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But he didn’t.
“Sunshine,” he murmured.
I flinched at the word. At the meaning behind it. Every time he said it was torture. But there was enough comfort in the pain that forced me to handle it.
“You remember how you said I light up a room?” I asked. “When we first met?”
“Yeah, babe, I remember,” he replied, body tight.
“I don’t mean to sound narcissistic, but I kind of knew I did that,” I said, looking down because I couldn’t meet his eyes. “Not because I think of myself as being overly brighter than anyone else, but because everyone else mutes themselves, who they truly are because they think that’s what they’re meant to do. They need to blend in. Not stand out. And I know I stood out. Because to me, blending in was a little death. It was a disservice to the meaning of life. I like to think I made things brighter because I made people realize that they could be who they were around me. Made it okay for them to let their light out.” I peeked up at Heath. “I know it’s stupid—”
“It’s not fuckin’ stupid,” he ground out.
I swallowed the power of his words. The passion in them. I didn’t let it stop me. “Well, I used to be a little proud of that,” I continued. “Most of my life I didn’t have it together. I didn’t really have a lot to contribute, I didn’t have a skill like Lucy has for writing and Rosie has for…chaos. I never let the fact I didn’t have a ‘thing’ get to me because I kind of thought of that as my thing.”
I sucked in a ragged breath against the power of Heath’s stare, knowing if I met it again, I’d crumble. So I kept talking.
“But now, I don’t have it anymore. I don’t light up a room. I suck all the light out when I enter. Like the people who love me most are afraid to be happy around me. I can see it in their eyes, that forced brightness. They’re ashamed to truly be joyous about their lives because how can they possibly be with poor, broken Polly around?”
Heath had gone still, absolutely still with my words, but I had to keep going. For his sake and mine.
“It’s because they love me so much, I know that,” I whispered. “But it’s because I love them so much that it kills me a little inside to be around them.” I said them when I meant him.
I finally got the courage to meet his eyes. “To be faced with just how draining I am, it’s exhausting. My light’s gone out, Heath. And I don’t know who I am now. Don’t know what I am now.” I sucked in another breath. “I can’t even begin to figure out who I am now when I’m wondering what we are.”
“There is no wondering about what we are,” he said. “We just are. After fucking everything. We are.”
I struggled against his words. “That’s not an answer,” I whispered. “After everything, that’s not an answer.”
His eyes didn’t leave mine. “Yeah, babe, it is. After everything, it’s the only fucking answer.”
Something that should’ve made my heart soar, would’ve in any other circumstance, suddenly made my blood boil. Anger, intense and unfamiliar surged through me.
I narrowed my eyes, finding it much easier to meet his stare that way.
“So what, now I’m the damsel again, now I need protecting, fixing, that’s what brought you back?” I hissed, the words cruel and unfair. “That’s what makes you think that we can work on this now that I’m hopeless and weak and you can be strong and heroic?”
Heath didn’t react to my anger, my venom. Not in the way I expected him to. With that cold and ruthless exterior that had been absent for this last month. The exterior I was trying to call forward to make this easier, somehow.
But this was not meant to be easier.
So Heath’s eyes softened at my ugly accusations.
“No, babe, it’s the exact opposite of that,” he said, voice equally soft, gentle. “What happened did not make you a damsel. And it sure as fuck didn’t make me strong.” He moved as if to step forward, he saw my entire body stiffen so he held himself back with a tight jaw.
His eyes ran over me with reverence. “It made you into something I don’t understand,” he continued. “Turned you into a survivor. But not like most people. Because those who survive, lose parts of themselves, big parts, important parts. Those who survive lose a little of what makes them human. And you haven’t lost an ounce of it. Your kindness. Your generosity. It should’ve made you hate the world. Hate everyone. When you’re showing everyone just the same amount of love that you have before. More, if that’s possible.”
