by Anna Brooks
“Polly, wait,” he calls from behind me, and I whip around.
“What? Want to insult me more? Lay it on, Erik. What else? My boobs ain’t big enough? My apartment too small? My clothes not the right brand?”
In his defense, he looks surprised. “I didn’t mean to insult you. Honestly, you think that?”
I cross my arms and then toss them in the air, undecided on what I’m feeling. “Whatever.” When I reach the door, I push it open and go right to a booth without waiting for the hostess to seat me. He comes in after me and sits next to me, leaning closer and crowding me into the corner.
“I’d never hurt you or insult you, so I don’t know what the hell kind of shit you’re trying to pull—”
“I’m not pulling any shit. You’re implying that I’m so pathetic and broke that I can’t even afford to buy food. I can afford it. I can buy my own damn food. Just because you”—I point at him—“had sex with me, doesn’t mean I should let you order me around and treat me like I’m some kind of fucking whore.” As the words leave my mouth, I let the despair behind them slither out, too. And just like I knew he would, he recognizes it… The humiliation. The shame. Somehow, his eyes soften while his jaw hardens.
Before he can mutter a word, I push him and try to get out of the booth. My lungs are tightening and dots blur my vision. “Move. I need to get out of here.” I shove him again, but he doesn’t budge, so I somehow manage to squeeze between him and the booth. Without trying to make too big of a scene, I leave the restaurant and reach Erik’s car.
He’s right behind me though, and I know if I get in that car with him, he’s going to demand something I don’t want to give. So I run.
Chapter 7
Erik
“Shit,” I mumble under my breath as I take off to catch her. She’s fast, I’ll give her that, but I’m faster. By the time I reach her, we’re halfway down the block already. I wrap both of my arms around her and lift her off the ground. Her feet continue kicking, and she connects with my shins. “Stop.”
“Let me go.” She grunts as she tries to twist out of my arms.
“Never.”
“Erik, I’m serious.”
“So am I.”
I walk us a couple of steps back and sit on a bench by the bus stop, setting her next to me. She stays put and catches her breath while I try to process the past few minutes again. Because the first time I heard her say it, I really don’t think I heard her clearly.
“I’m not the person you think I am, Erik. I’m not broke. I’m not pathetic. I’m not weak.”
“I never once said those words, so don’t try to twist anything to make me the bad guy.” I turn and look at her profile.
Her knee bounces, and she squeezes her dainty hands into fists on her lap, but she doesn’t say anything. The mask she’s suddenly put on makes her look like a completely different person. I don’t like it. I’m just about to say something, even though I don’t know what, when she stands.
“I really need to get to work.”
“Polly, I—”
“Please don’t. Can you take me to the diner? Otherwise, I’ll walk. I really need to go.”
My head rises, and when I catch her eyes, it tears me apart. Gone is the loving, funny woman I spent the night with, and in her place is a woman defeated and sad… so fucking sad. “Yeah, sweetheart. I’ll take you.”
We walk back to my car, and she gets into her seat before I even have a chance to open her door. There are so many things I want to say. So many questions I want to ask. A million different ways I need to show her how much I’ve come to care about her in the months I’ve known her. But she’s crossed her legs and arms, and turned her entire body so her back is facing me. She couldn’t shut herself off more to me if she tried.
I know what it’s like when somebody pushes, when they try to get you to talk when you’re not ready, or when the last thing you want is to share how desperate you are. How pathetic you’ve become. How low you’d go. So even though I want to, I don’t say anything or ask the questions burning on my tongue. I pull up to the curb in front of The Lunchbox, and she hops out and walks inside without a second glance.
I don’t have to work at Complexity today. I thought about going back to Cali for a couple of days, but after a quick check in at the office, I tell the guys not to expect me for a while. They’re used to me being sporadic. As long as the work I need to do gets done, they have no reason to care. My focus hasn’t even been on The Firm lately, anyway.
