Page 4 of Healed Hearts (Mended Hearts #2)

Chapter Three

Holden

M y hands are trembling as I pull open the door of Julian’s house and walk into the cool night. What in the actual fuck was that? Did I really fall asleep on his chest like some… I don’t even know how to finish that. The worst part of it all, is that I’m freaking the fuck out, and not at all in the way I should be. I fell asleep in a stranger’s bed, on his body, with his fingers trailing up and down my back, and all I can think about is his softly spoken, “Is this okay?”

People like that don’t actually exist, right?

I climb into my car, turn it on, and back out of the driveway. The distance I’m putting between us isn’t doing a single thing to get his words out of my head. What can I do to make you more comfortable? Not only did he ask, but then he did what I requested. He didn’t cross any boundaries I asked him not to. He didn’t even come close to them, actually. Somehow, I instinctively knew when he was rubbing my back that he wouldn’t take it further without asking.

A manic laugh bubbles in my chest. Oh God. I’ve got to get it together. But who does that? Really? Who pauses at every point and checks in? Him, apparently, and good God, that was the best orgasm I’ve had in… God, ever, maybe? I mean, I literally couldn’t even keep my eyes open after it was over. Normally, I’m ready to run right out the door. Ready to go and go and not stop until I’m very far away.

Normally, I’m left half-traumatized and unsatisfied.

Insert another manic laugh. Thank God Roman called me. I don’t know what he would have thought if he and his fiancé, Beck, had shown up to rescue me, and I was just stretched out, sleeping in the arms of a gentle giant. They’d probably sit me down and make me talk about it. That thought makes me giggle. Not a manic one this time, thankfully. A normal one.

Honestly, it would be a little funny. Beck hated me until he didn’t, the switch flipping so quickly that it made my head spin a little. I felt like I already knew him before, because of how much Roman talked about him. But I can’t lie. When I first realized who he was, I thought he was a dick.

First, he was rude as hell to me. Then he was rude as hell to Ro. I figured Ro was looking at him through the idyllic lens of youth because no fucking way was he good enough for Roman. He proved me wrong, though. And now I live in his house. And he’s proof that I can have meaningful friendships outside of Roman. In a way, that almost means more to me than my friendship with Ro. It’s proof that I’m not broken. Ro weaseled his way in slowly, earning my trust over time. Beck bulldozed past my defenses. It was honestly hard not to trust him. He did and still does wear his heart on his sleeve. There’s not a single thing deceitful or shady about him.

When I pull in at home, Beck is waiting up for me. He’s standing on the front porch in nothing but a pair of raggedy sweats. He looks tired, and my heart gives a little pang at keeping him up. I shove it down, though, because hello, he was also keeping me up.

When I first met him—before he found Roman again, before he decided to take him back—exhaustion clung to him like a second skin. There was no joy in his eyes. Just sadness and exhaustion. Like a soul-deep tiredness that no amount of sleep can make better. I felt bad for him, truthfully. Roman always told me through the years that Beck radiated joy, but until they got back together, I saw nothing like joy from him.

I climb out of the car and head up the porch, suddenly very aware that I’m somewhat covered in dry cum. Oops. Should have taken an extra five seconds to clean up, Hold . Beck narrows his eyes at me as I get closer, and it’s obvious he’s noticed. Um, double oops?

We stand face to face in some weird standoff. So I glare at him, damn near double-dog-daring him to say something out of the way to me with my eyes.

He breaks first. Sucker. He sighs, his lips tilting up in an amused smirk. “Have fun?”

“Yeah, actually. I did. I’m sorry I kept you guys up.” His face colors, likely thinking about the original reason he was up late, and it makes me chuckle. He so rarely blushes that it’s always a real treat when he does.

“No need to be sorry. Roman was worried. He worked longer than I did today, so I finally convinced him to get some sleep, and I’d wait up for you.”

Something about the statement rubs me the wrong way. I know that I’m what some would consider traumatized by my past, but I don’t need a fucking keeper or a babysitter. I can and do take care of myself just fine, thank you very much. “You two know I don’t need a couple of daddies, right? I’m fully capable of taking care of myself.”

His face softens, and that just pisses me off more. “We do know that, yes. But we still worry. Don’t you worry about Roman?”

Well, he’s got me there. It’s still annoying, though. “Yes, Beckett. I do worry about Roman,” I say, trying to keep my voice level. “And you,” I add.

