The Heart Knows What the Heart Wants Read online

  He snorted and said, "There's always Jupiter." He leaned toward her and touched the planet on the back of her hand. "Or Neptune."

  Star tilted her head sideways and thought for a bit. "Jupiter promises good, so that doesn't really fit with the intention. Neptune might work. It does make it more personal, I suppose," she said.

  Shane nodded and sipped his coffee. He didn't quite know what to make of her form of logic, but talking about planets -- in any context -- was something he was up for any day of the week. He was anxious to find out how much she actually knew about the solar system.

  Chapter Nine

  Derek slammed the empty shot glass down on the kitchen table. Where the hell was Estelle? Sure, she sometimes got her feelings hurt. She was too fucking sensitive for her own good. How many times had he tried to tell her to toughen up? She'd left him in the past, but always came crawling home, begging him to take her back, and he did -- after he taught her a lesson.

  He felt his blood starting to boil. Both from the shots of whiskey he'd ingested and with the simmering anger he felt over her not being home where she damn well belonged. He leaned back in the kitchen chair and reached into the fridge for another bottle of beer. He popped the top off, tipped it back, and chugged half the bottle. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and picked up his cell phone, flipping through the screens with his thumb.

  "Hey, Astrid, let me talk to Estelle," Derek told Star's mother when she picked up.

  "What are you talking about, honey?" Astrid asked.

  "Estelle? Is she there with you?" He impatiently tapped his fingers against the table.

  "Estelle's not here, Derek," she told him.

  He scrubbed his hand against the stubble on his chin. "Look, we had a little disagreement is all. Tell her I forgive her, and I'm going to need for her to come on home now."

  Astrid paused. She wasn't sure what to say to Derek. He was obviously distraught. She knew the couple had had their share of problems and that they argued from time to time. She also knew Estelle had a habit of pushing Derek's buttons when he was drunk. Sometimes she took off for a day or two until things cooled off, but she always came back home. "Sugar, I haven't seen her. When did she leave?"

  Derek pounded his fist hard against the table, causing his beer bottle to sway. He caught it before it toppled over, cursing beneath his breath. "Dammit, Astrid, don't you lie to me! She's been gone since Sunday morning." He got up from the table and paced around the kitchen.

  "Calm down, Derek. I have no reason to lie to you, darlin'. I'm on your side. But Estelle is not here. I haven't talked to her in more than a week. Last I knew, everything was just fine between y'all," Astrid drawled, with her syrupy-sweet twang.

  Derek tipped the beer back and downed the rest of it in two gulps. "If she's not there, then where the hell is she?"

  "Did you ask that friend of hers from the bar? What was his name? Trevor or something like that? Maybe he knows where she went?" Astrid asked. She paused a few minutes. "Oh! Hang on. You know what? I bet she went up to Iowa to visit relatives. My sister lives in Iowa City. I bet that's where she might be."

  "Just fuckin' great," he muttered under his breath. "Thanks, Astrid." He disconnected the call, and reached for the last beer in the fridge.

  Even though he knew it was futile, he dialed Estelle's number again. It went straight to voicemail. Derek let loose a string of curse words and slammed the phone against the wall, shattering it to pieces. "Motherfucking bitch! You wait until I get my hands on you, Estelle. I am going to teach you a lesson you'll never forget," he roared to the empty room.

  He collapsed into a heap on one of the kitchen chairs. He knew he had to sleep on it. Get sobered up. Once he had a clear head, he'd figure out a plan for getting her back. One thing was for sure, if he couldn't have Estelle, nobody was going to have her.

  Chapter Ten

  "I've got to run up to Hannibal for a few things this morning," Neona announced. She leaned against the counter, sipped on the last of the coffee, and added, "I guess I'd better get going if I intend to make it back before my shift at noon."

  "I'm going to walk over and see what the verdict is on my car," Star said. She pushed away from the table and took her cup to the sink. She was painfully aware of Shane's eyes watching her every move. Being in such close proximity to him unnerved her in ways she hadn't felt since high school. His gaze warmed her from the inside out, and when he'd touched her earlier, his fingers had caused her woman-senses to ignite.

