Chapter 32
. . .
He was gone. Forever.
Heath dragged his weary carcass from the bed and listened for movement before daring to creep into the bathroom. Hollow and dehydrated, he was a disheveled husk of doubt and misery, but no matter what, he knew he must stand on principle.
It was quiet outside his door; the coast appeared clear, until he stepped into the hall and found a small obstacle course waiting for him.
Couch cushions and pillows formed uneven terrain, but a cushy landing space. Evan had propped unbreakable trinkets in unstable places so they’d make noise if knocked to the floor. If he’d gone sleepwalking, he wouldn’t have gotten far.
How he had any tears left, he didn’t know, but they welled and streamed down his cheeks at the thoughtful, creative little warning bells intended to keep him safe.
Damn that man. Damn his beautiful face and romantic heart. His wit, his brilliance, and his deeply hidden softness. Damn him for being exactly the person Heath had always hoped to find, trapped in a world he had no business and no desire to join.
Did he say thank you or read him the riot act?
Turned out Evan had made the decision for him. He found the bedroom door open, the bed made, and all traces of its occupant gone.
“He went ahead just before sunrise. Had a private plane waiting,” Marta explained with deeply apologetic eyes when he’d entered the lobby with his bags.
“Oh. Of course. I should have known.”
He left the front desk in a daze, not caring if Marta and Gracie knew the truth. It didn’t matter, because he’d never see them again.
“Heath? Honey, are you okay?”
Isabella appeared on the path as though summoned by the call of his sadness. He looked at her and shook his head, dissolving into tears before she’d even gotten close enough to wrap her arms around him.
“This is the right choice.” It was more a question than a statement. “It was the only choice, Iz.”
She nodded and petted his hair back from his forehead. “I know, honey, but you’re still allowed to be sad about it.”
“That’s good, because I’m pretty fucking devastated.”
They sat together on the patio, watching the birds diving for their breakfast as a light breeze carried the scent of liana fragante across the stones. Heath sipped his tea while Isabella alternated between her cappuccino and an orange and berry scone.
“These are delicious. You should have one.”
“I’m not hungry, but thank you.”
“I’ll have Chef make you a care package to take with you. Spare you the airport food.”
More tears threatened as he nodded and hid behind his teacup.
“Good morning, my dears!” Olivia strolled up to their table and helped herself to a seat. “Are you all packed and ready?”
He nodded again, feeling the dam begin to crack.
Isabella made a noise, and the two women exchanged a variety of looks until Olivia cleared her throat and quietly settled into her coffee without another word. Nate approached a moment later, turning on his heel and disappearing into the main house at the silent warning stare they hit him with.
“How many of your ancestors were burned as witches?” Heath quipped, attempting to smother his distress with humor.
Isabella laughed while Liv gave him a serene, knowing smile. “All of them, dear.”
Juan strode up to the table wearing a broad smile and, obviously immune to the telepathic powers, clapped his hands together and boomed, “Well then, are you ready to depart?”
Right. It was time to go. Vacation was officially over.
“Yes, let me get my—”
“All taken care of, don’t you worry. Got the boat loaded up and we’re ready when you are.”
“Oh. Um, good. Well then, I guess let’s go.”
He stood, and Isabella pulled him into a bone-crushing hug. “You had better stay in touch. I know where to find you if you try to hide from me.”
“Are you this threatening with all your friends?”
“No, just the ones I want to keep.”
He hugged her back, wrestling his emotions as a sniffle slipped free.
“I expect to hear from you as well.” Olivia’s embrace was less suffocating, but no less warm.
Nate reappeared, observing the tension had lessened, and offered a firm handshake into a very manly and emotionally secure one-armed side hug. “Time to set sail?”
He felt pathetic asking, but he had to know. “You truly want me to contact you?”
It would be death by embarrassment if he reached out, only to learn they’d been sending his messages to voicemail or having their assistants respond.
Isabella’s frown returned. “Of course. Why would I threaten you if I didn’t want to hear from you?”
“Oh, well. It’s just…”
Olivia cupped his face in her hands. “Heath, you’re lovely, and we’d greatly enjoy staying in touch. We’re not in the Boston area often, but when we are, I’d love to catch up over dinner.”
Dammit, there went the tears again.
He blubbered and sniffled his way through another round of hugs, wailing slightly louder when Nate used both arms. He’d only known these people for two weeks. How did they feel so much like family after such a short time?
The same way Evan had broken his heart. With kindness and generosity, and zero expectation he be anything but who he was.
“Have a safe trip home, honey. Let us know you got back safe.”
It was tradition on the island to mark your departure with the casting of hibiscus petals into the water as you pulled away from the dock. It was a promise to return, and Heath felt disingenuous letting them fly from his fingertips into the boat’s wake.
He could live a million years and likely never afford another trip back here on his own. But maybe the universe would sense his hope that Isabella and the Spencers would be true to their word, and he’d see them again.
