Page 47 of Tangled Hearts (Mended Hearts #4)

Eli

“ W e want to thank you all so much for being here,” Roman says, eyes scanning the crowd.

“The Hart Foundation is a labor of love for us, and we couldn’t do what we do without all of you and your generosity.

If you all would, please welcome my son Eli to the stage.

He has a few words he’d like to say this evening. ”

My fingers twitch at my sides, nerves rattling in my stomach. I find Nic in the crowd. He’s standing by Molly and Liam. Liam gives me a goofy thumbs-up, and Nic smiles, then nods slightly. I can do this.

The crowd claps as I make my way across the small stage to Dad. He hands me the microphone. I grip it tightly in my clammy hand.

“Thank you,” I say into the mic, trying to collect myself.

I can feel everyone’s eyes on me, but I’m not going to let it derail me. I find Nic again, and the way he’s looking at me has me feeling like maybe I can do this. I blow out a breath. “The Hart Foundation means a lot to me.”

I close my eyes, then open them again .

“We as human beings often want the same things. Safety. Love. Support. A place to call home. It’s instinctual, almost.” I take another breath.

“Some of us don’t get that. We are shown that the world is ugly from a very young age.

” I let my gaze fall on Dad, then I find Uncle Hold. He’s already got tears in his eyes.

“I was fourteen when I was kicked out of my home. For nothing more than being myself.”

A murmur goes through the crowd. “It was the dead of winter, and I left with nothing but the clothes on my back, some bruises, some blood, and the remnants of lip gloss.” I chuckle, waving a hand over my made-up face. “As you can see, I’ve always been fabulous.”

There’s tittering laughter from the crowd, but I sober. “Roman Hart, my dad, has a way with terrified kids. Maybe it’s because he was once the scared kid who needed someone himself. Or maybe it’s because some people, like him, have hearts of pure gold. But whatever the reason, I’m thankful.”

I chance a look at Dad, which is probably a mistake because he’s crying, and that’s always a sure way to get me going too. I have to look away quickly, my eyes burning.

“Roman—my dad—brought me inside. Fed me. Made me hot chocolate. He sat with me.” I glance around the crowd. “I think sometimes we want to help people so badly that we underestimate how much just sitting with them can help.”

I find Dad’s gaze again. He nods, giving me a proud little smile, then leans into Other Dad’s side.

“He didn’t ask me to talk. He didn’t ask me to unpack my trauma.

He didn’t even ask me to trust him. He sat with me.

In silence. He let me feel what I needed to.

And trust me, in the early days there were a lot of feelings. ”

I find Nic again. God, I can’t believe he’s looking at me like that.

It feels like that look is for someone else and not me.

Like there’s no way I’m worthy of that. I am, though.

I am worthy of that. I clear my throat again.

“When you’re a kid who’s never had a bed of your own, who’s had to find their own food—and there wasn’t a lot.

When you go through things most adults couldn’t withstand, trust becomes a rare thing. ”

Oh God, I’m not going to cry. I will not. I squeeze my eyes closed for a second. “No one told me to put those emotions away. They didn’t tell me not to feel them. They sat with me while I worked through them.”

I sniffle. “I think that, more than anything, is what The Hart Foundation is. And what they do. It’s not an organization.

Or a building. Or a program. It’s a living, breathing thing.

Someone with a heartbeat and a gentle voice.

” I glance at Beck. “It’s someone with a steady hand wiping blood from your face while they assure you they can get it out of your shirt.

It’s hot chocolate made with water even though milk is better.

It’s cookies before and after your dinner. That’s what Roman has built here.”

A tear drips from the corner of my eye, and I look up.

Thank God for waterproof makeup. I dab at my face before looking back at the crowd.

“I was given a second chance at life. Because of this place and these people. And getting to be a part of bringing that to others is the biggest blessing in my entire life. So in saying that, I want to say this. Thank you. Without you all, this wouldn’t be possible.

Thank you for believing in our cause. For donating your time and your money.

Thank you for believing in kids like me, for thinking we deserve better, and for helping us achieve it. ”

The second my feet hit the ground by the stage, my legs go a little shaky. Before I can blink, The Dads have me wrapped in their arms. “So fucking proud of you, Eli,” Roman murmurs. I can barely hear him over the sound of the applause, but oh well. I let myself sink into them.

Beck kisses my forehead. “I think you need to find Nic, kiddo.” He’s right for sure, so I slowly pull myself from their hold and make my way through the crowd to Nic.

At this point, I don’t even care who sees.

