookworm Kat to her classmates—classmates who hadn’t noticed her physical transformation that summer.

  Her chest had filled out, her waist had tightened, and her blonde hair flowed down her back in a golden ripple. Having no preconception of her personality, Wade had pursued the pretty senior doggedly until she agreed to go to homecoming with him, until she’d even agreed to be his girlfriend. She’d been carried away by so much attention from the handsome, popular newcomer.

  “I was about to marry him,” she continued. “I didn’t want it to end like that. I hate to see what he’s become.”

  “You loved him? I guess you loved him.”

  “I was with him for a long time. High school sweethearts. It’s hard to know when I stopped loving him. I knew for sure the day I couldn’t be with him anymore. But, the day I stopped loving him? I don’t know. Maybe there’s a part of me that still loves Wade, that’ll always love Wade, even though we can’t be together.”

  It had been easy to love cool, confident, fun, high school Wade. It was easy to believe that he loved her back. Her mind fast-forwarded to the pitiful man raging on her doorstep a few nights ago, and she sighed. It hurt her heart to see the changes in him. It hurt her heart that the same man who held her after her father died had changed into the monster on her doorstep screaming obscenities in the middle of the night.

  She trembled, drawing her legs up and resting her feet on the seat. Would she be safe? Would she ever be safe? This morning she’d woken up at her brother’s house and tomorrow she would wake up in a new town, far, far away from home. She wrapped her arms around her knees, hugging her body into a little ball, tuning her ears back into Erik’s words.

  “…sure you’ll be okay. The worst of it’s behind you. You just have to find your footing again.”

  “What if he finds me? Or what if he makes trouble for my mom? Or Kris?”

  “Hey. No, don’t worry about that. Kristian has everything under control. He’s ex-military. He’s big and he’s smart. Come on. Don’t worry about them.”

  “What about me?” she whimpered, her fears circling her like wolves.

  “We’re getting you far away from him. He’s not going to find you. And I’m not going to let anything happen to you. We’re going to check out this new job, make sure everything looks okay, and I’m going to come check on you…every Sunday if you want me to. And you’re going to let me know if you’re scared or if something doesn’t feel right…or if you need me. For anything. That’s the plan, okay?”

  She sniffled, and her eyes filled with tears, out of self-pity, but also from his kindness. He didn’t know her at all, but he was offering his protection to her. It made her feel a little better. No, a lot better.

  “Thanks, Erik.”

  “Yeah, of course. You think I want to face Ing and your brother if something happens to you? Think again! You’re not alone, okay? You’re safe now.”

  “Safe,” she whispered. “O-okay.”

  She nodded, trying to smile for him. Then turning away, she rolled down her window, and the car was suddenly full of clean, fresh mountain air. She took a deep breath, filling her lungs, holding herself tightly, trying to convince herself that he was right and the day would come when she would finally feel safe again.

  ***

  Her voice had cracked just before she turned away to open the window, and it bothered him to see her upset.

  Great job making her feel better, Erik. Change the subject, distract her and do not mention the fiancé again. Make it better. Make some conversation. Say something. Say anything.

  “So. Umm…Kat, um, what’s it like having Ingrid for a sister-in-law?”

  Katrin turned away from the window and glanced
at him. “Probably not so different from having her as an extra sister. I mean, assuming that’s how you think of her…Minste.”

  He nodded beside her, deciding to ignore her use of his hated nickname. “Oh, absolutely. She and Jenny were two peas in a pod growing up. Toughest thing Jen ever went through was losing our mamma and Ing within a few months of each other. Luckily, Ing came back.”

  Wow, Erik. Way to go. Great job steering the conversation into happier waters. What the hell is the matter with you?

  “I knew your mom had passed away,” she answered smoothly, alleviating his worries. “Someone told me at Sam and Jenny’s wedding. How long ago?”

  “Six years.”

