And the last time he had no idea where she was, he’d found her broken, battered and half fucking dead in the back of a truck.
“We’ve got a tracker on her phone,” Luke continued. “Lance was closest. He’s got eyes on her.” He paused. “She’s okay. Physically.”
Rosie stopped pacing. “It’s happened?” she whispered. “It’s finally hit her.”
Luke nodded once, face tight, bracing for his woman’s pain.
“It’s hit her,” he agreed.
Heath was halfway out the door.
Because shit wasn’t hitting Polly. Not without hitting him too.
Polly
I wasn’t one hundred percent sure how I got here.
I had left the meeting, feeling empty and full at the same time. Like I’d released something but also like I was stretched so tight I was going to snap.
I must’ve left early, because Heath wasn’t waiting.
And Heath was always right on time.
I also must’ve texted him, because I didn’t want him to worry. That was the last thing I needed. On autopilot, I’d told him Rosie had picked me up for an impromptu taco run.
He’d responded immediately.
And he hadn’t been surprised.
Because Rosie was kind of wildly obsessed with tacos at this stage in her pregnancy.
I was impressed my fractured mind was able to conjure such a watertight excuse. I must’ve spent all my excess brain power since I couldn’t think of anything else to do. So I started walking.
I was only wearing sandals so it wasn’t exactly comfortable after the first two miles. But that was good. I liked the discomfort. After another two miles, some of the skin was opening up on my feet and blisters were forming. That was better than good. Tearing on the outside was great, so I didn’t feel like I was going insane just tearing on the inside.
I wasn’t counting the miles, or the hours, or even the pain.
I was just walking.
The only reason I knew that I’d walked almost nine miles was because I got to the park. I’d mapped the distance from Atwater to Wildwood Canyon when one of my friends was training for a marathon. So I knew how far it was. I’d unwittingly followed the trail I used to run with her. Not because I was training for the marathon, or because I particularly liked running. She needed the company. The motivation.
And I’d always liked the destination.
This park.
It was pretty late by now, the sun kissing the horizon, bathing the city in a warm glow that made it look like it was magical. That down there, it wasn’t full of pain and lost dreams.
I liked that.
“Ma’am, you okay?” a kind and scratchy voice asked from above me.
I realized I’d sat down at some point, on the slightly damp grass.
The man who’d spoken had tangled hair and an unkempt beard. His clothes were dirty, and his shoes had holes. He was holding a paper bag with a bottle top peeking out.
He had kind eyes.
I smiled. “Yeah, I’m okay.”
He frowned. “You don’t look it.”
“I know,” I agreed.
He paused for a beat longer. “You shouldn’t be out here too late, pretty and troubled lady like you,” he said. Then he pointed to a copse of trees. “I’ll be over there, watching out, make sure no more trouble comes to you.”
And then he wandered off.
It was nice to think someone was watching out for me.
Even if all the trouble had already come and gone.
“Sunshine?” an urgent voice called into the ever-creeping darkness.
“Heath?” I replied immediately.
“Fuck,” he hissed as he emerged from a curve in the hill. He was on me in two strides. I was in his arms, the warmth surrounding me, showing me just how cold I’d gotten.
Not from the ever-retreating sunlight.
No, from the memories I’d finally let in.
Heath’s arms squeezed me tight enough to make my bones protest. I didn’t say anything, because the pain in my feet had retreated, so I needed the pain of his embrace to make myself feel real. He kissed my head, rocking me slowly in his arms before he released me enough to look at me, to take stock.
I knew he was looking for injuries.
I hated myself a little bit for making him have to do that. For putting the worry and fear on his face.
“I’m not hurt,” I said.
He paused for a moment, then he pressed his lips to mine. “Yeah, baby, you are. And it’s okay to hurt. To show you’re hurt. I can handle it,” he promised.
“I just felt like walking,” I whispered against his mouth. “And then, maybe I thought why don’t I just keep walking for a little while. Maybe get a little lost. Because maybe I might find myself again.”
He stood, and gathered me into his arms. “Let’s get you home,” he said.
I glimpsed up at him through my tears. “I am home. I’m sorry that it’s taken me so long to realize that. That I’ve been fighting it because I loved you so much I didn’t want you to have the pain of loving me. I’m sorry I disappeared again because I couldn’t realize it without doing something so utterly Polly-like like walking ten miles in Birkenstocks.”
Heath smiled. “The only thing I care about is my wild, beautiful, strong woman is back. That she’s mine,” he said as he began to walk back to the parking lot.
“Wait!” I cried out.
Heath stopped immediately.
“Put me down,” I ordered.
“No way in hell.”
“Okay, well take me over there,” I gestured to the copse in the trees.
To his credit, Heath didn’t even ask questions, because he knew me.
The man was still there, sitting slightly straighter when Heath pushed through the small shelter to reveal his home. There was a littering of candy wrappers, empty bottles, tattered blankets. A pillow. Newspapers.
Heath stiffened at the man.
The man stiffened back, then his eyes went kind as he focused on me.
“See someone found you that’s gonna help you with your trouble,” he said, voice throaty.
Heath relaxed slightly. Even he could hear the kindness in the man’s slightly slurred words.
I moved so I could retrieve my phone which was now dead. “Heath, give me your charger,” I demanded.
I knew he carried a portable one everywhere. Not for him, because his phone was always fully charged, but for me.
He sighed and jostled me effortlessly to retrieve it.
I kissed his bearded cheek and then stretched my arms out, with both the phone and the charger in it.
The man in front of me just stared at them.
Another thing that showed me his heart. He didn’t snatch. He just looked at what I was extending with confusion, as if no one had offered him something before.
“Take it,” I said softly.
He bent down to put down his bottle, then straightened, taking the items gently from my hands.
I smiled. “Now, it’s not charged, because it’s my phone and I keep forgetting to do that. But my man always has a charger.” I nodded to the second item in his hands. “So you can charge it with that. And then you can call a man called Heath.” I nodded my head. “That’s Heath.”