Duke circles around, twice, before curling up at Savannah’s side.
I should go.
My hand grips the doorframe as I sway.
It’s been five nights. Five nights sleeping in another room. Five nights of drinking. Five nights of feeling like absolute shit.
Because I miss her.
Because I crave her company as much as I crave her.
Duke keeps his head up, staring at me. Like close the door, dickhead.
This has become our routine. When it gets dark out, I bring Duke to the room. Keeping him in here, with her, until the sun rises again. And while he gets comfortable, I stand here, wanting to go to my wife, but not sure how.
And then, when this part is done, and I leave, I drown my sorrows. Only every day it takes more to numb the pain.
Savannah shifts under the covers, and I step back, out of the room. Pulling the door quietly closed as I go, before she can see me.
In the hall, I take a second to just breathe.
But it doesn’t help.
So I do what I always do, I walk away from my sleeping wife and head down to my office.
I won’t sleep. Not for a while yet, so I might as well work.
I’m sitting down at my desk when my phone rings.
I debate for a moment not answering, but hit accept anyway, putting it on speaker so I can use both hands to pour some whiskey into a glass.
“Since I’m hoping you wouldn’t answer a call mid-stream, I’m going to assume you’re drinking.” Nero’s voice projects into the room.
“Such a detective,” I reply, swallowing a mouthful.
“Let me guess”––before Nero even starts, I know it’s time for a new best friend––“You’re over there, beating yourself up over what happened. And instead of facing the facts head on and getting the fuck over it, you’re being a drunk dumbass.” He makes a humming sound. “I’m also guessing you’re pulling some weird martyr shit and sleeping on the couch.”
“I hate you.”
Nero huffs, “So, I’m right.”
“I’m sleeping in a guestroom.” I correct him, like that makes it any better.
“You do realize you’re doing it all wrong.”
“Oh, do I?” I snap.
“Well, I wouldn’t entrust my life to a fucking moron, so yeah, I think you do realize.”
“Thanks,” I deadpan.
“Seriously, what the fuck are you doing? Quit falling on your nonexistent sword, and just tell your wife you love her. It’s not that scary.”
Love. He had to fucking say the word.
I tip back the glass, downing the rest of the booze.
I know I love her. Because I’m not a fucking moron.
I’ve loved her for a while.
I think I started falling in love with her when she kicked me in the balls while I was kidnapping her.
But I also know… “I don’t deserve her.”
Nero laughs. Like the bastard he is, he laughs. “No shit you don’t deserve her. King, she’s a woman. We don’t deserve any of them.”
“Exactly.”
“But that doesn’t stop us from keeping them.” Nero believes this statement with his whole heart.
“I can’t just keep her!” As soon as the words are out of my mouth, I know they’re a lie.
“Of course you can. And you will.”
I pour another glass of whiskey, but just stare at it.
“Don’t you ever feel bad about dragging Payton into the dark side of life?” I ask Nero the question that’s been burning through my heart.
“No.”
I wait for further explanation, but Nero doesn’t expand. “No?”
“No,” he repeats. “She belongs with me. And I live in the dark. So that’s where she belongs too.”
“But…” That’s just his crazy talking. Right?
“Also…” I swear I can see the smug look on his stupid face when he starts with that tone. “That wife of yours let you fuck her in front of a dead man, so don’t pretend like you’re ripping the wings off an angel.”
“He wasn’t dead yet,” I grumble.
“Good argument,” Nero deadpans. “Now be fucking straight with me. What’s the actual problem?”
“That’s not enough of a problem?”
“You were there.” He reminds me. “You were there when my wife got kidnapped and held at gunpoint because of me. I know what it feels like to fail the person you love. But what I don’t understand is why you’re getting drunk and sleeping alone. After what happened to Payton, you couldn’t pry me from her side.”
“You still can’t,” I grumble.
“King.” Nero says my name like he knows I’m hiding something.
I drop my head, the shame of it all weighing me down. “She flinched away from me.”
And Goddamn, does that hurt to say out loud.
“When?”
“When she first woke up…” I take a breath, reliving the moment for the hundredth time. “She was rolling over at the base of the stairs, and I reached for her. Because I didn’t think she should move. And she flinched.”
“What does that mean?”
“She’s scared of me!” I shout the admission.
Nero is silent for a second, “She’s not scared of you.”
“How could you possibly know that?”
“Easy,” he replies. “Savannah is your match.”
My match.
Heavy emotion wraps around my heart.
If only that were true.
“And I mean,” Nero continues, “I’m sure there’s all sorts of other weird shit you guys do that I don’t want to know about.”
“Fuck off.” I reach out and end the call.