  She unclasped her knees and crossed them, shifting her body toward him to give him her attention. “I’m sorry. That’s really hard. I lost my dad three years ago. I was in nursing college, and my mother called to say that he’d been in a car accident. Just like that. Gone. I was nineteen.” She shared this softly, but without tears. “I miss him. There were times it was almost unbearable, you know? But, mostly the years go by and you find you can think about them and talk about them without those crushing, drowning feelings taking over every morning. Now, I remember the good times. I remember his smile.”

  Erik was surprised. He didn’t realize that Kristian and Katrin’s father had passed away. He didn’t remember meeting their father at Jenny’s wedding, but there were so many new faces, it hadn’t really occurred to him. He thought of Katrin on her wedding day, already emotional that her father wasn’t there to walk her down the aisle, only to be abandoned by the second-most important man in her life: her fiancé. Scumbag. He narrowed his eyes, shaking his head over the unfairness of it.

  Her hand on his arm jerked him back to the present. “Hey. Are you okay?”

  “Yeah. Yeah,” he blustered, looking down at her small, white, delicate fingers that looked cold, but were surprisingly warm on his skin. He was instantly distracted and had to shuffle through his thoughts to remember their chain of conversation. “I’m fine. I’m just—I’m sorry about it. Your dad.” And your creepy, stalker, alcoholic ex-fiancé.

  “And your mom. For both of us.” She took her hand away and uncapped the water she was holding between her legs, taking another sip.

  “It was the worst for Jenny. Youngest. Only girl.”

  “It probably just seemed that way. I’m sure it was just as hard for you.”

  He glanced out his window to the left, away from her, pushing away thoughts of his mother’s broken-down body. He had helped Jenny care for her as she deteriorated steadily, slipping away a little more hour by hour before his eyes. He could still hear the moans whenever she had to be moved or touched, her restless sleep when she cried out for Erik’s father. Picking her up so that Jenny could change the sheets and feeling less and less of her in his arms. His Pappa, who couldn’t bear it, who couldn’t watch, who spent more and more time in the park as his wife lay dying, abandoning her to—

  Erik shuddered, shutting down his memories and shifting his focus back to Jenny instead. “It was a really bad time. It changed her. I’m pretty sure she would have just ended up alone in Gardiner if it wasn’t for Sam. He woke her up. He rescued her.”

  He heard Ingrid’s words in his head: “You’re saving her life today.” Katrin. Like Sam rescued Jenny? He chased the uncomfortable thought out of his mind, and squirmed in his seat, wishing he could just turn on the radio and they could quit talking. This conversation was too deep, too personal, too intense, dredging up memories he’d just as soon forget, making him feel things he didn’t want to feel.

  “Jenny and Sam…so romantic,” Katrin sighed, a wistfulness in her voice that he recognized and that instinctively repelled him. “Are you a romantic, Erik?”

  “No way!” he blurted out, lowering his window. The cool breeze felt like heaven on his suddenly hot face.

  She turned sharply to look at him. “I didn’t ask if you’re a drug smuggler or a gangster! Would it be so terrible to be a romantic?”

  His shoulders felt tense and his hands tightened on the wheel. “I guess that’s okay for some guys, but not me. I’m not one. Romantic. I’m not. I don’t really even, you know, do commitment.” He scoffed, staring ahead. “All that silly, sappy flowers and poetry and Valentine’s Day and sh-sharing feelings and all that crap. That’s just not me. Not who I am. No picket fences.” His words came out in a nervous rush and he felt like an idiot.

  “No picket fences?”

  “You know. Little house. White picket fence. Coming home to the ball and chain. Trapped.”

  “Huh! Wow!”

  “I don’t need that. I don’t want to be tied down.”

  “I see!” She crossed her arms over her chest, staring out the window. She made a high-pitched noise like “whew” and sounded annoyed.

  “Am I upsetting you?”

  “Upsetting me? Erik, I don’t even know you. I met you, like, a minute ago. I mean… do I think you might have some commitment issues? Uh, yeah. But, that’s none of my business. You’re entitled to think what you want to think. I don’t have a right to judge you.”

  “Doesn’t sound like you much like the way I think.”

