Fleeting Moments(25)

He sits on the side of the bed. “Every f*cking minute of every f*cking day.”

“How do you just move on?”

He exhales slowly. “I haven’t had much of a chance to stop and think.”

“I’m grateful,” I say, looking up at him through my lashes. “So damned grateful I was sitting next to you.”

He gives me a lopsided smile. “Me too, Lucy girl.”

I smile.

His eyes drop to my lips again. His body goes tense, and he abruptly stands. “Going to borrow the shower, yeah?”

“Yeah,” I say softly, my heart pounding.

“All right,” he says, equally as softly.

He disappears into the shower and I watch the door for a few long minutes before staring down at my hands. I don’t feel guilty, but I should. My husband left, and I have no shame over the fact that there is another man in my room. Of course, I’m not doing anything with him, but the fact of the matter is I’m attracted to him and there’s no denying that. I can pretend I’m not, but I am. More than I care to admit.

That scares the hell out of me.

Is my attraction simply a reaction to what happened? Am I risking everything, only to wake one day and realize I have nothing left? No family. No home. Nothing. My heart seems so sure of itself right now, and things between Gerard and I have been spiraling downwards since the attack, but it was so good before that. Surely feelings can’t just change so quickly.

I do still love Gerard.

I just don’t love him in the way I did before the violence changed our lives. Is that purely because something inside me changed? Probably. He doesn’t deserve to hurt while I try to re-discover myself again. Still, the idea of waking up one day and having all this be just a stage I went through, and to find myself without everything I wanted so badly only a month ago, frightens me.

If I let Gerard go now, I’m letting him go. For good. No matter if I wake up one day and realize that was a mistake.

I have to stick to my choice.

The door opens, and my eyes flick in that direction. Heath walks out, a towel wrapped around his waist, his big body on display. My mouth drops open, and I don’t even try to attempt to close it. He’s beautiful. Scarily so. His body is big, which I already knew, but his muscles are so well defined they move when he does, as if they’re perfectly in sync, a beautiful dance. His big chest narrows down to a lean waist that disappears beneath the towel. He’s got tattoos all over him, stunning designs that obviously tell a story. I want to ask him how it ends.

“I’m just going to grab my bag.” He nods in the direction of a bag by the door. I didn’t realize he had one.

I flush and nod, looking down at my hands.

He walks towards the door and I peek up at him again, and I have to stifle my gasp. One hand flies over my mouth and tears burn under my eyelids as I stare at his back. There are scars on his skin, raised, angry-looking scars that crisscross over his body. They’re not new; they’re already a silvery color. What in the hell happened to give him such ugly scars? Who would do such a thing?

Stop overthinking it, Lucy. He was probably in an accident.

“Don’t ask,” he growls and my eyes find his as he turns to face me. “Don’t ever ask.”

I nod, swallowing the lump in my throat.

He holds my eyes for a long moment, then disappears back into the bathroom.

What the hell have I gotten myself into?

Worse, what has he gotten himself into?





CHAPTER 10


“What happened with your husband?” Heath asks, long after he’s finished showering and the awkward silence between us has faded.

I stand from the bed and join him on the sofa, sitting an arm’s length away from him. That seems like the right thing to do. “He struggled, partially because of me, partially because of his own guilt.”

“Wasn’t your fault,” he mutters.

“No, but I was so desperate to find you and the more they told me that you didn’t exist, the harder it got for me. I stopped and actually wondered if maybe they were right—maybe I was losing my mind. Then something would happen, and I couldn’t believe that I was crazy so I pushed harder, trying to get them to understand. He told me I was losing it, wanted me to get help. He gave me a choice—I either got help or he was going to leave.”

“And you let him leave.”

My heart twists and I nod, swallowing back my tears. “I let him leave, but I’d already made the choice to end it. It just turned out we were on the same page. Not because I wanted to prove a point, but because he wasn’t behaving like the husband I knew. He just wanted it all to go away; he didn’t know how to handle it, and he just wanted me to stop hurting. He’s always been a little like that. When things are good, he’s happy, but if things go bad, he struggles.”

“He should have had your back.”

I look away and a tear sneaks out and rolls down my cheek. “Yeah, he should have. But he chose not to. He found it all too hard. I wasn’t exactly easy, though.”

“You weren’t meant to be—you were the one hurting. Do you think part of his problem was because he wasn’t there when he should have been?”

I nod, still looking away. “His job has been the most important thing in his life for a long time. When we found out I was pregnant, I thought that would change but it didn’t. His job was always going to come first, and I think for the first time in his life, he had to suffer the consequences of that.”