When he entered Polly’s hospital room, Maggie was perched on the edge of the bed, and the two women were laughing.
Seeing Polly smile felt like a gut punch, but the good kind. The kind that knocked the breath out of him, allowing in some fresh air.
He closed the distance between them, and Polly leaned sideways into his chest.
“Ready to go home?” he asked.
“Definitely. And ready to see Saint. She’s probably hungry.”
He groaned. “And angry.”
She chuckled.
Yeah, another gut punch.
Twenty minutes later, they were in the car. The entire drive home, Joel had to force his gaze to remain on the road when all he really wanted to do was look at her. There’d been moments when he’d wondered if he’d see her again. Now he just wantedto stare at her. Memorize every part of her. Remind himself that she was here, alive and safe.
When they reached his house, he climbed out of the truck and reached her side before she’d even opened the door. He helped her out.
Inside, Saint appeared out of seemingly nowhere and rubbed against his leg.
Polly lowered. “Sorry, girl, we’re very late, aren’t we?”
The cat purred.
“I probably stink.” Polly kissed her head. “I really need a shower.”
He gave the cat’s head a rub before helping Polly straighten and leading her into the bedroom. But before he could step into the bathroom, she turned and pressed a hand to his chest. “You need to feed Saint.”
“No. I need to help you shower.”
“I’m okay. Your cat is not. She’s hungry.”
“Polly—”
“Go.”
He growled. “Fine. But I’ll be right back.”
In the kitchen, he grabbed the cat food and put it into the bowl on the floor. Saint made that thank-God-because-I-was-starving purr. “Yeah, yeah, you were hungry. I know.”
He hadn’t eaten, but he wasn’t hungry. He wouldn’t be able to stomach food right now.
When he returned to the bathroom, he stripped and opened the shower door.
Polly turned, and he growled at the scratches and bruises on her skin. They were scattered across her fair shoulders, chest, and arms, covering her.
“I wish I’d killed him.” He stepped into the stall and closed the glass door behind him. “I wish he was dead.”
“Trust me, rotting in a jail cell for the rest of his life will be just as bad, if not worse.” She leaned her head against his chest. “And he’ll hate that I’m alive and living my best life with you.”
He tightened his arms around her before kissing the top of her head. “Thank God you’re okay. I don’t know what I’d do if I’d been too late.” He didn’t even want to think about it.
“Thank God,” she whispered.
Then they just stood there. He wasn’t sure for how long. Steam began to billow in the room and his fingers wrinkled. But he still couldn’t move.
Polly was alive and she was his, and he was going to spend the rest of his life making sure it stayed that way.