  “Does that matter?”

  He didn’t know how to answer her question. He felt like the words “Not really” should have flown off his tongue without thinking, but they didn’t. And he tried to say them, but couldn’t. And it didn’t make sense.

  Katrin turned to face him with a slight smile, her dimple little, tentative. She spoke softly. “You know, it’s okay to be scared. Putting yourself out there is scary.”

  Yeah, look what happened to you, for God’s sake!

  “I’m not scared of anything.” He answered too quickly and he knew it.

  “No?”

  He glanced at her, and spoke deliberately, as if to a child. “I’m in law enforcement, Katrin.”

  She nodded, doing that annoying half-smile thing girls did when they knew they had you in an argument. He’d seen Jenny and Ingrid do it his whole life. He knew what was coming.

  “Mmm. Seems to me white picket fences scare you, Erik.”

  “Just don’t want one to have and to hold.”

  She surprised him by chuckling at that comment, blessedly breaking the tension between them. He sighed with relief, looking aside at her, feeling grateful, feeling confused, feeling—

  “Okay. Listen.” She turned to him and her tone was candid with a peppering of playful. “We don’t know each other very well, but I’m not much into subterfuge, so just in case this is you, being direct with me? Let’s make this easy and set some ground rules, because we’re going to see each other from time to time, right? And we’re both single, and maybe you’re trying to tell me something here…so, I’m just going to put this out there: I get it. No picket fences for you.” She paused and looked over at him, aqua eyes pulling no punches. “Which is perfect, as far as I’m concerned, because I’ve had sort of a tough year so far, and you know what I could really use, Erik? A friend. So how does that sound?”

  “Good to me.” Sort of.

  “Phew. Good. Friends?”

  “Friends.” He said it, but it bothered him, even though it was for the best with Ingrid’s warning still fresh in his head.

  “Great. Then that’s settled.”

  She smiled at him then shifted her body to look out the window.

  Erik exhaled, feeling like he’d just lifted weights for an hour, exhausted by the range of emotional topics they’d just covered. He had dated that girl at UGF for months, and she had no idea his mother had died, or anything else deep and personal about his life. They had confined their conversations to small talk about college, the current Vikings season and a host of other safe, mundane topics.

  Why had he allowed his conversation with Katrin to get so personal so fast? It unnerved him. He considered this for a moment and decided that it was the family connection that must have made such intimate subjects feel like
fair game. The family connection. They were just family friends.

  But, looking out the window at the beauty of Flathead, he suddenly heard her sleepy voice in his head asking Am I your sweetheart? in Swedish. He thought of the graceful curve of her extended neck with that pounding pulse point and the sound of her giggle when he told her not to call him Minste. Those two marvelous dimples that he ached to kiss...

  He felt a sudden burst of rebellion against calling Katrin Svenson a “family friend,” and an unexpected pang of regret to be closing the door on anything more than friendship with her, despite Ingrid’s clear request that he leave Katrin alone. I barely know her, but I know this: She doesn’t feel like a friend, and she sure as heck doesn’t feel like family.

  He had a sudden wild instinct to turn to her and tell her he might be wrong, that he wasn’t sure he just wanted to be her friend, that ever since the first moment they touched hands, she felt different to him than other girls, that he felt instantly attracted to her as he couldn’t ever remember being so intensely drawn to another human being in all his life. That being friends would suck because it meant he couldn’t touch her, couldn’t kiss her, couldn’t hope to feel her body under his someday, her legs wrapped around his waist as they—

  He glanced over at her and her hand was out the window being buffeted by the wind. She wasn’t smiling, but that sweet tiny pucker in her cheek attracted his eyes like a beacon, as the cold air pushed and whooshed against her little hand. He jerked his eyes back to the road.

  Friends, Erik. Family friends, with no risk of a romantic mess that would affect more people than just you and Katrin. You’re getting exactly what you want. No girl suddenly expecting anything of you. No relationship. No commitment. Just a friend—a family friend at that, who’s had a rough time, poor thing…and that’s that.