I do need to go to the gym, though. I need to hit something. Beat the shit out of an inanimate object until I’m so worn out, the only thing I can think about is how sore my muscles are.
After a quick stop at home to change, I drive across town to the gym. I’ve spent more hours in here than anywhere else since I’ve been back. The parking lot is relatively empty, which is good. The old warehouse door creaks as I open it, and then slams shut behind me. I walk over to the lockers on the far wall, find mine, and turn the dial on the lock. Once I toss my keys inside and grab my wraps, I head over to the treadmill.
As I’m slowly jogging, I wrap the cotton around my hands then speed up for a few minutes before I head over to the bag. The first hit is always the best. It’s the one where you remember how good it makes you feel.
In virtually no time at all, I’m sweating and taking out every ounce of aggression. My mind is a clusterfuck, but my movements are crisp. Precise.
Polly’s words replay, and it fuels me to go even harder. The fact that the word whore even came out of her pretty mouth is enough to make me see red. It gives me a reason to do this instead of drink. Gives me purpose for the first time in a really long time, in more than a professional capacity.
Nobody knows how low I’ve gone. How deep I’ve let myself sink. How bad it truly got. It’s bad enough that I’m weak in private; there’s no way I’d let anybody see me at the worst.
Aside from my parents, I’ve already let one girl down. My selfishness and apprehension cost Sophia her life. When I was left alone after she was gone, I couldn’t care less about what happened to me. Hell, I wanted to go with her. I prayed to switch places with her and cursed a God I’d stopped believing in a long time ago that he’d show me mercy and just end it.
Part of me, whatever was left, died with Sophia that night. And until Polly ran into me outside Complexity, I never thought I’d get it back. Didn’t think I deserved to get it back. But one look at her, one touch, and I knew I was given a second, a third chance I didn’t earn.
My lungs burn, so I slow to a stop and get a drink from the water fountain. After catching my breath for a moment, I walk back to the bag and continue taking out my frustration.
The alarm I set earlier on my phone goes off, and I take a few minutes to cool down before I hop in the shower and change. On my way out the door, I eat a protein bar I grabbed from my locker and then leave to go get Polly. I made sure to check the closing time when I dropped her off today.
It’s not too far of a drive but long enough to give me time to think. To realize how deep she already is. To know that something happened to her in the past that’s made her feel like people, men, only want to use her, is devastating. It’s infuriating. Even if I set aside the fact that I really, truly care for her… as a man, I wouldn’t be able to live with myself knowing she was alone and I hadn’t done everything in my power to make sure she was safe.
So even though she’s trying to push me away, I’ll give her the space she wants while offering the security she needs until she realizes I’m not going anywhere.
I wouldn’t put it past her to try to sneak out the back or something, so I park and go inside the restaurant. When I get inside, one man is sitting in the corner sipping coffee. Polly is on the other side filling a napkin holder.
She walks over to me and crosses her arms. “What are you doing here?”
“Giving you a ride home.”
“I don’t need one.”
I shake my head
. “I’ll wait.”
As I walk over to an open table, she grabs my arm. “Erik.” I pause, and she rounds me. “Please. I really don’t need a ride. I can walk. It’s not far, and I don’t want—”
“All due respect, babe, but I don’t care what you want. I’m here, which means you’re not alone, so get used to it.”
She squints her eyes at me, which does little to hide the confusion in them, then huffs and storms away. Before I sit down, I glance over at the man drinking coffee. He stands and with his cane and wobbles over to me. “Erik Anderson?”
I shake his hand. “Yes, sir.”
“Well, I’ll be. I’m Reginald, old friend of your grandparents. Knew your daddy when he was a boy, too. Terrible how he passed.” He places a shaky hand on the table and sits down. “I haven’t seen you since your grandma went to be with the Lord.”
