Free The Heart by Kate Stewart Page A

as Grant’s voice echoed through my thoughts then shivered as I let out a pained cry. I’d just seen him. He’d just been there. Grant was just in front of me.
    It had been so real.
    I burst into tears and hugged myself, gripping the top of my shoulders as I began to sob. I barely heard Jack’s faint “Rose?” and was unable to respond, paralyzed in my state. Suddenly, I felt his strong arms encase me and didn’t think at all as I clung to him, greedy for the comfort. I cried into Jack’s shoulder as jagged pain coursed through my every limb.
    The pain was so intense, I couldn’t believe how close it was to the same unforgiving heartache I’d felt the hours, days, and endless weeks after his death. It had been months since I’d dreamed of him so vividly. It haunted me as I shook in a stranger’s arms.
    I couldn’t understand it. Why did this hurt so much more? Everything I loved about him had been thrust in front of me so clearly. I could still feel him all around me. I held on to it as long as I could as I allowed the tears to fall freely and let the hurt of abandonment have its way with me. I knew the pain, the god-awful pain so well. It had become second nature in the year that followed Grant’s sudden death, and yet it had felt like forever since it had consumed me. I’d been a fool to think I was free.
    Suddenly aware I was crying and Jack was the one consoling me, I pulled away and wiped my face. “God, I’m sorry. I must’ve had a dream.”
    Jack looked down at me, concern written all over his features. “I don’t know much about you, Rose Whittaker, but I do know without a doubt I hate seeing you cry.”
    “I don’t even know where this came from,” I said, trying to gather my dignity.
    “Well,” he said, pushing my hair behind my bare shoulder and staring at the newly unveiled skin, “Maybe you needed it. Sometimes the body has a way of ridding itself on our behalf.”
    I was stunned by Jack’s words and their depth. We stared at each other for a long minute, me still shaking slightly as I pulled my knees up in the chair and hugged them to me, him sitting next to me, rubbing my shoulders before he slid them down my arms in a soothing manner. I did my best to shake off my emotion and the lingering effects of my dream. Jack stayed quiet, a calming presence while I gathered myself. I found myself thankful that he was there. Something about his strength and confidence put me at ease.
    “You really were raised by more women than men, huh?” I said, admiring him again. He was freshly showered and in a dark blue dress shirt, jeans, and the same shiny black boots as the night before. His smell hit me next as I appreciated the mix of gold and sand in his hair. All I could think as I watched him watch me was: were the girls right?
    What if?
    I gave him a small grin despite the sick but dissipating feeling in my gut. “You are quite the gentlemen, Jack.”
    He returned my grin as he removed his hands. I felt their absence immediately, their warmth gone.
    “I try,” he said, surveying me once more with concern. “You okay?”
    “Yes, I’m okay. I’m embarrassed but okay, thank you.”
    “Nothing to be embarrassed about, but it must have been some dream.”
    “It was,” I replied, not meeting his eyes. His voice soothed me as I took a deep breath, finally able to shake the rest of it off.
    I looked toward the driveway, expecting to see his bike but came up empty. “I thought we were going for a ride?”
    “We are,” he said, jutting his chin out toward my Tesla.
    “Oh,” I said, a little relieved I wouldn’t have to fight his Harley again for my dignity. “Okay, I’ll grab the keys.”
    I walked inside the house, shivered from the coolness of the air conditioning, and caught my reflection in the mirror. I was flushed and my cheeks were tear stained, but I was smiling. I couldn’t believe the sight in front of me. It was me, but not the me I was used to seeing when I looked at my