by Malcom, Anne
But this was far from an ideal world. So I was almost impossible to find. Both Lucy and Rosie had commented and complained about it, more worried about my ‘cult’ than ever.
Obviously they still didn’t know the truth.
They couldn’t. Because they were the truest, most unflattering emotional mirrors. And they’d call me on my shit.
“Despite what we said to the contrary, that was a fantasy,” I said, keeping my eyes and my voice clear with effort. “We’re in reality now. And we need to face who we are. Who we really are. I’m a girl who marches for peace, loses her keys daily, is never going to keep to a schedule and wants to travel the world.”
I forced myself to keep his eyes, which were hardening with every one of my words.
“You’re a man who makes his bed with military corners. You live and ordered and violent life. You’re a grown up. A real one. Not me, who’s just pretending. That’s who we are. Who we were before. And for a weekend, we fit.” I sucked in a breath at the impact of those memories. “Because we knew there was an expiration date. But our lives are too different for us to work in reality. We are too different to work in reality. People don’t change, Heath,” I said. “No matter how long it’s been. At our core, we haven’t changed. And we won’t. I don’t want either of us to. No matter how much I wanted us...that’s the crux of it.”
“You’re tellin’ me we can’t be together because of how I make my fuckin’ bed?” he hissed.
“Among other things,” I replied, my voice shaking only slightly.
He stared at me for a long time. “That’s bullshit, Polly. And you fucking know it.”
Did I?
I wasn’t sure what I knew anymore.
But I did know that I couldn’t survive trying this, jumping into this like I jumped into everything else, like I had that night all those years ago, and have it leave me.
Have Heath leave me.
Again.
I prayed he didn’t push me. Didn’t press his body any closer to mine. Didn’t kiss me.
Because I knew for certain if he did any of those things it’d be done. Over.
My resolve would be shattered. I’d give in. I’d jump.
And then eventually, something would happen. I would happen. And I’d do what I always did. Fuck something up. Do something oh so Polly.
Heath was staring at me, his features morphing, shifting.
He didn’t say anything. He didn’t press his body closer to mine. Didn’t kiss me.
And I should’ve been relieved when he stepped back, running his hands through his hair in frustration.
But I wasn’t.
“I’m not gonna try to convince you what’s right when you’re trying so hard to convince yourself of what is wrong, Polly,” he said. “You’re not a girl that lives in a fairy tale, no matter what the world thinks. I know you. And you think you’re looking for a knight to save you from yourself. To chase you. To convince you to take a chance. I’m not a knight. Not gonna save you. Mostly ‘cause no one can save you from yourself.”
And then he turned on his heel and left.
And he didn’t save me.
I didn’t save me either.
I jumped farther in that false fairy tale, that false reality.
Because I was Polly.
And I was fucking things up.
Irrevocably.
* * *
One Month Later
A lot could change in a month.
Especially when you were willing yourself to change in that month.
Especially when you’d convinced you had to change in order to survive. That you were really saving yourself, and more importantly, him.
I didn’t change by getting my life together, by finding a ‘real’ job, moving into a ‘real’ apartment, or truly trying to figure out who the heck I was.
I changed the ultimate Polly way.
With a guy.
“I know this is exceptionally cheesy, but I’m going to say it anyway in the vain hope that you find it endearing enough to give me a chance,” a voice said from beside me.
I looked up from my matcha latte.
I was faced with an attractive man.
A very attractive man.
He was tall but not too tall. Tanned enough to show me he went out in the sun, but not too much to tell me he lay in a sunbed. His features were masculine but not sharp. He had muscles peeking out from his simple white tee, but they weren’t excessive.
Weren’t like...no. I was not allowed to think of him.
His eyes were what got me. They were blue, blindingly so. Kind. Smiling. Clear. Free of demons. Of danger.
I put down my book.
“I’m listening,” I said with a smile.
He smiled back. It was easy. Natural. “You are quite easily the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. And I couldn’t physically bring myself to go a second longer without talking to you. Without knowing your name.”
It was cliché.
And cheesy.
But it was also nice.
Easy.
Natural.
Simple.
So I gave him my name.
And my heart.
The smallest and last undamaged piece that I tried to convince myself didn’t belong to someone else.
* * *
Three weeks passed with Craig. Three weeks I threw myself into with more force than I had with any other man.
Except...him.
I threw myself in, convinced myself this was it, this was right because there was no other choice.
And it was right.
Craig was easy to be around. He complimented me daily, even if they were rather cheesy, over the top poetic compliments.
They came from his heart.
He gave me his heart.
He was easy to love. I knew that because I was falling in some kind of love with him.
I was making myself fall in love.
That’s what the fairy tales didn’t tell you. About the girl who made decisions with her head instead of her heart, who chose to love the man who was safer, instead of the man she had no choice in loving.
And that’s what had me saying yes when Craig went down on one knee after less than a month of dating.