Hearing the words from a complete stranger reminds me just how alone I am. My grandma passed shortly after I moved in with them and then my grandpa followed a few short years later. He was a grumpy old man who was miserable without his wife and hated me living with him. He didn’t actually kick me out and I wasn’t technically homeless, but I might as well have been. So after Grandma died, I essentially lived at Smith and Sophia’s house. His parents took me in whenever I wanted to stay and joked that I was the son they always wanted.
My throat burns as I swallow, but I try to steer the conversation in a direction I can at least manage to discuss. “How did you know her?” I ask, as I sit across from him.
“Ah, I used to work with your granddaddy a long time ago.”
“Hmm.” I tap my thumb on the table to distract me from the pit forming in my stomach. In any other situation, I’d leave to avoid talking about my past. I’d drink until I couldn’t function enough to remember. I’d take a protection job that would keep me too busy to think about anything else. But if I do any of those, I won’t be able to look out for Polly. That thought alone is enough to shift thoughts from my usual crutch to something else.
“How’ve you been?”
“Good.”
He pulls a handkerchief out of the front pocket of his flannel and wipes his nose. “What are you doing for work these days? Surprised to see you in town. Thought you’d be takin’ after your fath—”
And now’s about the time I’ve gotta save myself. Part of the reason I come here is to avoid the stigma of my parents. Most people don’t recognize me since I didn’t grow up here. “It’s been nice chatting, but I’ve gotta take off, sir.” Just as I get up, Polly emerges from the back room.
I push the door open a little harder than I intended and cross the lot to my car. With a hand on the hood, I lose the battle to hold up my head, and it falls forward. The air coming in through my nose feels like I’m sucking it through a straw, and with every breath, it gets harder and harder to breathe.
I can’t remember the last time someone other than my subconscious brought them up.
“Erik?” Polly’s hand touches my back, and as she rubs small circles on it, my airway opens, and I finally get a lungful of air. It burns as I suck it in, but the pain takes away from the blood red that was starting to blur my vision. When I finally open my eyes, the blur is clearing. The heat from her fingers warms the ice in my veins, bringing me fully back to reality.
My neck twitches before I straighten out. “You ready?” I ask her while digging for my keys.
“Are you okay?” The concern in her voice makes me want to confess the truth. Makes me want to bare myself to her and let her take it all away… but it’s my weight to carry, my mistakes to live with. My pain to endure.
“Let’s go.” I unlock the doors, and she wordlessly walks around and gets in her side as I do mine. Without a fight, thankfully. Once we’re both in and buckled, I steer my Camaro in the direction of her apartment.
“You know you can talk to me, right?” She breaks the silence, but I don’t answer. If I do, I’m not sure what I would say. Too much, probably. Enough to make her realize she’d be better off without me.
Timing is on my side because I pull up to her apartment and get out before she can say anything else. Probably sensing the tension rolling off me, she remains quiet as we walk to her door. I follow her inside, and after checking the locks on her windows, I go to the front door. “Lock this after me. I’ll take you to the diner tomorrow.” She nods, and I close the door behind me, avoiding her eyes the whole time. It’s enough to know she’s disappointed in me; I’m not sure I could handle seeing it on her face.
When I get back outside, movement to my right catches my eye, and I change directions. Instead of going toward the parking lot, I turn around the corner and about half a block down is a familiar man. The hairs on the back of my neck stand, and I wait until he’s out of sight before heading back up to Polly’s. She locked the door behind me, so I knock and impatiently wait for her to answer, which she does right away.
“What’s wrong?”
“Pack a bag. You’re staying with me.”
I don’t give her a chance to answer as I walk back into her place.
“Why would I do that?” She closes the door and leans against it. “You’re acting strange.”
“Please.” I pull out a chair in the kitchen and sit then squeeze the bridge of my nose. “Just come stay the night with me.”
“Why?”
“Because that guy who was in the parking lot last night is here again, and I don’t want something to happen to you.”
“I live downtown, Erik. A lot of people linger around.”
