Heath was shorter than Seth, but Seth had a feeling the elementary school teacher had more to him than he let on. Despite his glasses and his quiet demeanor, something lurked beneath that calm façade. Seth had encountered too many men trying to hide their darkest parts not to recognize it now.
Seth had met Heath a handful of times when Heath had joined the Thornton brothers for drinks. Heath had been a good friend, especially to Harrison, and to Harrison’s wife, Sara, when she’d begun teaching at Fair Haven Elementary. Seth knew little about Heath, though, and since he’d been gone from Fair Haven for so long, he was at a loss at how to respond to Heath’s automatic antipathy toward him.
“Have you two met?” Rose said brightly—too brightly. “Heath, this is Seth Thornton. Oh, you must be Harrison’s brother,” she said, almost to herself.
Seth smiled grimly. “I have three brothers, actually. And two sisters.”
“Too many damn Thorntons around here,” Heath muttered.
Seth saw Rose register surprise; he had a feeling her normally quiet older brother was never this irritable around company.
Heath finally held out his hand, which Seth shook. Heath’s grip was clearly a warning, and Seth only gripped the man’s hand harder in response.
Be pissy if you want. Your sister is a grown-ass woman, he thought.
Of course, he could admit he’d acted similarly when Trent Younger had come sniffing around Lizzie last year after he’d broken her heart. Seth hadn’t minced words with her ex—who was now her husband and the father of her child—and Seth and Trent had only come to an understanding after punching the shit out of each other.
“You live around here?” Heath inquired.
“As a matter of fact, I live next door. Funny, right?”
“What a coincidence.” Heath turned his attention toward his sister. “What all do you need help with? Sorry I couldn’t come earlier.”
Seth knew when he’d been dismissed. Giving Rose a salute, he left, knowing full well that Heath DiMarco was staring holes into his back.
Seth collapsed onto his couch and drummed his fingers against the cushion. Seeing Heath act like some protective Neanderthal over his sister should’ve given Seth a very good reason to leave her be.
Yet he felt the opposite—it made him want her all the more.
What was it about her? For some reason, she reminded him of a hummingbird: all fluttery and colorful, flitting from flower to flower. Delicate and small, yet able to weather more storms than you’d expect.
He rolled his eyes at himself. Soon he’d be writing poetry about her. A hummingbird, really?
Next he’d be buying her flowers, taking her to fancy restaurants. He rubbed his temples at the thought of what came after going out to dinner.
Would she blush that same shade as he undressed her? He realized with a groan that her blush was probably the same color as her nipples.
Seth had enjoyed beautiful women before, although since he’d been on three tours, he’d never had time for a real relationship. When he’d returned to the States, he’d enjoyed the company of his fellow female soldiers, or perhaps a sister or two who visited base to see a brother. The longest relationship had lasted through one whole tour, although when Seth had returned, he’d discovered she’d gotten engaged to an attorney.
I need someone who’s here, she’d said when he’d seen her visiting her brother on base. You get it, right?
He did. But now that he had returned, who was he, really? He had to admit that he didn’t know more often than not.
He glanced at his watch. He still had hours yet before he’d need to get to work. After much persuasion from Lizzie, Seth had decided to start woodworking again, something he’d enjoyed as a teenager but had given up when he’d enlisted. He knew he needed something productive despite still receiving a small paycheck from the Marines.
He didn’t want to be a bum by any means. It just felt like any other job—accountant, barista, construction worker—seemed pallid in comparison to being in the military. It felt so…pointless, really.
Sometimes Seth wasn’t sure he was fit for anything except being a soldier.
Taking up a figurine he’d started a few days ago, he began to whittle, not entirely certain what the figurine was going to become. A horse? A dog? With a smile, he began to carve out the delicate wings of a bird—a tiny hummingbird, to be precise, caught in midflight.
Callie sensed Heath’s unease, and she followed him about Rose’s apartment as he paced. Rose had seen her brother agitated—to say the least—but never from something as benign as another man in her apartment. He was acting like he’d caught them naked and fooling around on the living room floor.
Rose blushed at the image. Feeling exceptionally foolish and out of sorts, she started unpacking more boxes. She needed to do something productive. She needed to stop thinking about Seth Thornton, and about fooling around with him.
“Do you know what you’re doing?” Heath asked. He crouched down next to her. “Rose, stop. Look at me.”
She glared at him. “How many times are you going to ask me that question?”
“Until you answer me with something that isn’t ‘I don’t know.’”
She sighed. “I moved here for you. I was content to stay in Seattle, but you wanted me close by. I lived with you for a month until I got my own place. I have a job, an apartment. A life. What more do you want?”
“You have a place with no furniture, no bed, and barely any things. You’re a waitress when you could be so much more.” His tone gentled. “I haven’t seen you in years. You wouldn’t let me see you.”
She looked away. She had hidden herself away from Heath. Not because he’d done something to her—quite the opposite. She’d been ashamed, and she’d wanted to lick her wounds without anyone hovering. Mostly, she’d wanted to hide from everyone and everything until maybe all of the bad would dissipate like a thick mist.
Except that wasn’t how life worked. She could run, hide, avoid, deny until she reached the ends of the earth, but it would all catch up with her eventually.
She hadn’t told Heath about her run-in with Rich, or how Johnny was getting impatient.
At the tender age of twenty, Rose had met Johnny Porter at a local bar, and she’d become enamored with him within two hours. Johnny had been handsome, self-assured, and he’d wanted her, tiny, unassuming, plain little Rose DiMarco.
After their parents’ deaths, Rose and Heath had been on their own. Heath had done his best to provide for them both; he’d finished college and received his teacher’s license. They’d never be rich, but it’d be a steady income. Rose had been able to attend college on a scholarship, and that was when she’d met Johnny.
But then Heath had been arrested for drug trafficking, which had been a total setup. Heath would never do such a thing. And Johnny had come to the rescue, promising to get the charges dismissed and erased. All Rose had to do was stay with him.
She’d had no idea what that would really mean. That staying would mean imprisonment in that tower she hated so much.
Heath didn’t know the deal she’d made with the veritable devil. He thought she’d gotten the money some other way. She would keep it that way; she never wanted Heath to feel guilt over a decision she’d made herself.