We’re telling Uncle Hold and Uncle Julian tomorrow anyway, so what does it even matter if they find out?

Before I can get to Nic, Liam and Molly jump at me, hugging me tightly.

“You did great, Eli,” Liam chokes out, voice wavering. The Hart Foundation means so much to him. Probably as much as it does to me.

“You really did,” Molly adds, pressing a kiss to my temple. “I’m so proud of you.”

When they finally let me go, I lock eyes with Nic, who looks like he wants me in his arms like right fucking now. God, I love him. He holds his arms open, and I collapse into his embrace. “You did so good, doll.”

“I’m shaking,” I whisper, feeling like I’m actually about to vibrate right out of my skin.

He lets out a low laugh. “I can feel that.”

“Can we go somewhere quiet?” I ask, trying to burrow deeper into his arms.

He hums and pulls away before linking his fingers with mine and leading me through the crowd.

We step into a quiet hallway, and he wraps me up in his arms again. “Your speech was so good, Eli. I loved it.”

I laugh. “I was fucking terrified. ”

He pulls back, then tilts my chin up to force me to look at him. “I know. But you did it anyway. You’re so fucking brave, doll. And I’m so fucking proud of you.”

He lets his hand stray to my throat, and I shiver when he brushes his thumb along my pulse. His fingers tighten on my throat the smallest bit, and I just… unwind.

My body goes lax, my heart rate slowing. This is so fucking everything. “Good boy,” he whispers, brushing his lips over mine.

I nod, a small whimper rising in my throat.

He seals his mouth over mine, his fingers still squeezing the sides of my throat.

I kiss him back, my head going a little fuzzy.

When he breaks the kiss, he keeps his hold on me, then rubs his nose against mine.

“I love you, Eli. I’m so fucking in love with you. ”

My heart nearly explodes from my chest, my entire stomach erupting in butterflies. I blink up at him, my body relaxed and my mind quiet.

The sound of approaching footsteps catches my attention, and I look to the side just in time to see Holden coming to a dead stop. He takes in our position, his eyes scanning Nic’s arm, up, up, up to where his hand is still wrapped around my throat. Nic drops his hand, taking a step back from me.

I’m not sure it matters, though. We’ve already been caught, and that’s alright. It’s not like we planned on hiding forever. “Hey, Uncle Hold,” I say, swallowing hard against my nerves. Hey, I said it would be okay, not that I wasn’t gonna stress about it.

He doesn’t respond, and something about the way his chest is rising and falling feels… off. “Hold?” I take a step toward him.

Holden’s eyes find mine, and there’s recognition there. I know he sees me, but then something switches off. “Holden? ”

He licks his lips, swallowing so hard I can see the bobbing of his throat. He opens his mouth, and I brace myself for him to tell us he doesn’t approve. But nothing comes out except for a weak, gasping sort of sound. Panic flares in his eyes, then fear—naked fear.

“Holden,” I repeat, my stomach churning. “Nic, what’s going on?”

Nic doesn’t answer, but he steps up beside me.

Holden’s fingers twitch at his sides, then his hands come up. Slowly. He wraps them around his throat, his eyes going hazy and unfocused. “No.” The word is whispered so quietly I can barely even hear it.

“Holden?” I step closer to him, reaching out, and the second my fingers connect with his arm, his body convulses.

“No. No. It’s not real. It can’t be real,” he whimpers, then he crumples. I try to catch him, but I don’t react in time, and he hits the ground.

I reach out to touch him, and a rough, half-choked scream leaves his throat. Something’s wrong. Something’s so fucking wrong. “Holden. Look at me,” I snap, my stomach souring.

Nic kneels beside me and tries to pull Holden into a sitting position. Holden lashes out, his fist glancing off Nic’s jaw as he fights to get away from us.

His hands go back to his throat, and he gasps. Wide, panicked eyes latch onto mine, but I’m not sure he sees me. Holden makes an pained sound in the back of his throat, and then he’s clawing at it. So hard that he breaks the skin, and blood beads up and smears across his throat.

Nic grabs Holden again, forcing his hands away from his throat. Forcing him to stop. “Holden. You’re okay. It’s us. Nic and Eli. You’re okay.”

Holden starts crying, awful, gut-wrenching sobs. Sounds I’ve never heard him make before as he repeats no over and over again. My panic rises, my throat closing up in fear as I glance around. We’re alone. And no one seems to be able to hear us. I don’t know what to do. “Nic. Go get Julian.”

He hesitates, ignoring me for a second. “Holden. Hey, can you hear me?”