He inclines his head like his point made itself, and ugh—I guess it did. But it’ll be a cold day in hell before I admit that to him. “Can I go to bed now?”

He’s quiet for a minute, so I decide to use the opportunity to walk past him. I make it two steps before he’s grabbing my arm to stop me. “Was he nice to you?”

That question makes my skin itch, some long forgotten feeling burning through my stomach. And if he wasn’t, Beck? What would you do? Fuck up your perfect little world to protect me? I think not. I don’t say any of that, though. “Yeah, he was.” I pull my arm from his hold and walk into the house.

After I shower, I climb into bed, my body fully sated and relaxed. I’m almost asleep when I realize Beck didn’t even give me shit for calling him Beckett. I sit up, the blankets pooling around my waist. That makes me feel… strange. We always give each other shit. That’s our thing. Why didn’t he give me shit back? I lie back down, pull the blankets up around me, and scowl at the ceiling. I swear, if he starts treating me differently, I’m going to kick his ass.

I wake up to pounding on my door, and for a split second, I forget where I am. I sit up quickly, my eyes darting around, before I realize and slump against the bed.

“CT, time for work,” Beck calls through the door. I roll my eyes and fling the blankets back. He randomly started calling me CT one day and really hasn’t stopped. I have no idea what it means or why he calls me that, but I would about bet it’s nothing good—something that I’m definitely going to kick his ass for when I figure it out.

A little zip of anxiety shoots through my stomach as I climb from the bed and head to the closet to get clothes. I’m equally terrified and excited about work today. I love my job, genuinely. I feel like I was made to do what I do. I never much considered doing anything but working in the ER. It’s where I started and I enjoy it. It’s fun and fast-paced. Intense sometimes, sure, but I like that. And more than that, I’m good at it. Pediatrics will be a major change, but I get to work with Beck’s mom, Lydia, and she’s amazing .

I pull on my favorite scrubs—ones with puppies on them—and head out of the bedroom. I step into the hall bathroom and debate with myself. Should I wear eyeliner? I mean, it’s been fine in the ER, but what about peds? I didn’t even think about that before.

“Beckett!” I yell through the cracked door.

“Yeah?” he yells back.

“Eyeliner. Yes or no?”

He doesn’t answer, and for a minute, I think he’s going to ignore me. “Why are you asking me that?” he asks, his voice coming from right outside the bathroom.

“You can come in.” He does, pushing the door open further, and leans against the frame. “I’m not sure if it’s appropriate,” I say, shrugging.

“When my mom interviewed you, did you have it on?”

“Yeah, of course.”

“Do you wear it every time we go to their house?”

I nod, not sure where he’s going with this.

“Then, yes. Wear it. She knows who you are, Hold. She wouldn’t want you to be anyone else.”

His words hit me hard, and I’m not really sure why. I think whatever the fuck happened last night has me all out of sorts. Ugh, and now I’m thinking about last night again. Trying to shove those thoughts down, I nod, reaching up to grab my eyeliner off the shelf. Beck pats me on top of my head with a grin and walks away. I groan in irritation. I was an only child, but if this is what having an older brother is like, I’ll pass.

After applying my liner and a little clear lip gloss—you know, for good luck or whatever—I head into the kitchen. Roman’s made breakfast, but honestly, I’m too nervous to eat. I feel a bit like a brand new baby nurse all over again, not really knowing my ass from a hole in the ground.

I pick at my food, pushing it around on my plate while I wait for Ro and Beck to finish eating. They’re talking about the center and how excited Roman is about a fundraiser he has coming up, but I’m mostly ignoring them while trying not to think about Julian or my upcoming shift. To be honest, I’m trying to keep all thoughts from my head, since those are the two things that seem to be swirling around in the brain today.

“Holden?” Roman’s voice cuts through my thoughts, making me jolt.

“Yeah?” He’s looking at me like he’s been trying to get my attention for a while. Ugh. I hate when he’s worried about me.

“I asked if you had a good night,” he says, lifting a bite of eggs to his mouth.

Of course he would wanna talk about the one thing I want to forget. I raise an eyebrow at him. “Didn’t you and Beck already discuss this? Like a couple of proud papas?” Ro looks a little taken aback, and it makes me feel like shit. I hate being shitty with him. I hate that I feel so strange inside. I sigh. “Yeah, I had a good night.”

He studies me for a second, but then smiles. “I’m glad. Are you excited about your first day in peds?”