“Do they always say shit to you like he did when I was with you?” At her hesitation, I know my answer. “Dammit, Polly,” I snap. “Sorry. I swear, I just want to know you’re safe tonight, okay? I can’t in good conscience leave you alone right now. If you don’t want to come with me, then I’ll just crash here. But I have a guest room you can stay in since I’m sure you don’t want to be with me, and I actually have food in my fridge.” I manage a half smile.
“You’re really worried about him… about me?”
“Yes, I really am.”
With no hesitation, she answers. “Then okay. I’ll pack a bag.”
She makes quick work of it, and in less than five minutes, we’re back in my car and headed to my place. I’m grateful she doesn’t ask any more questions, and so fucking relieved she trusts me enough to do this for her.
The thing about someone who has a shitty past or something they don’t want to share with the world is that they understand. And maybe that’s why I’m so drawn to her in the first place. I see the pain and the fear in her. And she probably sees it in me, too. So she gets it. She understands.
Once I turn down my street, she sits up and looks around. “This is very… domestic. I didn’t think you’d live in suburbia.”
I smirk and continue driving then pull into my driveway. I am in suburbia, but there’s an odd comfort about it that I never thought I’d like.
The garage door rises, and after pulling in, we exit the car. I grab her bag from the trunk and hit the code on the keypad. “It’s two-eight-one-zero-seven.”
“Umm, okay.”
“What is it?”
“Two-eight-seven-one-seven?” She bites her lip, and I shake my head.
“Two-eight-one-zero-seven.”
“Two-eight-one-zero-seven.”
I nod. “Good. Don’t forget it.”
She follows me inside, and I head up the stairs right away. I point at the door on the left. “You can use that bathroom. Towels and all that shit are in the cabinet. Your room is here.” Directly opposite the bathroom, I walk into the spare bedroom. I want to give her the option of being in her own space even though it’s the last thing I want. I don’t know why I have an extra room, but I wish I didn’t so she’d be forced to sleep in my room. After tossing her bag on the floor, I step back into the hallway and point down the hall. “That’s my room. You’re more than welcome to sleep with me, but I understand if you’d rathe
r be alone.” Turning around, we go back down to the kitchen and I grab a frozen lasagna and stick it in the oven.
“That should be done in about an hour and twenty minutes. Make yourself at home. TV, movies, food, booze, whatever.” I get one foot on the steps when she grabs my arm.
“What happened at the diner with that man?”
I pause and turn to her. God, I’m a fool. For so many different reasons. I don’t deserve someone as sweet as she is. Even though she tries to give me attitude, I see the soft side beneath her shell. I can’t offer her anything more than my body… whether it be for pleasure or protection, I really don’t care. But more than that, I’m not allowed the luxury of being happy again. I ruined my happy, and I don’t deserve another chance at one. It doesn’t matter how much I wish I could have it with her. How much I’d love for things to be different.
She, however, doesn’t deserve for me to treat her like this. Short or non-answers to her question aren’t cool. She should be loved and treasured—something I’m just not capable of, no matter how badly I want to be. I’m acting like a dick, but I’m not used to someone asking the tough questions because I’ve done so well at hiding the answers.
But Polly, she’s different. She’s an unanswered prayer. She’s better… so much better than I am. She deserves better. So I give her the answer she deserves to hear. “He knew my grandparents, and it brought up old shit.”
“I’m sorry. It’s always tough when that happens. Someone says something, and it’s like everything you’ve been trying to hide jumps out and attacks you with little machetes.”
“Yeah. Exactly like that.” Like a million tiny cuts slicing away at every depth.
She shifts on her feet and takes my other hand in hers. “I don’t know what’s going on with us.”
“Me either.”
“I said it yesterday, and I’ll say it again. We’re not good for each other.”
I reach up to cup her face with one of my hands. She’s good for me, but I’m no good for her. “I know.”