Page 123 of Shifting Hearts

FIFTEEN

JASON

I t wasn’t so lonely anymore. Light was returning, and Morgan was finally beginning to live again, carrying the weight of what she had done but moving forward nonetheless.

Em still had questions about who Morgan really was, and one evening, Morgan began telling her a story, a story about Huck and Betty. Em’s brow furrowed in confusion, unable to follow the tale at first.

Now it makes sense. What Em had asked. I was Huck and she was Betty.

This was our story. How Morgan and I had met.

Hearing her recount it brought a pang of nostalgia, a bittersweet ache for a life I’d missed.

I could see the same tug at Morgan’s heart as she reached the end of that first part of our story.

Em, sensing the unspoken pain, didn’t press her to continue.

Soon, the conversation shifted to the community project.

Paul wanted to make a difference again, and Em was eager to help.

She reached out to Irene without my knowledge, and Richard wired enough money for them to purchase land.

One cabin rose after another, laughter filling the air as they built, joked, and pranked each other mercilessly.

Even I wanted to join in, to play alongside Em and Morgan, but I stayed in the shadows.

On nights they weren’t working, they volunteered at the soup kitchen.

Watching Morgan, I saw her in her element.

She was a natural, very nurturing and radiant.

One evening, I was nudged along in her direction, irritated, until I saw her chasing a little boy, tickling him, laughing freely.

I couldn’t help but laugh myself. She would’ve been a remarkable mother.

My own children had never been so lucky.

The project moved forward, and when the first phase was complete, Irene and Richard brought Mel and me to the opening.

I didn’t understand at the time why Emily, Paul, or Morgan weren’t there.

Irene had hoped it might give me purpose again.

I hadn’t seen it for what it truly was, and I felt like an idiot.

Later, as they returned to the soup kitchen, Morgan nudged Paul.

“This was your idea, Paul. Go tell Simon.”

“Natasha?”

“You made it happen.”

“No, Em did, with that generous donation. Where did you even get it?”

“It’s not what you know, Paul, it’s who you know,” Em said.

Paul looked at Morgan and Em. “You sure?”

“Yes,” she laughed. “Go.”

I watched as Paul pulled Simon aside to share the news: a safe haven for the homeless, built from the ground up by them. Simon’s eyes welled with tears, and he thanked Paul repeatedly, insisting on seeing the place before spreading the word. They handed him the keys, and he shook his head in awe.

“Why… why did you do this?”

“Everyone needs help in life sometimes,” Paul said simply.

“You kids are amazing,” Simon whispered. Morgan chuckled, glancing at Em, who suppressed her smile.

“There’s no furniture yet,” Morgan admitted.

“It’s more than anyone’s given us,” Simon said.

“Then it was our pleasure,” Emily replied.

Simon hugged them both tightly. Emily suggested asking for more donations, but Simon waved it off. They’d find their own. What mattered was this first step, an act of kindness that would leave a lasting mark on the lives they touched.

The next day, everyone gathered to see the community in full bloom. Opening day coincided with a fundraiser; media crews had arrived, and there was hope the event would raise enough money to fully stock each cabin with necessities.

They insisted Paul speak, and when he tried to resist, they twisted his arm, making me laugh. He finally stepped onto the porch of one cabin, standing beside Simon, while everyone cheered him on.

“Okay, okay,” Paul raised his hands, smiling. “It’s not just me who made this possible. Sure, it’s been a dream of mine for a long time?—”

“Since you were sixteen?” someone shouted.

“Yeah, something like that,” he joked, earning laughter.

“But I wouldn’t have had this dream if it weren’t for one of the best beings I’ve ever known.”

“What’s he doing?” I whispered.

“And another who gave us the money to purchase this land,” Paul continued.

“Oh crap,” Morgan interjected, “He isn’t.”

“Natasha, if it weren’t for you, if you hadn’t come into my life that night when I needed you most, I wouldn’t have known what I was capable of.”

“Don’t,” Morgan whispered.

“No,” Paul said, shaking his head, “you made me feel that anything is possible. Didn’t matter if we had the resources or not.

Your gentle touch, always helping those in need, even something as simple as planting a few seeds and making them grow—your gardens have helped so many people.

Your compassion for the less fortunate is what inspired all of this.

” He gestured to the entire community. “I might have built it, but you are the essence of this place.”

“You’re going to make me cry, and then I’ll be a bloody mess,” Morgan said, and everyone laughed, not realizing how true her words were.

“Sorry, that’s not my intention,” Paul said, his voice firm but warm.

“But you must know, you are a force of nature. And Emily, the more you spend time around Natasha, the more I realize that you are one too. The world is better because of you two. My world, everyone here’s world…

it’s all better because of you. I love you both. ”

Cheers erupted, and Emily hugged Natasha tightly, her eyes glistening.