Why does he keep asking me about all the things I don’t want to think about? Jesus Christ. “Yep, I am,” I mumble, looking down at my plate. The silence in the room is tense, and I hate it. I don’t know what my problem is, but I need to get over it. This is not at all fair to Ro. Or even Beck, for that matter.

“Well,” Beck says, tapping his hands on his thighs. “You ready to go?”

“Yep. Whenever you are.”

We all stand, and Roman grabs our plates to take them to the sink. Beck and I take off to the living room. I’m pulling my shoes on right as Roman comes into the room. Beck meets him halfway, murmuring something quietly to him that makes him smile. Beck leans in and the two of them kiss. I’ve seen them kiss hundreds of times at this point, but for some reason, I can’t drag my eyes away. It makes me feel a little awkward to watch them. There’s just something about the way Roman has Beck’s scrubs caught in his fist, the way Beck is cradling Roman’s face, the easy movement of their lips together that… makes me feel funny inside. There’s a weird ache in my chest that I don’t understand, like an itch I can’t quite scratch, and I don’t really know how to even if I could. It’s unsettling.

I clear my throat, turning my attention away from them to finish putting on my shoes. It’s not that I’m jealous of Roman and Beck, right? Why would I be? I’m happy for them. Hell, I helped Beck with his proposal. But if I’m not jealous of them, why do I feel that way? What else could it possibly be?

Julian’s face pops unbidden into my mind, and I have to fight down an irritated groan. Why am I still thinking about him? God, it was just a quick fuck. Nothing more. But if that’s the case, why can’t I stop thinking about the way he looked at me, how safe I felt with him, how fucking amazing it all was? Hell, I even thought about kissing him, and I never do that. That weird little pang hits my chest again, and I bring a fist up to massage it. Maybe I’m coming down with something. It would certainly explain my mood.

“Hold, are you ready?” Beck asks.

I nod and tell Ro goodbye, before standing and following Beck out the door.

“Are you enjoying your first day?”

I turn, and Lydia is standing behind me smiling at me. “I so am,” I say, returning her smile. She pulls me into a hug and I melt into her. God, there’s just something about a good mom hug. Until Lydia, I forgot what they were like.

I pull away after a couple of seconds. “It’s a different world, huh?” she asks.

I nod. “It is, but I’m really enjoying it so far. Thank you for giving me a chance.”

She laughs. “No need to thank me, Holden. I’m happy to have you here. I was genuinely excited when you told me you wanted to make the switch. You have the perfect personality to work with kids.”

Her words bring a smile to my face. Mom hugs are amazing. But mom praise? That’s something else entirely. “Thank you,” I whisper, worried that if I say it any louder, I’ll cry.

She pats my cheek in a total mom move that does absolutely nothing to chill my wayward emotions. “Okay, I’m going to get back to work, sweetie. But you let me know if you need anything.”

“I will,” I say, a smile forming on my lips as she walks away.

When my next patient comes in, I feel ready to take on the world. I walk into the room with a smile.

“Hello,” I say, crouching down in front of my mini patient. “I’m Holden. What’s your name?”

“I’m Livvy,” she says softly. The expression on her tear-stained face is a little shy, and her blonde pigtails a little messy.

“Wow. That’s such a pretty name! I love it. What brings you to see me today?” I ask.

“A fall off the monkey bars,” her mom chimes in. Livvy holds her arm up, showing me the bruise. I wouldn’t be surprised if she has a fracture.

“Oh, no! I bet you were super brave, though,” I say.

She gives me a shy smile. “I only cried a little,” she says, then, “I really like your eyeliner.”

“Thank you so much!” I tell her with a wink.

Her eyes light up, some of the shyness disappearing from her expression. “You’re welcome.”

“Do you wanna go for a ride so we can take some pictures of your arm?”

“A ride?” she asks, her head cocking to the side.

“Yes, ma’am. Let me go grab a special seat for you and we’ll go. Sound good?” She nods, a slight smile on her lips. “Perfect,” I start, turning my attention to her mom. “We’ll get some images and go from there.”

“Thank you,” she says.

I head out of the room with a smile on my face, grabbing a wheelchair to take her down to imaging. I was genuinely worried about this for nothing. Sure, it’s tiny humans, and that’s different from what I’m used to dealing with, but I’m good at my job. Besides, Lydia wouldn’t have hired me if she didn’t believe in me. I head into the exam room with the wheelchair and a new pep in my step.