The Problem with Peace (Greenstone Security 3)

But he had Polly.

And she’d get him through.

In little ways like waking up at three in the morning to an empty bed.

He pushed out of bed and found Polly doing yoga in the moonlight.

Yeah, she was healing. She didn’t think she would be the same, she didn’t think she could be fixed. But the fact she was here, awake, not willing to give in her life to sleep anymore, it meant a little piece slotted back into place.

She came up from a forward fold—he was learning the terms because it was important to Polly and he didn’t give a fuck if that made him a pussy—and caught his eyes. She didn’t jump in surprise, she smiled, openly and warmly.

His heart clenched in his chest.

A broken piece inside him slotted into place with that smile.

“Couldn’t sleep, and it’s a full moon,” she said, looking out the window. “It’s a shame to waste it.”

Only Polly would think that not getting up in the middle of the night to do yoga and charge her crystals—he saw them on the windowsill, and knew she did this every month—would be wasting a full moon.

She was back.

He crossed the room and yanked her into his arms.

“Does it count as wasting the full moon if I fuck you in front of the window?” he rasped.

Her eyes flared with hunger. “No,” she breathed. “No, it doesn’t.”

So he did just that.

* * *

Polly

Two Days Later

“I think it’s time I called my parents,” I said sipping my tea, and perving at Heath as he got ready for work.

He froze, looking up from his belt.

“I’m not telling them everything,” I said quickly. “Or even half. I just…can’t. I’m not putting that on them.”

“This isn’t about putting it on them,” he said immediately. “This is about you doing whatever you need to heal. You needa stop worryin’ how that process is gonna hurt others. Because it won’t. Only way it does is if someone who adores you—list is long with me at the top—thought you were hurting yourself to save them. Don’t know your parents, but know the kind of women they’ve raised, so I know they will be of that opinion.”

I blinked at Heath’s words. I wondered if I’d ever get used to the way he spoke. His beautiful honesty. And his ugly honesty too. All mixed up together.

“I know that,” I said. “I know that it’d hurt them more if they found out I’d been keeping things from them. But, sometimes there are things you have to keep from your parents. This is one of those things.”

Your ex-husband kidnapping you, raping you and then selling you to human traffickers was definitely a thing to keep from your parents.

Heath watched me for a long time, testing the truth in my words.

He nodded once and crossed the room to snatch me into a kiss. “I trust you, babe. Trust that you know yourself well enough to make that decision. Not gonna make you change it. But I’m gonna make sure you know I’m here when you call them. When they come. Because my place is at your side. It has been since you were eighteen years old. Now I’m here, I’m not going anywhere. Sooner your parents, and you, realize that, the better.”

Tears ran down my face.

“You trust me?” I repeated.

He frowned. “Of course I fuckin’ trust you. I love you. With everything I am. Fucking adore you. You might deal with shit different than anyone else, you might deal with life different than anyone else, but that doesn’t mean it’s wrong.” He kissed me. “Means it’s the only thing that’s right in this fucked up world. You’re the only thing that’s right.”

More tears trailed down my face.

“I love you,” I murmured.

“Good, ‘cause I plan on growing old with you, it helps if you love me,” he said dryly.

A strangled giggle merged with my sob.

I was able to do that more and more now.

Laugh.

And Heath was able to tease me.

I’d thought that was lost.

But we just needed to find each other first.

I toyed with his belt and his body went instantly taut.

“You really need to go to work…now?” I asked sweetly.

I squealed as he yanked me into his arms. “No fucking way do I need to go anywhere but inside your pussy,” he growled.

And he did.

Twice.

Chapter Twenty-One

I called my parents later that morning.

Much later.

My hand was shaking as I dialed, but I was sitting in Heath’s lap, borrowing some of his strength.

I managed to dial.

To speak when they answered.

The second I’d gotten the words—the lies and half-truths about that day almost two months ago—out of my mouth, my parents were getting ready to get in the car.

They arrived hours later.

Mom was still wearing her slippers.

She full on sprinted at me in the parking lot of my apartment building. I collapsed in her arms. We both would’ve collapsed if Dad hadn’t caught us both.