Total pages in book: 139
Estimated words: 137119 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 686(@200wpm)___ 548(@250wpm)___ 457(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 137119 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 686(@200wpm)___ 548(@250wpm)___ 457(@300wpm)
But there was no explosion.
Nothing.
I swallowed glass.
“I’m back,” I agreed, my voice low, more than a squeak. I tried a smile, a Polly smile. That’s what I did, after all, I smiled at people. Even the man I’d loved and run from—twice—the man looking at me like I was a stranger on the street.
Yes, I tried to smile at him because the only other option was sinking to my knees and falling apart right here in the modern offices of Greenstone Security, in front of the receptionist and my brother in law who had just appeared behind Heath, his face tight and fists at his sides.
I knew Keltan was worried. He was protective by nature. And I was a damsel by nature. But I would not be responsible for him feeling like he had to come to my aid by creating conflict with a friend. So I smiled, tearing my eyes from Heath and settling on the safer gaze of my brother in law.
But I feared my smile was something more than a grimace.
I wondered if I ever might smile again.
Like magnets, my eyes were drawn to Heath’s once more.
I clutched onto that stupid, oh so very old Polly-like shred of hope I’d been carrying around like the tattered remains of a child’s security blanket.
It was the hope that there would be something there, some spark to hold onto, to feed me...something, despite the fact I didn’t deserve it. Rage. Disappointment. Anything to hold onto.
But there was nothing.
The hope was a moth-eaten scrap of fabric, clutched too tight and crumbling in my hands.
Heath nodded once. “Good. I hope you had a nice trip.”
And then he strode forward.
Toward me.
I held my breath as he gave me a wide berth—not wide enough since his scent, his very presence assaulted me with his nearness—and then strode out the door.
Like left.
I stayed there, frozen, unblinking.
I must’ve been breathing because I was upright and people that weren’t breathing tended to be horizontal.
I couldn’t believe we went through all of that, everything in the past, just to be strangers again.
That was the biggest tragedy of heartbreak.
When someone was your everything.
And then they were nothing.
He wasn’t nothing to me, of course.
But I was obviously nothing to him.
And I couldn’t blame him.
Not one bit.
There was only so much two people could go through before you had to call it, before someone had to back out, walk away. There was only so much two hearts could take. He was making the right decision turning us into strangers at worst, acquaintances at best.
There was pressure at my elbow.
“Polly?”
I focused on the source of the masculine concern.
Keltan was regarding me with pinched brows and a hard jaw. His eyes were soft, though. Because he was kind. And good. And he loved my sister more than anything on this planet and he took me as his little sister and did what everyone else did with me—handled me with a version of kid gloves, otherwise known as ‘Polly gloves.’
I straightened. “I’m okay,” I said.
I wondered who I was talking to, him or myself.
His eyes narrowed. “Didn’t ask you if you’re okay,” he said, voice warm and low.
I blinked. “Oh.”
“I know you’re not okay so askin’ would be a stupid question,” he continued. “I don’t ask stupid questions.”
I paused, momentarily surprised at how astute the hulking New Zealander was. Then again, he was married to one of the most emotionally complex—some would say crippled—women on the planet, otherwise known as my sister, so he had to be on his game.
Also, it felt like I was bleeding from a thousand tiny wounds and I wasn’t adept at hiding such pain and he was ex-military so he knew pain. He also had a tumultuous courtship with my sister, which ended in her bleeding out in his arms.
So yes, he knew pain.
And it was obviously painted on my face. It was certainly etched into my bones.
“Yes, you’re not stupid,” I said.
But I am, was what I left unsaid.
He frowned as if he could read my mind.
I paused. As Rosie had said the night before, I didn’t completely discredit the ability for the right person in touch with the right energies to be able to tap into someone’s thoughts, but I didn’t think the muscled and tattooed man in front of me would’ve been able to do so.
Because if he did, I reasoned that his courtship with Lucy would’ve gone a lot smoother.
“I’m going to ask a question that’s not stupid,” he said, moving, still holding me by the elbow so I was moving alongside him too.
I let myself be directed farther into the offices that smelled faintly of lemon and mostly of Heath.
“Non-stupid questions are good,” I murmured, my words distant from me as if they were coming from underwater.
I idly wondered if I was having a mental breakdown. I shouldn’t have been surprised. My family likely wouldn’t be either. They probably had brochures for all sorts of places ‘just in case.’ I hoped they were by the ocean. Or on a ranch. That would be nice.