Paul stepped forward. “Why do you say that? You know I can’t cry.”

He laughed. “Better push it away, girl.”

I watched them, my heart tightening. She was still my Morgan, still kind, still gentle, and I had been a coward, convinced that all she’d become wasn’t enough. My vision blurred as an emotion stronger than anything I’d ever felt exploded inside me.

It shouldn’t matter who she was, or what she had become. That was the love of my life standing there, and I had spent so long trying to push her away.

Oh, fuck, she heard me. She heard me begging to stop, to let me go.

I fell to my knees and cried like I had never cried before.

We were in Morgan’s room, and she was telling Em the second part of our story, the Huck and Betty story, my version this time.

Em wasn’t confused; that life hadn’t happened for her.

I watched them both and felt a pang of longing so intense it took my breath away.

It was the same way Morgan had made me fall in love with her the first time, only now, she had done it all over again.

The way she lifted people up, cared for them, nurtured Emily…

she had this instinct, this gift for making others feel whole.

Em would never let her go after this. She’d follow Morgan for eternity.

I just hoped that in all that devotion, there was still a little space for me—her father, her Safe Haven too.

“You and Paul are my home,” Em said softly, and I looked up.

“Em…”

“I’m sorry. I can’t explain it, Natasha. I feel myself with you, and I don’t have anyone telling me to stop.”

She touched her face gently, and the two of them hugged. Seeing that bond, seeing Morgan be so unguarded, reminded me of the woman I had loved so fiercely. She didn’t even know it yet, but Em was her home, the only one who would ever truly understand her.

“Please, make it stop. I’ve had enough. I’ll never leave her again, please,” I begged for days, but no one listened.

I craved Morgan, desperately. I was dying to touch her, to kiss her, to tell her how much I loved her.

Every day without it drove me closer to madness.

Not even the first time had been this cruel.

Perhaps this was punishment for thinking I could ever let her go.

Telling Em Betty’s version of the story confused her, yes, but it also brought a deeper pain. It felt as if someone had ripped my heart out while watching Morgan beg Em to stop, insisting that they were real people, that she shouldn’t have told the story.

That night, she cried again in the shower.

I crouched beside her, desperate to convey that I hadn’t meant the words I’d said when her memories returned.

That I needed to find myself again. That I would fix her, just as she had fixed me.

That we would make it. But no matter how hard I tried, she couldn’t hear me.

Grief, frustration, desire, they combined into a ticking time bomb inside me.

All I wanted was for this torment to end so I could go home to my girls and become the family we were meant to be.

I barely noticed my surroundings until I was suddenly pulled in one direction and froze: my worst nightmare unfolding.

Morgan was kissing someone else.

The sight broke me.

“No, don’t. Please,” I begged, but they continued, completely unaware of my anguish. Hatred, jealousy, obsession, they tore through me in waves.

“Morgan, stop! Please! I can’t handle this! Don’t do this!” I screamed, collapsing to my knees, cupping my head, trying to drown out their moans. Rage overtook me. I hadn’t thrown a tantrum like this in years. I screamed until my throat burned.

She finally stopped when the man asked her something. Did she hear me?

“Please, don’t,” he murmured, trying again, but she pushed him away and returned to the bar, resuming her shift. I was pulled behind her once more. That kiss had shattered me. I wanted to kill him. Hours passed before I could calm down.

We finally returned to the apartment. Em and Paul disappeared into his room while Morgan took a shower. I stayed close, aching to touch her, but every attempt met nothing—pure, agonizing torture.

Later, lying on her bed, memories of making love with her crashed over me, a cruel reminder of what I couldn’t have. She giggled, and I looked at her, sighing.

“Why are you laughing?” I asked.

“Oh, Em?” she said, chuckling again. I realized then that she and Paul were… at it. The thought alone drove me to the brink.

“You’re a peeping Tom now, Morgan,” I muttered, though she couldn’t see me. I wanted to touch her so badly my hand hovered inches from her cheek, willing her to feel me.

I closed my eyes, trying to concentrate as soft moans escaped her lips. My eyes shot open to find her pleasuring herself.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I grunted, but oddly… watching her, I felt a twisted pleasure too. I wished it were me, didn’t matter if I could touch her or not, I closed my eyes and pretended it was.

She climaxed, and the intensity of it coursed through me. I wanted it to be real so badly, I would have given anything. How long would this torture last?

This was my punishment. My punishment for all those years I had wanted nothing to do with her, for hating her so deeply I once wanted to kill her, for later trying to leave her. After everything she had done for me… this was my penance.

And I would bear it gladly.