“I know it’s been three weeks, but I can’t go another three seconds without knowing I’m going to spend eternity with you,” he said, holding a large, obviously very expensive diamond. It was beautiful. So very beautiful, I knew that scores of women would actually scream when presented with it.
I hated myself for having the thought in the middle of a romantic and beautiful proposal—but it so wasn’t me. I would’ve liked something smaller, something vintage. Something with a story.
“Polly, I know you want to take adventures, and I promise I’ll take you on as many as I can. If you promise to take this adventure with me.”
I jerked myself out of my head and scolded myself for having such thoughts, especially when Craig was spinning literal poetry. On one knee. In his bedroom. With rose petals scattered around us.
My heart should’ve been full.
It wasn’t.
Until I forced it to be so.
“Yes,” I whispered.
It was then that I realized that he’d slipped the large and cold diamond on my finger before I’d spoken.
* * *
L.A. was not a place you ran into people you knew. It was too large, too sprawling. Everyone was rushing to one place or another. They were stuck in traffic, in line at some juice bar, trying to get into some party, trying to get out of some party that was nowhere near as fabulous everyone said it would be.
So you didn’t run into people you knew. Or friends. It was hard enough to purposefully run into friends when you tried to plan it. Especially my friends.
And we were trying to make a plan for all of my friends to be at the loft at the same time for my last night living there.
I was moving in with Craig.
Which made sense. I
was marrying him.
“I thought you’d be glad to be leaving that place,” he said when I’d shed a little tear while boxing up my stuff. He looked around. “We’ll be somewhere with proper plumbing, furniture...privacy,” he said, staring at the door where the sounds of Rain’s hard rock was vibrating the door.
It was safe to say Craig didn’t understand the loft.
But that was okay.
No one understood the loft.
Even the people that loved me the most.
The people who were shocked but supportive about my quickly upcoming nuptials.
After a lot of teasing about Craig’s name.
“It’s so...normal,” Lucy said, nose screwed up.
“I was sure your fiancé would be called Stryker, or Matthias,” Rosie said. “You know, something weird. Craig isn’t weird. And that’s weird.”
Once they got over his name was Craig, they were supportive...ish.
Granted, we’d only been engaged for less than twenty-four hours. I was sure they didn’t plan on it sticking.
I was Polly, after all.
We were grocery shopping. Such a mundane, normal and peaceful thing for a couple to do.
So obviously my peace was shattered with the man standing in the cereal aisle.
I froze.
Right in the middle of the aisle.
Craig noticed.
“Polly? What are you—”
“Don’t say my name,” I hissed, preparing to run.
But the man standing the cereal aisle with four women staring at him, almost drooling, had badass super senses and heard my name, so he turned.
And his eyes met mine.
I hadn’t seen him in almost months.
Since the day at the hospital.
If I was honest with myself, I’d expected to see him. Expected him to come after me. To shake me out of my idiocy. That’s what the hero did, after all.
But Heath promised he wasn’t going to save me from my worst enemy.
Myself.
And Heath kept his promises.
So the first time I was seeing him was in the cereal aisle of Whole Foods, with my new fiancé standing next to me.
I expected him to look at me with that hardness in his eyes that had calcified when I’d pushed him away. But at first, for that beautiful moment within a moment, they were soft. They weren’t chiseled away from the years, from my stupidity, my cowardice, the violence that had settled in his soul.
And then the moment was over.
Craig’s hand slipped into mine.
Heath’s eyes went to our intertwined hands.
And they hardened.
I thought he’d walk away.
Of course he didn’t.
Heath was not a man to shy away from a battle.
“Heath,” I said when he came to stand in front of me.
In front of us.
“Polly,” he replied. The way he uttered my name was some kind of accusation.
Craig squeezed my hand a little too hard.
“Heath, this is Craig,” I stuttered, moving my eyes back and forward between the men.
Heath didn’t move his gaze from mine.
Craig held out his hand.
An awkward moment clutched us as Heath ignored the hand, ignored Craig’s existence.
Then he took it.
“Craig is my...” I trailed off because I couldn’t physically say it. Not in front of Heath. In front of the person I was with him.
“Fiancé,” Craig finished for me, letting go of Heath’s hand and pulling me into his body, kissing my head. “That’s the first time I’ve gotten to introduce myself as your fiancé,” he murmured, loud enough for Heath to hear. “I like it.”
I should’ve too.
Even in the midst of this moment, I should’ve liked the way it sounded against the air.
But Heath owned the air around me.
So the word I’d convinced myself fit just great, itched, tore at my skin.
I smiled at Craig.
I was a coward and avoided Heath’s eyes.
“Sorry, how do you know Polly?” Craig asked, voice still pleasant but there was an underlying hardness, suspicion and he held me a little tighter as he said it.