  Shane followed Star out onto the porch. He debated about going with her to talk to Hank, but didn't want to tag along uninvited. She seemed wary of him, and he'd never been one to overstep his boundaries, whether real or imagined. What the hell was it about this woman? He yearned to be close to her, yet felt she needed her space. As he watched her...the first words that came to mind were beautifully fragile.

  Michael wandered outside and stood beside Shane, his hands buried deep into the pockets of his uniform. Wordlessly, they watched Star disappear through the front door of Galen's Garage.

  "Wish I knew what her story is," Shane said quietly.

  Michael's law enforcement training made him naturally cautious of all strangers. He contemplated the mystery woman from West Memphis, Arkansas, but for completely different reasons than Shane. Since she was going to be staying at Neona's for an indeterminate length of time, he had decided to do some snooping around. "Who knows?" He shrugged.

  Neona finished tidying up the kitchen and shrugged into her winter coat. She folded the grocery list and tucked it inside her purse as she walked out into the attached garage. She tapped the illuminated button, and the overhead lights came on as the garage door slid open. She backed the Jeep out of the garage, waving to Michael and Shane before driving off.

  "Guess I better get down to the station," Michael said.

  Shane nodded. "Yeah, I'm going to go home and take a nap. I didn't get much sleep last night."

  He jogged down the front steps and unhooked his helmet from the handlebars of the small, nondescript motorcycle. Fastening the strap under his chin, he pulled the goggles down to protect his eyes from the sub-freezing air. He was thankful for his leather jacket and gloves on days like today. He knew he was the only person crazy enough to ride a motorcycle year round, but he didn't have any other options at the moment.

  Shane never complained about his mode of transportation. He figured it was karma's way of biting him in the ass, and he was lucky he didn't have to rely on walking to get wherever he needed to be. Especially with his bum leg and crabby back. Not that he had any place to go anyway. His travels consisted of going from his apartment above the convenience store, to his Aunt Neona's. There wasn't anything else to see or do in the no-stoplight town that overflowed with nothingness.

  He started the bike and gave it some gas. The back tire kicked up some loose gravel in the driveway as he pulled away. He felt tense and slightly anxious -- probably from laying awake all night fantasizing about Star.

  Star pulled the repair shop door closed behind her as Shane's motorcycle fishtailed slightly and took off toward the highway. The news about her car had not been good. The transmission was shot, and the repairs would likely cost more than the car was worth.

  She agreed with Hank not to waste any more money on the old Honda and suggested he sell it for scrap. She'd figure something out. Armed with a small cardboard box filled with all of the sentimental belongings from inside her car, she trudged back to her temporary home across the street.

  Star had enough money to last a little while, though she hadn't planned to spend it all before she got where she was going, and she didn't want to buy a car. Her options were quickly sinking from slim to none, and it was time for her to start putting some sort of a plan together.

  Inside her room, she took out her new cell phone and activated it. She wanted to hear Taylor's voice, but was afraid he'd hear the tears just beneath the surface, and dammit she was supposed to be strong! She typed ou
t a brief text, instead: Just me! Made it to Iowa. Have a happy Thanksgiving. xoxo, Stelly.

  She wasn't sure what had possessed her to tell him she was in Iowa. Maybe she didn't want him to worry. Maybe it was something else. Like insurance, in case Derek ever got a hold of Taylor's phone, which would be over Taylor's dead body.

  Around eleven, Star heard the garage door go up and went to see if she could help Neona carry anything inside. The afternoon was cloudy, and the temperature had dropped, judging from the chill inside the house. Neona greeted her with a smile. "Thanks for the help," she said.

  Star noticed a thin film of ice covering the hood of Neona's Jeep. "Are the roads icy?" Star asked.

  "Getting that way. I got home just in time, it seems," Neona said as she brought in the last bag of groceries.

  Star gave Neona the news about her car and wasn't too surprised when the woman nodded knowingly. "I had a feeling you were going to be here awhile."

