He stood, and gathered me into his arms. “Let’s get you home,” he said.
I glimpsed up at him through my tears. “I am home. I’m sorry that it’s taken me so long to realize that. That I’ve been fighting it because I loved you so much I didn’t want you to have the pain of loving me. I’m sorry I disappeared again because I couldn’t realize it without doing something so utterly Polly-like like walking ten miles in Birkenstocks.”
Heath smiled. “The only thing I care about is my wild, beautiful, strong woman is back. That she’s mine,” he said as he began to walk back to the parking lot.
“Wait!” I cried out.
Heath stopped immediately.
“Put me down,” I ordered.
“No way in hell.”
“Okay, well take me over there,” I gestured to the copse in the trees.
To his credit, Heath didn’t even ask questions, because he knew me.
The man was still there, sitting slightly straighter when Heath pushed through the small shelter to reveal his home. There was a littering of candy wrappers, empty bottles, tattered blankets. A pillow. Newspapers.
Heath stiffened at the man.
The man stiffened back, then his eyes went kind as he focused on me.
“See someone found you that’s gonna help you with your trouble,” he said, voice throaty.
Heath relaxed slightly. Even he could hear the kindness in the man’s slightly slurred words.
I moved so I could retrieve my phone which was now dead. “Heath, give me your charger,” I demanded.
I knew he carried a portable one everywhere. Not for him, because his phone was always fully charged, but for me.
He sighed and jostled me effortlessly to retrieve it.
I kissed his bearded cheek and then stretched my arms out, with both the phone and the charger in it.
The man in front of me just stared at them.
Another thing that showed me his heart. He didn’t snatch. He just looked at what I was extending with confusion, as if no one had offered him something before.
“Take it,” I said softly.
He bent down to put down his bottle, then straightened, taking the items gently from my hands.
I smiled. “Now, it’s not charged, because it’s my phone and I keep forgetting to do that. But my man always has a charger.” I nodded to the second item in his hands. “So you can charge it with that. And then you can call a man called Heath.” I nodded my head. “That’s Heath.”
“Pleased to meet you,” the man muttered.
“Likewise,” Heath replied.
“Oh, and I’m Polly.”
The man smiled. “Course you are,” he muttered. “Spence,” he added.
“Well, Spence, I’ll answer Heath’s phone since it’s now mine until I get another one since that’s yours now.” I held up my hand as he began to protest. “And I’ll hear no arguing because if I didn’t give it to you, I would’ve lost it in a few weeks anyway,” I said. “So you’ll use it. Call Heath. Then we’ll talk about this awesome place, where, if you feel like, you can visit me. I can cook a mean veggie lasagne, and you could even stay for awhile, you know, if you felt like it. No pressure.”
I was going easy because I knew a lot of people were insulted when well-meaning people tried to help them off the street.
“I’m asking this for mainly selfish reasons,” I continued. “Because a lot of people would’ve ignored me before. And if they didn’t ignore me, they were less likely to treat me with kindness like you did. So I want to thank you,” I whispered. “So if you call, if you come down, you’ll be doing me a favor.”
Spence was silent for a beat. “On one condition,” he said.
“Anything.”
“I want lasagne with real fuckin’ meat. Who eats veggie lasagne?”
I laughed then.
Actually laughed.
I would’ve thought such a thing was impossible in proximity to my horror. But I did so.
Heath’s arms tightened around me while I did.
And then I figured maybe I might be okay.
Maybe I might be able to go back to Polly.
A version of her, at least.
Chapter Twenty
Heath had carried me up to my apartment.
The apartment that I realized was now his apartment.
How it took me two months to realize was beyond me. Then again, I hadn’t been known for noticing such things. But it was hard not to notice the fact that I fell asleep on Heath’s chest every single night. He came straight home from work to the apartment every night. His clothes were in my closet. Aftershave neatly placed amongst the clutter of my various beauty products.
“You live here now,” I whispered as he sat down on the sofa, me still in his arms and he positioned me so I was in his lap. My stomach jumped as I brushed right against his crotch, the fabric of my leggings far too thin to work as any kind of barrier.
A small spark of carnal hunger came with that contact. One that I hadn’t felt in months not without something else tainting it. One I didn’t think I’d ever be able to feel. It was mingled with something off, something rancid, something that would always be there, tainting me. But there was something else. That need. That want. For Heath.