Savannah doesn’t turn to look at me. She just walks silently across the room and climbs into bed.
Something that sounds an awful lot like my conscience whispers in the back of my mind. But I’ve gotten really good at blocking him out, so I let the warning slip away, unheeded.
I wait, standing in the open doorway, hoping that she’ll rail at me again. Try to run. Scream. Anything.
But she just curls up on her side, facing away from me, not even bothering with the blankets.
My tongue runs along the front of my teeth, the memory of her kiss too fucking recent. The feeling of her soft body under mine still too fresh in my mind.
But this Savannah, this defeated version, she makes my chest ache.
And when her shoulders shudder, I cross the room.
I want to get into bed with her. Wrap her back in my arms. Give her my warmth.
But as dumb as I am, I’m not dumb enough to think that’s what she wants. So instead, I grab the comforter from its bunched-up place at the foot of the bed and drag it up over her body.
She doesn’t react.
There are so many things I want to say.
This is more for your protection than it is for mine.
It won’t be that bad.
I’ll be a decent husband.
You can still have a good life here.
But I know she won’t believe anything I say. Not right now.
So instead of voicing my promises, I turn away from our bed, and walk out of the room. Leaving the door ajar behind me.
