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.”