The Other Man

Her pretty mouth twisted.  “I can’t say.  I’m sorry for being so vague.  And I’m telling you all of this because I know he’ll be just as vague.  More so.  I think he cares about you, and I just hope that, in spite of all of that and all of his other issues, you’ll give him a shot.”

I opened my mouth, to say what, I haven’t a clue, when the doorbell rang.

Iris cursed.  “He figured it out faster than I thought he would.”

“Figured out what?”

“That I came here.  You see, he left you earlier to look for me.”

“He told me he left for work.”

“That’s actually not a lie.”

I was more confused than ever.  I moved to answer the door.

“Don’t tell Heath about the pregnancy thing I mentioned earlier,” she said quietly behind me.  “He’d freak.”

No way would I ever be telling the volatile Heath that his too young to drink sister might be pregnant.

Not a chance in hell.

When I opened the door, Heath didn’t even address me, instead headed straight for his sister, who was hovering in the doorway to the kitchen.

“I’ve been out looking for you,” he barked at her.  “I can’t believe you pulled this again, and for what?”

“I wanted to meet Lourdes.”

His hand went up to pinch the bridge of his nose, as though relieving pressure.

His other hand was clutching a bouquet of roses.

He’d brought me flowers.

“Do you know what you’ve done?” he asked, addressing Iris.

“No, Heath,” she said, clearly distressed.  “No.  Please.  I’m sorry. No.  No one followed me, I swear.  Nothing’s been compromised here.”

He looked back and forth between the two of us.  “She’s scared of me,” he told me.  “My own sister is frightened of me.”

“Not of you,” she said, voice thick with tears.  “For you.  And I’m worried more than scared.”

“Mason is coming to pick you up now.”

“Okay, fine.  I’ll go back and I won’t do this again, but promise me this didn’t ruin things for you.”

“How can I promise that?”  His tone was biting.  “It was bad enough that I couldn’t stop coming here.  Now, well, you know what happens now.”

Iris was openly crying at this point.  She gave me an imploring look.  “I’m sorry.  I swear I wasn’t followed.  I swear.  I was so careful.”

I was baffled by it all, but I could tell something bad had just happened.

“What’s going on, Heath?” I asked him.

He shut his eyes tight, taking a deep breath.  “I wish I could tell you.  Iris needs to go.”

“She could stay for dinner,” I offered.  I didn’t know her well at all, but it was distressing to me to see her crying like that.  To watch her go from so joyful to so genuinely despairing.  I wanted to help.

“She can’t,” he said dully.  “I can’t now, either.”

“I’m sorry,” Iris said again, but I couldn’t tell which one of us she was talking to.

“Oh,” I said, wanting to do something batty like wring my hands I was so damned confused.  “You aren’t staying for dinner, either?” I asked him.  I thought for certain he was planning to come back for the night.

“Not now, I can’t.  Excuse me.  Mason’s here.  I’m just going to walk Iris out.”

That’s when he handed me the flowers he’d brought me.  I murmured a thank you.

I didn’t ask who Mason was or even walk them out.  I just stared at the door, my mind racing, trying to make sense of their interaction.  It was clear I was in the dark about whatever was going on.

I was still staring at the door when Heath came striding back in.  He slammed it shut and came directly to me.

He set the flowers I was clutching on a table, pulled me into his chest, his arms like steel around me, offering hard comfort.  For a moment, I felt like everything was going to be okay.  He lulled me into thinking that, his lips tender at my temple.

And still comforting me, still giving me false hope with his strong body, he murmured, “I have to leave.  Not for a little while, but for a very long time.  We have only minutes left together.”

“How long is a very long time?” I murmured into his chest.

“I wish I knew.”

“I don’t suppose you’re going to explain that scene back there with your sister to me.”

“I wish I could.  If I had a choice, if it were up to me, I wouldn’t be leaving, I promise you that.”

For what it was worth, I believed him.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

And then he was gone, and I had no idea if I’d ever see him again.

The first day after he left time passed like it was rolling through tar.

The second day was worse.

The third the same.

There was no word.  Not a note.  Not a phone call.  Nothing.

He was gone, had been gone for days, then weeks, but he’d left his mark in every single inch he’d occupied.

But even with that mark of his ever present, the man himself—gone.

I longed.  For his touch.  For just the sight of him.  For the sound of his voice.