  "I don't suppose there are any jobs around here within walking distance, are there?" Star asked with a sigh.

  Neona's lips pulled into a thin smile, and she patted Star on the hand. "We'll figure out something. Don't you worry. Things have a way of working out when you least expect it."

  Star chuckled and wondered to herself if that prediction came along with a crystal ball. "If you say so."

  "I do. Now, if you'll finish putting this stuff away, I've got to take Chili Dog outside and then get to work," Neona said. At the mention of his name, Chili Dog's toenails clicked across the linoleum floor, and he bounced on his hind legs like they were spring-loaded.

  Star laughed at the tiny, energetic dog's antics. "I can do that."

  A few minutes later, there was a loud, thunderous crash from the front of the house. Star dropped what she was doing and ran to see what the commotion was. She flung open the front door and gasped. Her hand flew up to cover her mouth. Neona was laying flat on her back, halfway on the porch, halfway on the steps.

  Star started to run toward her and slipped on the invisible ice covering the edge of the porch. Luckily, she caught herself before falling. She eased the rest of the way, taking tiny, shuffling steps toward the prone woman. Neona moaned in obvious pain and tears leaked from the corner of her eyes. Star knelt beside her. "Do you think you can walk?"

  Neona squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head slowly from side to side. "Not so much. I think my leg is broken."

  Star's eyes darted to Neona's leg, bent at an unnatural angle. "I think you're right," she whispered.

  "Call nine-one-one. Tell dispatch to get a hold of Michael." Neona winced.

  Star clutched the railing and carefully made her way back inside to do as she was asked. "Come on, Chili Dog!" she hollered. Once inside, she made the phone call and ran around to look for a blanket to help keep Neona warm and dry. Then she sat down on the ground beside her and held her hand until help arrived.

  Chapter Eleven

  Shane went home to his apartment. He was antsy, yet he felt dog tired. Never a good mix -- wired, and tired. He sat down on the sofa and locked his hands behind his head, staring up at the ceiling. He needed to get some rest before he had to go in to work later, but his thoughts were spinning so fast, they were making him dizzy.

  He stood and walked across the room to the old guitar case leaning against the wall. The acoustic guitar had once belonged to his dad, and Shane had taught himself to play. Over the years, he'd gotten pretty good. He pulled the Fender from its case and brushed his fingers lightly across the strings. He frowned as the sour notes hit his ears. It had been a while since he'd played, and the guitar sounded horribly out of tune.

  For the next half hour or so he strummed, listened, and adjusted the tuning knobs until he was satisfied. He closed his eyes and began to play a favorite tune from memory, "Time In A Bottle," a ballad by Jim Croce that was written long before he was born. Shane was his own worst critic. Since the accident, he didn't believe in himself or his ability to do anything well anymore.

  When he was a star basketball player for the Red Vale Raiders, he was the town's golden boy. Most people thought he could do no wrong. Girls wanted to be with him, and boys wanted to be him. Under Shane's leadership, the team won the state championship two years in a row, during his junior and senior years. His talent had earned him a scholarship to Iowa State University.

  Shane planned to attend college in Ames, play basketball, and study astronomy. He was going to leave Red Vale to go away to school and do the two things he loved most: learn all he could about the solar system and play basketball. He had his life plotted out as intricately as the night's skies.

  Shane's dreams died the night of his high school graduation. Out partying, celebrating his new-found freedom with friends, he got drunk and slammed his Chevy Silverado into a tree. His girlfriend, Lila Walker, was thrown from the pickup and died instantly. Shane was pinned inside the cab of the truck until the paramedics and the Jaws of Life could cut him from the wreckage. He got out with his life, but his leg was left so severely injured, he'd never play basketball again. No basketball, no scholarship, and without a scholarship, going to college was not written in his stars.

  After that, things began to spiral out of control for Shane. While still recuperating from his injuries, his beloved mother was diagnosed with stage four breast cancer. It was six months and twenty-three days from the day the cancer was discovered until the day she died.

