Page 23

His first name hit him hard in the chest. Unable to speak, Mullens nodded, gave a firm shake, then returned to the bookstore on wooden legs.

Chad.

Why did Athena’s dad know his first name? Did he follow hockey? Mullens somehow doubted that. But even if he did, the sports announcers always called him by his last name.

He paused inside the warm building filled with the scents of new books, coffee and pastries, wondering what had been said about him within the confines of the Gavras family. And if he was already in, or already out.

Athena looked up, large dark plastic circles framing her eyes at a haphazard angle.

She wore glasses. Gigantic frames that were way too big for her face.

They were perfect.

He longed to straighten them, and found himself moving closer, unable to look away as she blinked up at him from the pages of the book she was skimming, as if momentarily lost between two worlds. She was undeniably adorable.

As she pulled herself back to reality, closing the book and adding it to a stack beside her, Mullens could see into her like a window.

Her hopes, her dreams. Her seriousness and pain were temporarily absent, and it was then that he knew Athena Gavras was the woman who finally had the power to break his heart.

Athena blinked and pushed away the books and paperwork stacked in front of her, watching as Chad grabbed a stool from behind her counter and set it across from her.

The shop was closed, but he was still here.

He’d hung around all evening, then helped with the cleanup without being asked.

He wasn’t going away despite the way she’d tried to shut things down between them at his apartment after their kiss. Kisses.

She wasn’t sure if she loved his stubbornness or resented it.

It hadn’t helped, seeing him use sign language to read stories to a child, while carrying that sad excuse for a puppy around in his sweatshirt. Her stupid ovaries were making their seahorse argument again.

Chad untucked his shirt, carefully transferring the small, sleeping puppy into the crook of his arm. He set Clem’s basket on the floor, tucking the dog inside.

“This okay?” he asked.

Athena shrugged. The cat would probably hate having the smell of an unknown dog in his bed, but what was she going to do?

Kick out the poor puppy or make Chad hold it even longer?

Brant Wylder was up to something with this latest rescue.

He didn’t let just anyone babysit one of his animals. And where had the man vanished to?

Something was definitely up, and him leaving an animal with Chad was a bold statement. A statement of approval.

“So you know Brant?” she asked.

Chad shrugged. “Not especially.” He’d returned to his stool, his elbows resting on the counter as he leaned forward.

“I’m heading out,” Meddy called as she came through from the kitchen.

“I have the dishwasher running, and I’ll come in early to deal with the rest of the kitchen, as well as bake another few dozen muffins.

” She peered through the glass at the back of the treats case and frowned at the crumbs.

Everything they’d made had been bought and eaten.

“We did good today.” Athena stood, wrapping her sister in a hug.

“Just the beginning.”

“Sure is.”

Athena had believed that she’d eventually back away from the store and let Meddy buy her out. But the way they were tag-teaming problems, she kind of loved being so ensconced in her sister’s life again—and in the community, too.

“See ya, cutie.” Meddy winked at Chad.

He lifted a finger and angled his head downward as though tipping an invisible hat. “Later, Medusa.”

She laughed at the nickname and headed for the back exit, and the outside stairs to her apartment above.

Chad slid off his stool again while Athena returned to hers, her feet throbbing after the number of steps she’d taken that day.

She watched him cross the room, his strong body full of ease.

He headed to the children’s section, scooping up the stack of books he’d selected earlier.

He set them in front of Athena, his credit card sitting on top.

“I donate money, my time, but also books.” He reclaimed his spot on the stool across from her. His focus felt intense and, as a distraction from the heat pouring through her and the dwindling oxygen in her lungs, Athena started ringing up his purchases.

This irresistible hunk was one big mystery, wasn’t he?

“The books go to an organization that helped my sister,” he said, and Athena let that information settle inside her.

“That’s why you know sign language?” She waited for the receipt to print, curious what more he’d reveal, if anything.

He nodded.

She thought for a moment, then decided to take a risk and walk through the conversational door he’d opened. “And she’s why you know your way around a bobby pin and earrings? You helped out a lot?”

He nodded again.

