Page 28 of Estranged Heart

Folding his arms, Elijah glances around, and when I look back, the woman from before is gone. My stuff sits all alone and I have no desire to go back for it, not when my heart tells me remaining here is the better option.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

Suddenly I have the need to see if our hearts beat the same. Kicking off his shoes, he perches himself on the edge of the dock and dips his feet in the water. For the first time, I notice the tattoos on his legs. They’re mostly black and shaded, some colorful birds and flowers resting between them.

He doesn’t say anything, resting back on his hands and smiling down at me, the burn scars on his arms visible beneath his short-sleeved shirt. More marred skin covers one side of his neck and other random places on his body. I remember reading about the boat explosion in an online article. Not a lot of detail was released, only that his husband’s body was missing. Nothing said about what caused the boat to explode or the state Elijah was in when found.

I can’t imagine how awful the accident must have been and to be told your husband didn’t make it. He appears to be holding himself well on the outside, but if I look at him for too long I can tell he’s breaking on the inside. His pain is nearly suffocatingwhen I get lost in his eyes. I only want to reach out to him more, and maybe if I take him in my arms we could both breathe better.

My heart speeds in my chest at the way the light hits his eyes and leaves a gold ring around his hair like a halo.

“So are you?” Dropping back into the water, I wave my arms, floating on my back.

“Am I what?” He tilts his head, kicking his legs.

“Stalking me.”

Laughing, he breathes out a long sigh. “If me going to all the places I usually go to classifies as stalking you, then sure.”

“You always come here?”

He nods curtly, going quiet again.

Looking down at my hands slowing in the water, I struggle to move my legs. Am I stalking him? If I am, it’s not on purpose. Did I really come here because I had a sudden urge to swim, or am I here for another reason?

“What about you?” He finally speaks again.

“I . . . I only started coming here recently. I’ve driven past here before but never thought to get out of the car until now. I couldn’t really swim before. I was too sick.”

“Was?” He eyes me curiously, leaning forward.

“Yeah. I suffered from a heart condition before and recently had a heart transplant. I was on a list for years.”

“Yeah, Landon told me you had a bad heart. He said it was the reason Stacey called out a lot. I was told you had a lot of close calls. It’s good to hear you’re doing better.”

Am I? Not in all ways at least. “Yeah. It’s nice to finally do things I couldn’t before. I mean, I have to take it slow but it’s a start.”

“Should you be swimming out here all alone?”

“I’m not alone.”

He laughs again. “You were before.”

I swim back to the dock, resting my hands next to him, my arm almost touching his leg. “Nah, there was a lady there before you came.”

Shaking his head, he huffs out a breath. “You take a lot of chances, don’t you?”

“Not usually. I guess gaining more freedom has made me a little greedy.”

“How long have you been out here? You’re already turning into a withered grape.”

My throat goes dry. “You mean a prune?”

“Same difference.”

Studying his fully clothed body and how he’s careful not to get more than his feet wet, I ask, “Do you ever get in the water?”

“Huh?”