Page 21 of Wreckage and Rain

By the time I reach the bedroom, I almost believe him.

By the time he falls asleep beside me, I almost believe myself.

I’m almost asleep when Colt rolls onto his back and makes a sound.

Not a word at first. Just something loose and shapeless, the kind of noise people make when they’re too far under to know they’re making it.

Then his mouth forms a name.

“Cheyenne.”

My eyes open.

He’s flat on his back, one arm above his head, mouth parted. Completely asleep.

There’s nothing for him to manage now. No deal. No Calloway. No wife beside him whose face he has to read. He isn’t choosing his words or deciding what to keep hidden.

And still, somehow, he finds her.

There were years when he found me.

He would reach across the bed in his sleep and pull me against him without waking. His hand would settle on my stomach or his face would press into the back of my neck, his body looking for mine before his mind knew it was lonely.

That used to be my place.

Now I lie beside him and listen to him breathe while another woman’s name hangs in the dark between us.

She’s made it somewhere I can’t follow. Into the part of him that doesn’t think before it speaks. The part that used to reach for me without being asked.

He doesn’t even know he brought her to bed with us.

I turn toward the wall and pull the blanket up to my chin.

I don’t cry.

I don’t wake him just to watch the panic cross his face before he reaches for an explanation. I already know what he’ll say.

It was only a dream.

It doesn’t mean anything.

Maybe it doesn’t.

But somewhere inside me, something I have kept open for Colt through every missed dinner, every unanswered message, every night he came home carrying pieces of a life that no longer included me, finally closes.

Quietly.

No slammed door. No breaking glass.

Just the soft click of a lock sliding into place.

I’m not going to tell him what he said.

But I will never forget it.

Chapter 4: What We Built

Colt