Page 15 of Heartless (Scathing Hearts #1)

Chapter Thirteen—Shepherd’s pie

Sienna

I woke up disoriented. After a quick scan of the unfamiliar room, I checked the digital clock on the nightstand.

It was eleven past eight. No wonder I was hungry.

Guided by the small led lights along the base of the wall, I headed toward the kitchen arched entrance.

Like most rooms in the house, it had a wall-to-wall window.

I opened the fridge, a mammoth-sized silver-doored appliance.

Jesus, there was enough food in there to last through a zombie apocalypse.

The kitchen island was a large oval slab made of grey stone in the middle of the airy room.

The six chrome stools contrasted nicely with a chess board-patterned black and white tiles.

There was a rectangle dining table seating eight by the bay window, leading to another terrace.

Beside the kitchen, the huge pantry was niched into the wall, and as big as the bedroom that had been assigned to me.

The cupboards’ doors were painted in a dark grey, and the lighting over the island was modern.

Even though the space was intimidatingly wide, it felt cozy.

I slid the dish in the oven. On the wide counter beside the sink, I spotted two large trays with handles stacked on top of each other. After opening all the cupboards, I roll on my toes to retrieve a plate—the kitchen had been made for tall people. The glasses were within my reach.

While the aroma of the Shepherd’s Pie wafted through the kitchen, I ambled to the window and lost myself in the peaceful view.

“Everything all right?”

Jerking violently, I spun toward Jake and gawked at him while clutching my chest. His jaw was clenched, and he was scowling.

My eyes. He hated my eyes. While my heart hurtled against my ribs, I lowered them to the top of his chest.

“I asked you a question. Are you all right?”

He’d ... shattered my heart in so many pieces, I’d never be the same again, and he was asking if I was ‘all right?’

When his body moved toward me, I stepped back. “I’m fine, thank you. I’m just waiting for the Shepherd’s Pie to warm up. Camila said to leave it in the oven for twenty-five minutes.”

Without another word, he left the kitchen. I didn’t see him again for the next two days.

****

End of day four. The night was slowly trickling into day five.

Earlier today, I’d tried to write. After retrieving a brand-new notebook, I’d grabbed my favorite pen and sat in the library.

I liked jolting my ideas by hand, and I’d read somewhere that the kinesthetic exercise of writing activated the same neurons paths that crawling did to a baby.

Or something like that. But as soon as I’d settled, my mind had gone blank.

Empty. To wake it up, I’d written ‘Nigel’. Nothing had come out.

To nudge my creative juices, I’d played what one of my writing courses had called the dark mirror game. Pick two names. For every character, write an adjective and pair it with the response of the second character.

I’d written ‘Jake’, and on the next line, I’d traced my name.

On the Jake line, I’d scribbled ‘cruel’. I’d matched it with ‘gullible’ on mine.

Manipulative. Idiot.

Callous. Stupid.

Handsome. Plain-ish.

Disgusted...

My pen had hovered inches above the page. I’d folded the notepad closed and picked up a book.

Now, hours later, I couldn’t sleep. The anxiety-ridden nightmares had stopped, and my easy relationship with Camila was veering toward something akin to a friendship of sorts. The rare times I’d crossed paths with Jake, he’d greeted me with a ‘Sienna’ to which I’d responded in kind to his chest.

The quietness here was profound, but my mind hadn’t accustomed to this tranquility.

With my shoulder against the wall adjacent to the window of my bedroom, I gazed at the darkened woods under the moonlight and let the majesty of Mother Nature soothe me.

A loud knock blasted in. I jumped and whirled toward the door. I held my breath while my heart crashed against my chest. Maybe the noise had come from outside. At the second knock, and before I could order my feet to move, the door opened slowly.

I lunged to switch on my bedside lamp and gasped as Jake walked in.

In my alarm, I forgot how repelled he was with my eyes, and stared at him. He was dressed all in black. Long-sleeved t-shirt, jeans, and boots.

He was also scowling.

I choked on air. My heartbeat, already fast, sped to full throttle. “Did Nigel—?”

“Why aren’t you sleeping?”

My shaky voice pitched higher. “Just tell me what’s wrong. P-please. I—"

The next second, I was plastered against him with his big arms tight around me.

Oh no. He was going to...

His hold shifted, and his hand cupped the back of my head to push my face into his chest. “Calm now, kitten.”

I stayed completely still and curled my fingers into fists. What kind of game was he playing, now?

