Total pages in book: 139
Estimated words: 137119 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 686(@200wpm)___ 548(@250wpm)___ 457(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 137119 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 686(@200wpm)___ 548(@250wpm)___ 457(@300wpm)
He pressed his lips to mine hard and quick. “Well, I’m here, Sunshine. I’m here ‘til you understand it. And I’ll be here after too.”
It was another promise.
I shouldn’t have let him make it.
But I did.
* * *
Three Weeks Later
“Can I ask you a question?”
Heath’s eyes lightened with my words. Ones that called up images from the past. I hadn’t consciously chosen them. No, especially considering my question. I didn’t want those beautiful memories in the proximity of the words that I was going to utter next. But here they were, ready to be tainted like everything else was.
Of course, on the surface, it didn’t look that way.
I was getting close to becoming certified as a yoga instructor since I’d done some training...before. I was back to volunteering, with Heath at my side, of course.
I was back to helping Rain with her latest move—the girl couldn’t keep an apartment to save her life—to helping my friend Dave with his new role on a soap, running lines with him when I could.
I read to the kids at St. Mary’s. Every Thursday.
My timetable was full. Bursting.
Just like before.
But nothing was like before.
People weren’t babysitting me anymore. They were still bracing, but they were trying to get back to something resembling normal. Lucy was yelling at Keltan for getting her the wrong flavor La Croix. Luke was yelling at Rosie when she was still at the gun range.
The nurseries were being decorated.
Life went on.
Kind of.
I was still sleeping through the night, in Heath’s arms. He still treated me gently. Still wasn’t pushing. Though he could walk down the street with my hand firmly clasped in his and I didn’t feel the urge to yank it back. He could kiss me more often. Close-mouthed and quick, of course, but he could do it more. Obviously he did. Often.
As soon as he sensed I could take more, he gave me more. Another touch, another gaze, more murmured promises of the future.
Our future.
Our impossible future.
I should’ve tried to stop it again. But I was Polly, I never did what I should’ve.
So we were curled up on the sofa, watching Stranger Things and eating peanut butter popcorn. Heath had screwed his nose up the first time I put it in our cart—yes, we were grocery shopping together now—but then he tried it and we had to buy four packets to last the week.
My head had been on Heath’s chest, I had been almost content.
So of course that’s when the demons in my soul chose that moment to strike. That’s why I lifted my head and spoke. Heath paused the TV, turning to give me his full attention. He did that. Gave me his full attention. Always. I always got all of him. And I gave him tattered scraps of me.
“You’re askin’ to ask me a question?” he clarified, voice holding a bit of teasing. Only a bit, because the man he was now wasn’t capable of the light teasing, the light happiness of the man he was before.
I was largely responsible for this.
“What did you do with Craig?” I asked, deciding to plow right through with the emotional bulldozer.
My words worked to wipe that light teasing right off his face. Like right off. I hated that I had the ability to do that.
“I’m not strong enough for all the details,” I said quickly. “I’m not like Rosie or Lucy or the old ladies in the Sons of Templar. I don’t need to know everything. I can’t know everything. It’s not in me. But I need to know at least, is he breathing or not?”
I had a hefty amount of shame admitting what I couldn’t handle. The whole truth. I barely knew anything about how they found me, though I knew it had to do with the Sons of Templar and Wire since he had been there during the first horrible days of my recovery. Physical recovery at least.
But I didn’t know what was going on with the larger picture. The men who Craig had tried to sell me to. It was something I should’ve asked about. But I didn’t.
Heath was silent for a long time.
Long even for him.
I guessed by the way his fists were resting on the tops of his knees, the steady and forced breaths, he was trying to calm himself down.
Because of course, I needed to be treated with care.
I ached for him to not do that. To explode.
Because at least that was honest.
“Does it matter?” he said through clenched teeth. “He’s never going to hurt you again.”
“It matters as to whether he’s never going to hurt me again because he’s banished to Siberia or whether he’s in a shallow grave and you have his death on your soul,” I said.
Heath’s jaw ticked. “I have plenty of death on my soul. That one is not gonna haunt me for a second.”