  It wasn't that life had made him bitter. He just didn't give a damn whether he lived or died, and he lived each day as if it were his last, but not in a good way. His addiction to anything that made him feel better, at least temporarily -- painkillers, booze, and any drug he could get his hands on -- had Shane on a fast track to joining his mother in Red Vale Cemetery. If his Aunt Neona hadn't intervened when she did, he'd likely be dead right now, and there were many times when he wondered if he wouldn't have been better off.

  Shane played the guitar effortlessly, and it never failed to relax him as the music seeped into his soul. He played until his fingers were raw, and his eyes drooped. He stood and slid the instrument back into its case, before making his way to his bedroom. He peeled off all of his clothes and climbed buck naked between the sheets.

  As soon as his head hit the pillow, he was out -- dead to the world.

  When he woke some time later, he found himself staring up into Star's big brown eyes. "What the hell?" He blinked, rubbed his eyes, and took another look. He wasn't sure if he was awake or dreaming. "Pinch me," he whispered.

  Chapter Twelve

  As they loaded Neona into the backseat of Michael's police car to take her to the clinic in town, her largest concern was who was going to relieve Ami at the store.

  "Ami can stay on a few extra minutes until we get this all sorted out, Neona. Stop worrying so much," Michael told her.

  "Well, I know she can stay for a bit, but she can't be on her feet for another six hour shift. Not in her condition," Neona informed him.

  "She's pregnant, not helpless," Michael said. The muscles in his jaw tightened, and Star could tell that he was trying not to let his frustration show.

  "What can I do to help?" Star offered.

  Michael and Neona exchanged a quick glance. "Can you run a cash register and make change?" Michael asked her.

  Star resisted the urge to roll her eyes. "Of course."

  Neona huffed out strangled laugh. "You were looking for a job...leave it to divine intervention to help pave the way."

  Michael opened the passenger side door. "Come on, get in," he told Star.

  "Um, okay, sure," she said, and climbed into the car.

  Michael got into the driver's seat, and they headed toward the store out on the highway. "Ami is my daughter-in-law. She's due in a few weeks with my first grandchild. She's crabby, but her bark is worse than her bite. I'll have her stick around long enough to get you started." He peered sideways at Star. "Then I'll get Neona to Mercy Urgent Care."

  The roads were glazed w
ith a thin layer of ice, making the short jaunt to the convenience store take longer than it would have under normal circumstances. The salt trucks were out on the highway, and the temperature was hovering right at the freezing mark.

  "Saturn, Pluto, and Mars," Star hissed beneath her breath when they pulled into the packed parking lot. She turned to Michael her face white as chalk. "Is it always this busy?"

  He shook his head. "Not even close. People must have decided to stop and wait out the weather."

  "Ami is going to be madder than a wet cat," Neona mumbled.

  "It can't be helped, Neona." Michael sighed. He parked the car and told Star, "I'll go inside to let Ami know what's happened. Shane's apartment is up those stairs," he nodded toward the narrow, ice glazed steps at the side of the building, "would you mind running up to see if you coax him into coming down early to help out?"

  Star chewed on her upper lip and nodded before climbing from the car. Ice made the steps dangerously slick, and she took them as swiftly as she dared. On the landing at the top, she inhaled a deep breath and tentatively knocked on the door. She waited for him to answer, and after a moment, she pressed her ear against the door to listen for any movement inside. Nothing. She tried again, with a little more force this time.

  Not hearing any noises from the other side of the door after three attempts, she made her way back down to the ground. She leaned into the police car. "Neona? I don't think Shane's home," she said.

  Neona rubbed the palm of her hand against her forehead and blew out a noisy breath. "His motorcycle's here. He's probably sleeping. He sleeps like the dead, and it's damn near impossible to wake him sometimes."

  Star tucked a loose curl behind her ear and asked, "What should I do?"

  "He never locks his door. You're going to have to go on inside and see if you can wake him," Neona muttered. Beads of sweat trickled down her temples. It was clear she was in pain and really needed medical attention immediately.