“And why you carried that man in the wheelchair into the Dragons’ headquarters when the ramp was out—you knew he was stuck?”

That one wasn’t huge, though. Anyone half present would have put two and two together. It was more the way he’d taken charge, knowing he could carry the chair, man and all, up the stairs.

Chad nodded again, not looking up. She stilled, afraid to make a wrong move and have him close down or shut her out.

“She was a bit vain,” he finally said in a low voice. “I used to tease her and call her Vainy. She loved it.” His smile was wistful, etched with love but also pain.

“When did she pass away?”

His focus went to his thumbs, which did a little dance around each other as he hunched forward. “I was thirteen.”

“That must’ve been hard.”

He inhaled sharply, clearly uncomfortable, and Athena silently prayed that he’d trust her with his pain and stay with the thread of conversation. Open up to her.

“How did your family cope?”

“There was no reason for my parents to stay together after that.”

“Yes there was!” Horrified, she looked him straight in the eye, wrapping her hands around his.

“Well, it wasn’t enough. They split. Went on with their lives. Left me behind.”

“Literally?” She withdrew her hands, indignation rising on his behalf.

“No. Sort of. It’s just—I shouldn’t complain. I had food on the table. A car to drive once I was old enough.”

And yet she could see the layers of pain and the shadows it had left behind.

His hands bunched into fists on the counter like he wanted to lift his hands and bang them down on something to release what he felt inside.

“The conference you were at—Sunshine something? Parents of kids with special needs?” she prompted gently. “Tell me about how that fits into your life. Did they help your sister?”

He shook his head. “They help organize and fund qualified respite care for families when they need a bit of time off. An hour or two here and there.”

“They helped your family?”

He shook his head again. “We didn’t qualify financially. My parents were both lawyers.”

“They’re not any longer?”

“My dad quit. Sold off our house and everything in it.” There was a bitterness in his tone. “Gave it all to the church and he’s now somewhere in Africa doing who knows what.”

“When did he go?”

“The day after I graduated high school.”

“And your mom?”

“She moved out a few weeks after my sister…” His voice faded and his Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed hard. “She has a one-bedroom condo. Still works eighty hours a week.”

Athena wondered where Chad had gone over Christmas, her heart hurting at the idea that he might have been alone.

“So your family didn’t use the Sunshine organization, but you support them?”

“They do good things. They help take care of caregivers so they can do their best.” He’d brightened slightly, and she could see that being involved with the organization was a ray of sunshine in his life, a connection of sorts.

“And so that was the photo op? You making a donation?”

“It was only supposed to take five minutes. Me, an oversized check, a couple of handshakes. A hello-goodbye.”

“But then?”

His expression drifted into a memory she’d love to understand.

“You saw someone you knew?” she guessed.

“Yeah.” His leg started jiggling, his lower lip dipping under his front teeth. “Some families I hadn’t seen in years. We’d go to the socials and support groups together when I was a kid. We got chatting and I lost track of time.”

“What were you doing when I came in?” she asked, thinking about the circle, the damp eyes and the calm, soothing tone he’d been using. Understanding, empathy and kindness. An entirely different side of Mr. Chad Mullens compared to his sports-hero image.

“Oh.” He scrubbed a hand through his hair, leaving it a mess. “Therapy?” He winced at her.

Adorable. Chadwick Mullens was like a lost, lonely child she wanted to hug and hold, keep safe.

Wait. Therapy?

“You’re a therapist?”

“No, no.” He spread out his hands, his rings shining under the lights above the cash register. “Just a casual group thing. Really, they just share stories. You know, let each other know it’s okay to feel the things we feel.”

“That’s a lot more important than a cookbook photo shoot,” she said quietly.

“No. I let you down.”

“Chad, what does a cookbook matter compared to easing someone else’s pain?”

“You’re not mad?”

“How can I be when you’re being…you.” When he was finally opening up and sharing how he felt. When he was out there helping other people despite his own distress.

He sucked in a deep breath like she’d given him air. Then those blazing eyes of his landed hard on hers and he said with devastating certainty, “Kiss me.”