“He works for Keltan,” I said quickly before Heath could open his mouth. Though he didn’t seem too eager to speak. He seemed frozen in front of us.
Craig’s face was vacant.
“Keltan,” I repeated. “My sister’s husband.”
“Of course,” Craig said, smiling.
The awkward silence lingered on.
“Well, we should be going,” Craig said. “We’ve got lots to do.”
Heath only nodded tightly once.
“It was nice to meet you, bro,” Craig said.
I couldn’t speak so I offered a lame little wave.
A wave with my left hand.
The one that was suddenly heavier than the weight of my shame.
And I let Craig lead me away.
* * *
I didn’t expect to see him again.
In fact, I’d been counting on it.
Counting on him keeping his promise and not saving me.
But he chose now to break his promise. Now being the last night in my old home before I made a new one with Craig.
When it meant the most and nothing at all.
“You shouldn’t be here,” I whispered, unsure why I was whispering since somehow the loft was empty yet again.
He didn’t reply. He just stood there, staring at me, accusing me like he had at the store.
Just when the silence was too loud, too uncomfortable, too heavy.
He spoke.
He crushed me with his words.
“Does he tell you he loves you every day, Sunshine?” he asked, voice cruel. “Does he make promises about how he feels and what he’ll do for you?” He stalked forward, not waiting for me to answer. “Yeah, I know that he does because I’ve seen him and he’s the kind of man who makes promises, who tells beautiful girls he loves them. But he’s not any kind of man for you.”
He was close enough that the heat of his body singed at my skin while the ice of his gaze froze my veins.
“You don’t need a man who’s gonna tell you he loves you every day. Makes promises. You need a man who doesn’t make shit, doesn’t tell you shit. You need a man who shows you.” His mouth was inches from mine. “Thoroughly.”
I held my breath. I couldn’t inhale him. I didn’t trust myself.
Then he leaned back, eyes on my mouth. “He’s trouble, Polly,” he said, stepping back and folding his arms.
“You don’t know him,” I replied.
“I wasn’t a good man when you met me,” he said instead of arguing with me. “War makes it impossible to be a good man. There’s no such thing as a noble cause when you have to kill another human being for it. Survival isn’t noble, not when we get down to the crux of it.”
He paused as if he sensed I couldn’t breathe when he was shoving words down my throat so they could pierce my heart.
I inhaled,
Exhaled.
He continued.
“I wasn’t a good man and I was at peace with that. Didn’t come from a good place, good people, so it’s not like I had the makeup for it. But somehow, taking the virginity of the one good, truly good woman I’d ever met and ever would meet—one of the worst things I’d ever done—turned a part of me, however small into a good man. And I carried that with me until I saw you and I wanted to be a good man for you. You turned me into a good man by givin’ me everything and you turned me back into who I truly am by taking it all away.”
He stopped with his words, with his attack and I gave myself two strangled breaths to recover. To realize it was time for an attack of my own.
“I don’t deserve this,” I whispered. “All of this blame because I didn’t jump at the chance to be yours when you came back into my life after years, after leaving me to wake up alone after givin
g you everything.” My voice was a low hiss. “Everything you took with you. I built my life around those days. I did it in a way that they stayed beautiful and untouched. Now you’re back, they’re not beautiful, because you’re turning me into this villain because I’m not being who you want me to be.”
“No,” he argued. “You’re not being who you want you to be, ‘cause you’re too fucking scared. If you didn’t want this, like truly didn’t want this, me, then I’d know, I’d fuckin’ see. Because nothing’s changed from that night. You still wear your heart on your face, and I see what it wants. Didn’t think you’d be a girl to let her head get in the way.”
And he walked away.
It was becoming common with us.
Him walking away.
Me being too cowardly to chase him.
And then I didn’t see him until my wedding day.
And by then it was far too late.
Chapter Six
Three Months Later
I was shocked to see him. More shocked than having Rosie tackle me to the ground just before bullets started flying.
Yeah, seeing Heath for the first time after he’d tried to stop me from marrying Craig was more intense than being involved in a drive-by shooting.
Especially since I wasn’t the one that was shot.
Rosie was.
I was too busy freaking out about that and the situation in general to notice Heath’s presence until he was literally dragging me away from Rosie’s bedside.
I would’ve fought him more if Luke hadn’t been there too. Luke would take care of Rosie.
Heath wouldn’t take care of me.
No, he might ruin me and my fragile state of mind.
He had me backed up against the wall in a secluded corner of the hospital before I could take him in. Before I could even inhale and exhale.
“Heath—”
“Shut the fuck up.”
I flinched and did as he ordered. Because his words were a whip, slashing against my skin. Opening up barely healed wounds. His tone was cold, cruel, brutal.
As were his eyes as they ran over me top to toe.
Twice.
Though everything about him was cold, my body was on fire.
He was cataloging me. That’s what he was doing, I realized. He was searching every inch of me for an injury.