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I was full on sobbing now.
As was Mom if the sounds behind me were anything to go by.
Dad looked to Heath.
“You got her?” he nodded to me.
I was in Heath’s arms in a heartbeat.
“I always got her.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Two Weeks Later
“Hey, please don’t call me to tell me you haven’t thrown up again, I’m so very happy for you, but I’m late,” I answered Lucy’s call as I was rummaging through my purse for my keys.
Some things never changed.
“You’re always late,” Lucy replied.
I poked my tongue out at her even though she couldn’t see me.
“Don’t poke your tongue out at me,” she demanded.
I froze. Straightened. Looked around to see if Lucy was hiding in her car.
She was not.
“Are you psychic?” I asked seriously.
“Dude, if I was psychic, I would be using my powers for evil, not to spy on you,” she replied. “I just know you’re Polly.”
And she was right.
I was Polly.
Not exactly the same. I was scarred now. But every day, I was getting more like me. I watched the sunrise, every morning. Sometimes alone while Heath slept. Most of the time with Heath beside me. Or inside me.
I taught my classes, five times a week, multiple times a day. And I derived so much joy from it.
I still volunteered. I was helping Jay with expansion.
I still helped my friends out with whatever crazy plan one of them had.
But I also had Heath.
Really had him.
Every single day.
And he was planning for the days ahead.
Since he’d purposefully left the iPad screen onto a house listing.
I’d obviously picked it up because I was nosy.
And also because the house was beautiful.
It was by the ocean.
Old.
Beautifully restored.
It had character.
“Do you like it?” Heath murmured from behind me, arms circling me.
“No, I hate the beautiful yet quaint cottage by the sea,” I deadpanned.
He chuckled, and the sound vibrated all the way to my bones.
“Why are you teasing me with it?” I asked. I definitely couldn’t afford it, since I had little of Craig’s money left and I was planning on something else with the small amount I did have. The small amount that wouldn’t even make a dent in the deposit needed for such a house. It might’ve been quaint, but it was seaside. In L.A.
“Not teasing if you like it,” he said.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, we can set up an appointment. View it. If you hate it as much as you say, we’ll keep looking. If you don’t, we’ll buy it.”
I froze.
Heath noted this, as he noted all changes, big and small so he let me go and I turned to face him.
“Buy it?” I repeated.
He nodded.
“To live in…together?” I clarified.
He grinned. “We live here together.” He gestured around the apartment. “What’s the difference if I buy you a house to build a home with you?”
“It’s different,” I snapped. “It’s grown up and real.”
“Newsflash, we are grown up and real,” he said.
“You would do that?” I whispered. “Buy a house for me?”
“For us,” he corrected. “And yeah, I’d do anything for us. For you.”
I chewed my lip. “This is a lot.”
“Babe, it’s our future we’re plannin’ not a military coo,” he said, voice amused.
I chewed my lip. “I know that,” I snapped.
He pulled me into his arms and all the stiffness that had emerged with his words melted with his touch and I relaxed into him immediately. Well, my body did. My mind was still running.
“Baby,” he murmured, cupping my face. “Talk to me.”
That was it. Talk to me. He was so direct. He saw something was bothering me, he noticed it. And that in itself was something. Because in my experience with men—and I had a lot—they didn’t notice much or distinguish the subtleties in a woman’s demeanor. Or even the fricking obvious mood changes.
And even when they did, it was rarer still for them to address it.
Men didn’t like conflict, as a rule. Of course most would like to portray different, about their lack of fear directly correlating to their abundance of ‘manhood.’ But they were terrified of fights with women. Or even heated discussions. Anything that would make them uncomfortable, they avoided like the plague.
A huge generalization, but I’d done the legwork, so to speak.
It rang true.
For every man I’d dated except Heath.
He noticed the subtleties.
And then he cared about getting to the bottom of them.
He wasn’t afraid of conflict.
Of any kind.
Shit, I loved him.
“Well, I’ve lived my life spontaneous,” I said. “I’ve never planned. And it’s been quite common for me to decide to do a cross-country road trip when I’ve got a full tank of gas and nothing on that day. Or especially if I’ve got something on that day. I’m used to that. The unknown doesn’t scare me like it does other people. But this? Plans? Future? It’s terrifying.”
He kissed me. “That’s a good thing, baby. Bein’ scared means you’re livin’, really living.”