In a matter of days, I’d gone from a dull as fuck girl who gave shitty blowjobs to ‘kitten’? Seriously? Kitten? Inhaling the scent of the manipulative liar I’d been falling in love with, my heart cracked, and to my dismay, tears burned my eyes.

He slanted back. “Get dressed.”

“W-where are we going?”

He exited my room. Copying his outfit, I pulled on jeans, a black sweater, and shoe-boots I covered with a knee-length black summer coat. Jake was waiting near the double door.

He opened his stretched-out hand toward me. “Let’s go.”

I clutched the lapels of my jacket. Fifteen minutes into the drive, I was about to ask him again where we were speeding through the night to when his deep voice filled the cabin of his truck.

“Do you always sleep in old-fashioned night gown?”

The question made me stammer. “I-I c-collect them.”

“How many do you have?”

This conversation was strange.

“A little more than forty.” I actually had fifty-two.

When he said nothing, I winced and shut up. Maybe he’d been right, and I was boring. But he did ask.

“Look good on you.”

What was happening?

I curled in my seat during the long drive with my head turned toward the night.

When the car veered to a stop, I peered through the window.

The place felt familiar, but I couldn’t be sure.

I unbuckled my seatbelt, and seconds later, Jake opened my door.

Once I was onto the gravelly ground, he opened the back door and reached for something.

When he straightened back up, he held a large bouquet of lilies. Mom’s favorite flowers.

He snatched my hand. “Let’s go. We only have a few minutes.”

My God. He’d brought me to Mom’s grave. I trotted behind him while tears wetted my cheeks. As we slowed to a stop, he handed me the flowers. “Go to your mother.”

Clutching the thick bunch of stems, I rushed to Mom’s tombstone.

I knelt on the ground and arranged the flowers in the stone vase. “Hi, Mom. I haven’t been writing, but I’m okay.”

It wasn’t really a lie. I would be okay. At the sound of footsteps behind me, I touched the cool stone. “Happy Us Day. I love you.”

I was barely up that Jake caught my hand again, and we hurried back to the truck.

****

Jake

“Thank you, Jake,” Sienna said from the passenger seat.

I hadn’t expected to find her awake, wearing that long, white gown. With her hair curling down her back, she’d been the picture of a lost princess from another era.

“Cam worries about you.”

She didn’t reply.

“Tell me about your mother.”

Her chin dipped to her clasped fingers in her lap. “It’s always been the two of us. Not against the world, but in our own world.”

“What did she tell you about Morrison?”

She cleared her throat and turned her face toward the window. “Nothing. Our lives were not defined by him.”

Rain pounded on the car. “You never asked about him as a kid?”

After a pause, she said quietly, “There are no secrets in my past that would give you ammunition against him.”

The rest of the drive went on in silence.

****

I locked the front door behind us, and she turned to me but kept her head down.

“Good night. And thank you again.”

While she quickly paced toward her quarters, I went to my office, poured a bourbon, and turned on the surveillance monitor. She was in her living room and had taken off her jacket.

She then disappeared into her bedroom. I was about to switch off the screen when she reappeared in her long nightgown. It draped in a train behind her heels and flowed around her, only hinting at her curves underneath.

Her cell in the drawer of my desk pinged.

Most of her social media was about writers, writing groups, and quotes.

The motherfucker had sent dozens of messages, asking her to call or text.

He was begging. I watched her glide to the small library, pick up a book, and lie down on her side on the small couch with her head on a cushion.

The bourbon slid down my throat, and I switched off the computer.

Collateral damage was part of every war.

****

A few days later, on my way to work, I stopped in the hallway near the kitchen to listen to Sienna’s alto voice.

There was sorrow in her tone. “I do, but she was in a lot of pain at the end, so I’m glad she’s finally at peace.”

Cam’s voice was quiet. “I’m sorry, Sienna.”

“I knew she was holding on for me because she didn’t want me to be alone. But I loved her just as much, so every day, I’d hug her and tell her all the ways I would be fine.” She cleared her throat. “And then, one morning... she was gone.”

“Sia, that’s so sad and so beautiful,” Cam said. “Come here, sweet girl.”

And I didn’t need to look to know they were hugging.

I headed toward the front door.

****

A couple of days later, I entered the kitchen a little after three. She was there, barefoot with her ass tilted back and the top half of her body in the fridge. A book laid open faced down on the island beside a tray on which she’d set a bowl of blueberries and a bag of chips.

I stepped farther into the room. “Hey, Sienna—”