Juan clapped him on the back with brutal affection as they exited the van back at the airport. “Safe travels, Mr. Lennox.”
“Thank you. You’ve all been tremendous.”
He checked his bag and settled at the gate, staring through the window at the little plane waiting on the tarmac.
Two weeks ago, he’d been ready to throttle Evan on that plane, spoiled, womanizing jerk that he was.
It didn’t matter that he was attractive, because he’d decided he was clearly a terrible person, and entirely unworthy of his time.
God, what he’d give to have that moment back. To experience these two weeks one more time.
“You look miserable. Tan, but miserable. Tell me you didn’t stick to your vow of having no fun.”
He should have said no. When he’d turned his phone back on and immediately received a call from Manuel, he should have declined his offer of a ride back from the airport and spent the money on a rideshare.
Or a bus. Hell, walking would be preferable to socializing when he’d had barely a moment to process the cyclone of feelings rampaging through him.
“I’m just tired,” he assured his friend, closing his eyes and resting back against the seat for emphasis.
Hannah had not been on the return flight, and thank God, because he couldn’t see a way he’d be capable of answering any Evan-related questions without falling to pieces. Which would have been awkward.
Davrin, however, had been on the flight. Davrin, with his gossip’s smile and light brown eyes.
He’d turned on the charm the moment he’d sat down, and spent the entire flight laying a thick carpet of intimation that he’d be willing to provide a phone number were he asked for it.
Heath of two weeks ago might have asked him. Well, he’d certainly have felt flattered and possibly thought about it without ever asking, because he had absolutely no game. New Heath, however, was merely polite and casually flirty, because his heart wasn’t in it.
He could easily picture Davrin sharing their table at Spin, but not as his partner. Despite being very handsome and friendly and filled with hilarious stories of his travels, Davrin was not who he wanted. Evan was. And it would be a long damn time before he got past the disappointment of that.
“I’m sorry about letting the conversation get out of hand before. I feel bad.”
Heath opened an eye and rolled it in his direction. “Just you?”
Manuel responded with his uncomfortable laugh. “You know how Andres is.”
Yes, he was a cunt. Heath was well aware.
“I haven’t decided if I’m forgiving either of you, but apology appreciated.”
“It’s all out of love, you know that, right? We want to see you happy, and these guys you’ve been with haven’t deserved you.”
Damn Manuel and his sweet, supportive tone. “I also appreciate that, but I’m the one who makes that decision, not you two.”
He sighed, but nodded. “Of course. We know that, but it’s difficult to see you putting yourself into these situations where you end up hurt. We just want to spare you the heartache.”
“I know, but you’re trying to circumvent it entirely, and that’s not how life works. For all you know, my soulmate could appear as the world’s biggest piece of shit, only to be unmasked as a tender romantic with a broken heart of his own that needs mending.”
Manuel’s eyebrows pinched together as he cast a sidelong glance. “That is… very specific.”
“Poetic, Manny. The word you’re looking for is poetic.”
He cleared his throat and focused back on the road. “Right. Sure. Oh! So what ended up happening with that guy and the attendant?”
Heath dug his fingernails into his palms and turned toward the window so Manuel wouldn’t see his glassy eyes. “Didn’t work out. No chemistry.”
“Seriously? After the way you talked it up, I thought for sure there would be more gossip.”
“Welp, turns out I was wrong.”
Can’t you feel it when you have chemistry with someone?
“Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Yes, I’m just tired, I swear.” So goddamn tired.
Twenty additional minutes passed with Manuel filling him in on work, his husband, and Chloe (“Seriously, Heath. It was only one rock, and she was a baby!”).
He then moved on to Andres and his love entourage.
Lovetourage? It was all very standard goings-on.
Just another couple of weeks in their lives.
“You haven’t talked about your vacation at all.”
“You haven’t let me get a word in.”
Manuel huffed. “You’ve never let my rambling stop you from butting in. Be honest with me, Heath. Did something happen? You seem even less happy than when you left.”
It had been a minute since he’d looked in the mirror. If that was true, it would be a long while before he did so again, because he’d looked positively wretched before leaving for the trip.
Christian running off without a word had seemed the final nail in the coffin of his hope.
He’d intended to give up entirely on ever having that special connection with someone.
Amazing how easily he’d forgotten to be despondent once Evan had entered the picture.
An auspicious start, most definitely, but even in the throes of catty bickering and snap judgements, Evan had effortlessly taken his focus away from being sad about Christian.
“You’re not even kind of listening, are you?”
“What? God, I’m sorry. I’m a little distracted. I never got that grading done, so I have a lot to do this weekend.”
“That’s all it is?”
“That’s all.”
Manuel patted his thigh. “Don’t fret. You’re the most resilient of us. You’ll find a way through, like you always do.”