Page 69 of Preying Heart
“How did she get on with Lucy?”
“Lucy was willing to give her a chance. She wanted me to be happy, but she kept warning me that heroin or opiates change the brain, that it creates its own neural pathways. That it demands to be fed and that it creates the sensation of pain that is only alleviated by another dose.”
“You can’t blame yourself. You tried to keep her clean. I’m sure the rules and regulations were for her own good.”
“No, they were for me. I tried too hard to keep her shielded from relapsing. Didn’t allow her to visit the friends she’d made. Kept all alcohol away from the Fortress. Even dumped all her prescription drugs.”
“How did she escape? I suppose you didn’t allow her to leave your property without you.” A chill seizes my heart at the thought it could have been me, or maybe will be me if Heath changes his mind. He has my crypto wallet in his pocket secured with a PIN and passphrase only he knows. As far as anyone else knows, I’ve disappeared. Someone out there wants my baby, and Heath is being paid to keep me “safe” but also prisoner.
“She waited until I’d gone on a search and rescue mission. Missing women at the reservation. I left her alone with food, water, provisions, and she hiked out through the mine shaft. The same way my mother left.”
“Why’d you show it to me?”
He pinches the bridge of his nose and stares down at his lap. “Maybe I realized that I couldn’t keep you. That if you truly want to leave, you would. That no matter how much I loved you, I couldn’t make you stay.”
“You. Love. Me?” My voice wavers as blood drops deep into my gut. At the same time, my heart takes on wings and soars. “How is that possible?”
“What’s not possible is that you’d feel anything in return—other than wanting your freedom and leaving me far behind.”
I don’t know what to say. No one’s ever told me they loved me before. And as for leaving, of course, I’d want to leave when it’s safe. This man, Heath, is difficult and strange, and yet, I feel safe with him—protected. And loved?
I wonder if I’m yet again trading freedom for safety. Is it possible to have both? Or more?
“You’re not saying anything.” Heath’s voice is gritty. “That’s okay. You asked, and I gave it to you. I signed the divorce papers and filed them. That was three years ago. She’d been with me two years. We never had a child.”
My hand rests on my lower abdomen, still flat as a board. I wonder why it matters to him that they never had a child. It means he’s still in love with her and missing her.
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. I’m not sorry I helped her. I’m only sorry I might have made it worse for her. If I’d trusted her more and let her do her own thing, maybe she wouldn’t have gone back to the streets.”
“Would you take her back if she returns?” I ask the question I shouldn’t dread, but my increasing heart rate lets me know I do.
“No. Water doesn’t flow under the same bridge twice. I can’t give anyone a second chance to hurt me, and neither should you.”
He’s telling me not to return to Gavin, and I know he’s right. Still, in the middle of the night, when I wake up with my heart pounding and sweat running down my face, I wonder if I should have stayed in Seattle and tried to convince Gavin. With time, who knows if I couldn’t have won him over.
But now, the situation back home is a disaster. Someone killed Stan. Does it have anything to do with me?
Yet, here I am, lusting and caring for this new man who just told me he loves me. Have I turned the corner? Am I ready to leave my past behind?
It’s exhilarating and scary. Heath isn’t looking for an answer I can’t give, so I get up and put some distance between us. I’m teetering at the precipice, afraid to move either direction. Yet again dominated by fear.
I have to know more, and I can’t let myself be conned—even with those sweet words of love—words I’ve dreamed about but never expected.
Heath
I retire to the loft for the night. The invitation to Remi’s bed never came, and I’m emotionally drained from going over my past. Remi asked questions and grilled me, not letting up, and frankly, I have to admire her.
Either that, or she’s using twenty questions to ignore what I told her. That I love her. I don’t say these words lightly, and I wasn’t exactly hoping for a response, but it’s hard to put yourself out there and get nothing.
Still, I won’t push. I’ve learned from working with victims that the last thing they need is pushing. It’s not about me, but all about their healing and them setting the pace. If I’d have let Cindy set the pace in our relationship, maybe …
Ah, it’s no use thinking about it. My brain is foggy from the alcohol, so I lie back and fall into a deep and dreamless sleep.
At least it felt dreamless, and yet, sometime in the night, I’m aware of a warm body curled up alongside me. The temperature drops in the highlands, and without fully waking, I tuck her in my arms and cover her, keeping her warm and safe and protected.
Morning comes, and she’s still with me.
