Free Fated Hearts by Becky Flade

resolved.”
    “No.” She shook her head to emphasize her rejection of that idea. “I’ve spent too much time running. I’ve earned the right to hold firm. I have the right to a life, whatever I make of it.”
    “Well, I’m going to crash on the couch tonight.” He held up his hand when she started to protest. “Doesn’t matter what you say, I’m staying.”
    Henley checked the clock. It wasn’t late, but she was tired. She wanted a shower, a glass of wine, bed, and one of her new books. She told Carter exactly that.
    “You don’t have to entertain me. I’m going to make a couple of phone calls, crack a beer, and watch television. Do what you want.” He grabbed his phone and went out onto the porch. Henley decided to read in the tub instead, so she selected a paperback and poured a glass of wine. She could see Carter’s silhouette through the window. She wouldn’t admit it to anyone but herself, but she found his presence comforting.
    She stared in the mirror as the tub filled with hot water scented with sandalwood and jasmine. Every experience changed a person, for better or for worse. Henley knew this better than most. Her former patients had shown her how resilient humanity was and that a person could grow after facing adversity. What had the last few years done to her? She was older, certainly, not in body but in spirit. She didn’t see Dr. Elliott anymore. It was her eyes, she supposed. They appeared both weary and wary. Yet she thought she saw a glimmer of hope.
    She twisted her hair up into a knot, stripped, and slid into the swirling water. With her eyes closed, Henley focused on tensing and relaxing her muscles, starting with her toes and ending with her face. She picked up the now sweating goblet and took a long sip of the sharp Moscato. Despite her best efforts, she couldn’t silence her mind enough to slip seamlessly into the story of her book. Old ghosts rattled her chain. She put the book aside and shut off the jets.
    When she exited the bathroom moments later, all but one light had been extinguished, and the room was cast in shadows by the blue haze of the muted television. Carter looked up from where he lay on the couch. He had removed the taupe uniform shirt, his belt, shoes, and socks. Wearing only a sleeveless tee shirt and unsnapped jeans, the remote in one hand and a bottle of beer in the other, he defined the relaxed male. And he was sexy as sin. Something about him made her think of that old idiom about still waters. He’d understand how tragedy changed a person, strengthened them. She often thought he saw right through her shields to the woman she wanted to be.
    She felt self-conscious in her flannel pajama bottoms and black camisole. She leaned against the back of the chair she’d perched in earlier and prayed the pose looked unaffected.
    “Do you need anything?” She thought his stomach muscles tensed at the unintentionally provocative invitation.
    “I’m good.”
    She nodded and carried her drink and book to the stairs with her. She paused at the bottom step and turned back. His eyes were on her, and the way he had to lift his gaze to hers implied he’d been staring at her rear end as she walked away.
    “Do you need anything?” His mischievous smile disarmed her, and for a moment her mind was a blank. She recovered, but she was certain he’d caught her hesitation.
    “How did ... whoever … get in?”
    “Through one of the porch windows.”
    She’d enjoyed her first cup of coffee with the dawn from the comfort of the porch rocker. She had opened the window on the right side of the front door to hear her cell phone if it rang. Henley remembered closing the window but was unclear on whether she had locked it.
    “Yeah, that one.” Carter had noticed her gaze shift. “I found the screen leaning against the side of the house. But he closed the window.”
    “And left the door open.”
    “Yeah.” Carter took a pull from his beer and rested the bottle on his stomach.