Page 3 of The Perfect Heart

“They’re from the lost and found.”

There was no answer, but the dark eyebrows rose higher.

“No one’s coming back for them—they’ve all been there forever. Take it, all right?” I shoved the pile into Halle’s arms before she could say no, giving her no choice but to accept them.

But she didn’t push them back at me. Instead, she slid her arms into the coat, stuffing the gloves into the pocket for later. The beanie, though, she stared at with a frown, holding it between her fingers like it was going to come to life and bite her.

“That’s mine.” I chuckled, intuiting the thoughts behind her expression. “The only lice you’ll find in there are mine.”

“Ewww.” My quip earned me a nose wrinkled in disgust and a laugh, but she pulled it over her head. “Aren’t you going to be cold?”

I waved away her concern. “You know me—I have a beanie problem. I’m not even going to notice it’s gone.”

Halle laughed again, quietly this time, her eyes sparkling with humor. “Still haven’t gone to Beanies Anonymous?”

“Not yet.” I scratched at the side of my head, where my hair was cut close to my scalp.

Then silence fell between us again, and I wasn’t sure what to say to fill it. I’d never had a problem finding words with Halle. Then again, that had been a long time ago.

But then Halle took a deep breath as though steeling herself for something, her fingers locking together until the skin was white. My heart rate spiked before she even said a word.

“So look. I’m actually here because I left my husband and need a job. You wouldn’t happen to have something open for me, would you? I know I don’t have experience—”

“You can start Tuesday. We’re closed on Monday, or you could start tomorrow.” The words came fast, without me even having to think about it, one running into the next, so quickly that Halle’s eyes rounded before her shoulders fell with relief.

“Thanks, Nash. I appreciate it. You have no idea how much you’re helping me out. I owe you big.”

I shook my head, waving my hand to add to the negation of her comment. “No way. You don’t owe me anything. I’ll help in whatever way I can—you know that.”

Halle’s smile was hesitant but warm, relief still echoing in her expression. Maybe, possibly, a glimmer in her eyes before she swallowed and took a deep breath. “Thanks, Nash.”

Another moment’s hesitation, and I pulled her in for a hug. She went stiff, and I nearly let go before she relaxed and wrapped her arms around me. Then her hold tightened, her fingers digging through the fabric of my shirt, like she was holding on for dear life.

We stood like that for a long time, in the dim quiet of the bar, until Halle finally pulled back. But not out of my arms—instead, she stared up into my face, our eyes locked, so close I could feel her breath on my skin. An odd shift met the feeling of her in my arms after so long, warm and real in my arms.

“Thanks, Nash. I mean it.”

I didn’t pull her back into me, though I wanted to. “Any time, Halle. That hasn’t changed. Never will.”

But Halle had changed, and I wondered what had changed her.

If it had anything to do with the fresh scrapes on her knees and the fact that she had shown up suddenly with nothing but her clothes and purse, not even a coat, I wasn’t sure I wanted to know the answer. There was a good chance it would break my heart.

Chapter 2

Halle

I FOUND THE KEY IN the planter box, just like Marie had said. If it weren’t for my mom’s friend, I would be sleeping, well, I wasn’t even sure where tonight. When I’d called my mom in a panic, when the fog had cleared from my brain enough to realize what I was doing and that I had no plan beyond “run,” she had called Maggie from somewhere in warmer climes for the winter. About half an hour later, I got a call saying I could stay in the apartment above her garage.

It had come with a warning—no one had used the apartment since her son had moved out five years before. And as I unlocked the door and turned on the lights, I could see why the caution.

The furnishings were old, a cobbled-together mix of pieces that had seen—much—better days, all covered with a layer of dust. The apartment smelled like no one had even opened the door or window in half a decade.

Shutting and locking the door behind me after struggling with the old casement, I got a window open. A frigid gust of air burst in, making me shiver, but the room immediately smelled better. Across the square of yard, I could see the main house, lit up though it was close to midnight—rental guests. I wasn’t sure whether having people so close made me feel better or worse. At least there was someone there, but they were complete strangers to me. Had Marie told them I would be staying in the apartment?

Looking around the room, I snagged one of the old, mismatched chairs at the table and dragged it over to the door. It took a few tries, but I finally managed to wedge it under the doorknob. Between that and the lock, I felt a bit better. At least that staircase was the only way in—the windows were too high up, and, if I remembered correctly, there wasn’t anything to climb.

Then I stood in the middle of the room and wondered what to do next. I had no clothes except what I’d worn and the coat, gloves, and beanie Nash had given me. I had no smartphone, having ditched mine at a bus stop halfway here in place of a simple keypad phone, which meant I had nothing to watch. I was hungry, too, but asking Nash for food had been more than I could handle. Instead, I grabbed my last candy bar out of my purse and collapsed onto the hard bed mattress while I chewed slowly, hoping to trick my stomach into thinking it was full.