Page 65 of Defend Her Heart

“Your watch. Was it your heartrate or something?”

She grabs her napkin and wipes the corners of her mouththat are now tipped up. If I didn’t know any better, she’s trying not to laugh at me. “Everything’s okay. Just my watch letting me know my heart rate is within normal range again. I’m surprised you didn’t know already, Doctor Google.” The dimple pops on her cheek, and now I know she is, in fact, laughing at me.

Relieved, I let out a breath and then shrug, not the least bit embarrassed. “Tease me all you want for researching. So what if I wanted to know everything I could know about POTS? It’s important to you, so it’s important to me.”

Avery’s smile slips for a second, a look of shock flashing across her face for the briefest moment before she paints her smile back on.

“You’re right. I’m sorry. It’s just weird for me, I guess.”

I tilt my head in confusion. “It’s weird because it’s me?”

Her arm shoots out, her hand landing on my forearm. “No! God, no. That’s not what I meant.” She scrunches her nose and bounces her head back and forth as she attempts to find the words. “Weird might not have been the best word choice. It’s new. I’m not used to having someone care so much about this part of me. To the point where he prepares three separate meal choices for me.”

My stomach sinks and then I’m clenching my fists. She’s been dealing with this for nearly two years, she told me. Last time I checked, she was married for most of that time. What the fuck does she mean, this is new? I’m sure I could guess, but I ask anyway.

“Your ex—” I clear my throat trying to force out his name, although I’d rather never have to say it aloud. “Bryan. He wasn’t very helpful I’m assuming?”

Avery scoffs. “You could say that.”

We’re approaching dangerous territory now. Her past relationship is the last thing I want to talk about, but if it means getting to know another part of her, it’s something I’m willing to do. I want to know everything. I especially want to knowwhat this prick did to fuck up the best thing that ever happened to him.

“What would you say?”

The question hangs between us. Avery drops her chin to her chest, and I watch the effect bringing up her ex has on her. I’m about to tell her it doesn’t matter when she looks up at me again.

“Bryan didn’t think anything was wrong with me. He told me it was just my anxiety and then pretty much told me I was making it all up in my head. It got to the point where he accused me of being with him for his money for all my hypochondriac doctor’s appointments. So, yeah, he wasn’t very helpful at all.”

I will fucking kill him.

Rage doesn’t even begin to describe what I’m feeling right now. What type of man accuses his wife of lying about her health? And then to go on and accuse her of being a gold digger? I’m whipping my phone out of my pocket to pull up our game schedule to see when we play St. Louis when Avery’s hand stops me.

“Connor, you’re shaking.”

I close my eyes and take a few deep breaths in an attempt to calm myself down. After my fourth breath, I feel my body relax. It’s not much, but it’s enough to keep myself under control. I think.

“I’m not going to lie, Aves. I’d like to murder that motherfucker right now.”

Avery laughs and shakes her head. The next thing I know, she’s standing up, and I’m ready for her to tell me she needs to go. I’m about to protest when she takes my phone from my hand and shoves it in her pocket. Then she reaches her hand out to me.

“Why don’t we go watch a movie instead?”

Without hesitation, I take her hand in mine, the soft skin of her palm like a caress against my rough, calloused one. Sheleads me to the couch, and once she sits down, I don’t join her until I know she’s comfortable and has everything she needs.

Grabbing the blanket that hangs along the back cushions, I carefully drape it over her legs, earning me a smile that sends my heart haywire. Before I sit down, I remember something.

“I’ll be right back.”

Jogging into the kitchen, I open the pantry and grab the caramel corn I bought earlier today. Ripping the bag open, I find a small bowl in one of the cupboards and fill it up. Reaching for her water cup, I take that with me, along with the bowl of popcorn, and join her back in the living room.

I set her water on the coffee table and then offer her the snack. “I figured you might want a snack.”

Avery grabs the bowl from me, looking down at its contents. She goes as still as a statue. Her eyes are locked on the kernels, and I begin to rock on my feet, unsure if I’ve made a mistake.

“I thought it was your favorite. I can get you something else.”

I attempt to reach for the bowl, but she leans over it, covering the top with both her arms. “No. Stop. It’s still my favorite.”

Our gazes stay locked on each other, the tension building once again. I clear my throat and survey the space on the couch. There’s plenty of room for me at the other end, but being that far away from her sounds like torture.