By the time Heath gets home that night, I’ve had a lot of time to think and process our lunch conversation, and it’s clear I need to talk to him. I need to trust him.

“Something smells good,” he says as he shrugs out of his jacket and toes off his shoes.

“It’s just spaghetti and salad. From scratch,” I add. I don’t know what makes me say that. He doesn’t care if I cooked it from scratch, and it’s not like I need to impress him. Well, except maybe I kind of still feel judged.

“What a treat. I don’t get many home-cooked meals.”

I give him a wan smile. I hate having to talk about things. And this is going to be an uncomfortable conversation. For me, at least. Best get it over with. “So, I…um…I need to talk to you about something.”

“Okay. Can we do it while we eat?”

“Sure. It’s ready. Did you want to change or eat right away?”

He looks intently at my face, then says, “Let’s go eat.”

A few minutes later, our plates are loaded and we’re sitting across from each other. “So, what’s up?”

I take a small mouthful of salad and chew slowly as I think about what I want to say. Heath gets up and grabs a beer from the fridge. “Do you want one?”

Shaking my head, I swallow my food. “No, thank you.” I consider asking if he has any vodka. God knows, I could do with some. And that’s exactly why I don’t ask.

I wait for him to sit back down before speaking.

“I’ve had some time to mull things over, and I need you to know some things about me and I’m trusting you with a secret.”

Nerves have me twirling and re-twirling spaghetti around my fork.

“Okay.”

“First of all, I’ve never touched a penny of my trust fund. Well, not until I bought that bottle of champagne. I wanted to get our parents something a little decadent, and it was beyond my budget. I’ve supported myself since I left high school. I won a few scholarships and worked to get myself through college.”

I take a bite of spaghetti and Heath continues eating in silence. I appreciate his patience, that he’s not pushing.

“I work for a non-profit organization that gets women out of abusive situations. When they call, we come running.”

“Oh wow. Okay. I didn’t see that coming.”

Nobody would. Because I’ve got everyone convinced I’m incapable of doing good works. Taking another bite of my food, I push down my irritation because it’s not helpful.

“The day of the wedding, I got called out to the home of someone I know.”

“Did you know she was in an abusive relationship?”

“No. I mean, I took an instant dislike to the guy when I met him at the wedding, but I had no idea he’d abuse her. And to be honest, I think the wedding was the last time I’d seen her. I wasn’t good at keeping in touch. If I’d had any idea at all what was going on, I’d have…I don’t know what I’d have done. But I sure as fuck wouldn’t have abandoned her.” Fuck, that was hard to confess. I swallow at the lump in my throat.

“That must have been tough.”

“It was. The guilt just sits here.” I thump my fist against the middle of my chest.

“You know it takes two to maintain a friendship. She could have reached out to you.”

“Ah, but there’s the thing. Abusers are very good at isolating their victims from their friends, even their family. So, it’s very likely she wouldn’t have reached out to me because of him. I should have known.”

“Georgia, will beating yourself up over it change anything?”

I shake my head. “No.”

“Then how about, instead of focusing on what you didn’t do, you focus on what you did? You got her out of there.”

“Yeah, I did. But I broke rules. So many rules. As soon as I realized the call-out was to someone I know, the rules say I should have withdrawn and arranged for someone else go get her. There are reasons for the rules.”

“To keep her safe.”

“Not just her.”

“Do you think he was behind the break-in?”

“That sort of thing would be beneath him…But it still feels connected. This break-in had a quality about it that seemed almost personal. I broke the rules, and I was punished.”

“I assume you’ve discussed this with your boss.”

“I’m off the rotation, and I need to lie low for a week or two.”

“That settles it, then. Regardless of when your apartment is ready, I want you to stay here until you get the all clear from work.”

I know I should protest. I’ve been an imposition, but I’m tired and I feel safe here. “Thank you.”