Page 41 of Ravaged With You

I wait for him to lie to me, because I know he went to Texas. Either that, or he’d pulled his mom into the lie, too. Because I’d texted her one day, and she’d told me that he was sleeping, doped up after a medical procedure and she was playing nurse.

“Jo…” I hear the warning in his voice, but I don’t stop.

“We used to tell each other everything. Why won’t you tell me about it?”

“I did. I told you they’re the result of a particularly bad mission.”

“So you got called back in even though you’d officially left? Or was this a Texas mission code named Medical Procedure?”

“Jo, let’s drop this. We have other things to think about.”

“Not until we hear back from Mario, we don’t. Unless you’ve had some brilliant idea, we’re stuck in waiting mode. And it’s getting late. We should order Thai and talk. We haven’t really talked in a long time.”

“We can watch a movie. We can eat. We can even talk. But not about my scars. Not about my missions.” He turns to me without slowing the car. “Are we clear?”

I nod, because what choice do I have?

He goes back to driving, and we make the rest of the trip in silence.

I tell myself he’s right. It’s none of my business. But as we continue to drive in silence, I can’t deny that I truly want it to be.

Chapter Twelve

After jumping between streaming services for what felt like a decade, we finally decided on a classic marathon. We ended up drinking wine for me and fizzy water for him and eating cheese cubes while we watched Raiders of the Lost Ark followed by Back to the Future.

As far as I’m concerned, it was about as perfect as an evening can get.

It’s the after part that’s hard. This uncomfortable moment in which I find myself alone in my room with only my thoughts to keep me company. Dark thoughts about mysterious packages and my husband slipping slowly beneath the fermenting mash.

Well, shit.

For over an hour, I beg sleep to spirit me away, but to no avail, so I once again slide out of bed, then head to the guest bedroom. Although to be honest, it’s only been a guest bedroom since last night when Red slept there. For most of the last year, it had been Mel’s room. When he’d stayed at home, anyway.

Then again, all things considered, maybe it was a guest room even then.

I hesitate at the door, remembering Red’s reaction this morning, and I almost turn back. But I don’t. I stay.

I tell myself it’s only because I don’t want to be alone, but that’s a lie. The truth is that I don’t want to be alone knowing that Red is right there, just a few feet away in a room separated from mine by nothing more substantial than the guest bathroom.

What I want is him.

Not sexually—or, at least, I tell myself that’s not what I want—but simply the comfort of knowing that even though the world has turned upside down, he’s still here for me.

And that’s why I gently push open his door, then give it a quick tap. It wouldn’t be enough to wake me, but I know Red’s a light sleeper, and I see his eyes flicker in the ambient light.

“Can I sleep here?”

One eye opens, his expression bordering on a scowl. “Do you remember this morning? I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

I sigh as I lean against the doorjamb, only then noticing Romeo curled up in the armchair in the corner of the room. I smile, but my attention turns back to Red. “I wish you’d tell me why.”

He closes his eyes and is silent for so long, I start to think he’s fallen back asleep. “You’re right. We haven’t talked much. Not like before.”

I take a step forward, not sure if that’s an invitation or not, but willing to be bold. “We used to talk all the time. I’d tell you every stupid thought in my head. I even told you about the fiasco when I slept with—oh, God. I don’t even remember his name.”

“Timothy Brant.”

“You remember that?”