Page 13 of Ravaged With You

I shift, subtly dislodging his touch.

The detective is watching me. “You seem to care now.”

I nod. “It was … frustrating … that he wouldn’t agree to the divorce. That he kept blowing off signing the papers. And it pissed me off that he was stalling while he was sleeping with someone else. Who does that?”

I hate that my anger is so close to the surface, especially now with my emotions all confused and tangled. Anger, sadness, confusion, betrayal. I don’t know what to think or feel. And apparently I’m just going to feel everything, and all at the same time, and hope I don’t sound like this is all about me. Because no matter how angry he made me, Mel is dead, and he didn’t deserve that.

I draw a breath, trying to rein in my emotions. “The bottom line is that we’d drifted apart, Detective. Couples do. But—but I still love him, just not like that. And I don’t understand why he’d—”

I can’t talk anymore through the tears clogging my throat. I wipe my eyes and my nose. Whatever dam I’d put up to hold back the waterworks has broken, and I bend over sobbing, my shoulders shaking as Red gently rubs my back.

“It’s possible he saw this lover as an escape route,” Detective Amaro says. “If she wasn’t interested in more than that, he may have felt disconnected. Unrooted. Depending on his mental state, that could have led him to believe he had no other option. I’ve seen this before.”

I nod; what she says makes sense, even if I hate every word of it. After a moment, I run my hand under my nose. “Wasn’t Jessn here? He would have been on shift, right?” I look to Red.

He shakes his head. “Mel told him to go home.”

“But— I—” I close my mouth, unsure what I even want to say. “This is surreal.”

“You’re doing fine,” Red says, squeezing my hand.

“Were there other things that made you believe he was having an affair?”

I swallow, feeling the walls closing in around me. Was this never going to end? “I—yes. Little things. But Detective, I already feel shitty enough that he killed himself. And I—it’s just that if he killed himself because he was upset about the divorce or his mistress blowing him off, there’s nothing I can do but feel horrible about that. And nothing personal, but right now, I just want to go home and cry. It’s not like we can ever really know why he did it, so haven’t I told you enough?”

“Unless you think this wasn’t a suicide,” Red adds, “in which case, Ms. Swift has the right to counsel before you question her.”

I gape at him. Does he actually think the cops believe I had something to do with Mel’s death?

“As I told your brother, we see nothing to suggest it wasn’t suicide. But we do like the fullest picture possible in our report.”

I draw in a breath and gird myself to dive into our emotional baggage. Red’s hand on my arm stops me.

“She’s told you plenty, and you can always ask more later. Right now, she needs time to grieve.”

For a moment, the detective says nothing. Then she inclines her head. “Of course.” Her eyes are warm and her expression genuine when she meets my eyes. “I truly am sorry.”

And with that, she heads out the door, leaving Red and me alone in Mel’s office.

“I can’t believe this is happening,” I say. I manage a smile that is probably more like a grimace. “You should have been a lawyer instead of a distiller.”

His gaze never wavers as he meets my eyes and says, “There are a lot of should haves in my life.”

I swallow and look at the floor, unable to shake the feeling that he’s talking about me. Worse, unable to avoid the horrible, guilty truth that I want him to be.

“I—Red, listen. I’m so glad you’re here, and that I don’t have to go through this alone. It was the three of us for so long. But—well, do you mind? I just need to be alone for a bit.”

“I get it.” He stands, then helps me to my feet before pulling me close for a hug. “We’ll get through this.”

I nod. We will. We have to.

“We should talk, though,” he adds, his voice lowering. “But not here. Tonight?”

I shake my head. “Not tonight. I know we need to talk. I mean, I guess I’m now the only Swift in Swift Red Distillery, right? But I can’t deal with any of that today. I just want to go home, put on a sad movie, and cry myself to sleep.”

“Jo…”

“Tomorrow?”