I can’t stand to hear this story. I wish to God this were just a tale, not the life she was living when I thought she was happy. Not touching her is becoming unbearable. I reach over and grab her hand before she is able to pull it away, rubbing my thumb over her soft skin and looking into her eyes. As hard as it is for me to hear, it can’t be easy to retell.
“I don’t even know what to say right now, Princess. I . . . I just don’t know. It kills me to know you had to live with any abuse for a second, but years . . . Izzy, I have never wished harder that I would have been there.” Before I even finish speaking, she wrenches her hand away and scoots to the other side of my bed.
“No . . . you do not call me that, Axel. And we are not going there. I’ve explained my marriage, but I will not go there with you. Leave it in the past, please.” Her raw desperation is the only thing that keeps me from fighting her on this. We will be talking about that, but I’m smart enough to know she will shut down if I force her now.
“All right, Izzy, I got you. Explain the package to me. Greg told me what it was, but I don’t get how it matches the story you told me. Did you have . . . kids?” The cost my control takes to get that out with a neutral tone is high. The thought of another man touching her is enough, but to think of another man planting his seed in her body—unimaginable.
She was mine.
She is mine.
She will always fucking be mine.
I can see the walls coming up instantly; she is blocking me out and masking her emotions perfectly. I have no idea what made her shut down this time. I could stick a metal rod up her ass and she still wouldn’t be as stiff as she is right now.
“We couldn’t have children,” she says quickly and quietly. “That’s all that was—a reminder that I couldn’t give him children.”
Done. That statement is said in such a way that I know there will be no talking about that in detail. I’ll give her that play. I don’t know many women who aren’t a little upset about not being able to have children, and deep down, I can admit the world without a chance of more Izzy in it is a dull place.
“That was the first time he contacted you?” I ask in an attempt to change the subject, making a mental note to ask Greg for more detail later.
“Not at first. I think he had a hard time finding me. I just recently started working, so he would have had to look for Dee to find me. There have been some calls, but nothing bad. Not until the package.”
There’s something I’m missing. I can’t ignore the feeling that there is a big part of this picture missing. This asshole has been pretty silent and distant for so long. With the exception of the divorce hold-up, he hasn’t been making waves. Something is off, but I can tell she isn’t going to open up much more. I check the time and see that it is creeping up on dawn, just cementing the fact that we are done for the night.
“We need to sit down with Greg and the boys. I need to check out the system in your house and then you need to tell me how you want this to go. But that can all wait for tomorrow. It’s late and I’m sure your earlier brush with adventure isn’t exactly keeping you wide awake. I’ll grab some clothes. You can use the bathroom then sleep. We can call the guys over in the morning.”
Her eyes are wide—wide and shocked. “I’m not sleeping here. You can take me home or I can have someone come get me. You wanted to talk and we talked. Now I want to leave.”
Throwing my head back and laughing was probably not the wisest move, but she must be out of her fucking mind if she thinks I am going to let her out of my sight before I can nail down a solid plan. She doesn’t know it yet, but we are about to become the best of friends.
“Not fighting about this shit. It’s late and I’m sure anyone you would call has already gone to bed. One night isn’t going to fucking kill you, babe. This bed might as well have the Gulf in the middle of it. I’ll stay on my side. Tomorrow we will figure this out and get this mess straightened out. Don’t piss me off. Take the clothes. Go get fucking cleaned up and sleep.” I walk over to the dresser and yank out a tee and some briefs, tossing them over to her, hitting her right in her stunned face. That seems to knock her out of whatever has her all tied up. With a huff and a whole lot of sass, she stomps over to my bathroom and slams the door.
I feel the strings of the years of hating her slowly start to loosen.
I can’t ignore the desire to make her mine. It is still there, but I can’t forget that she left and forgot about me pretty damn easily. I will take care of this problem and then—then—we will take care of us. We have enough to deal with right now; figuring out everything else can wait. I just can’t decide if I want to figure us out for closure or to bring us back together. Only time will tell; one thing at a time.
I step out of the room, pull my phone out of my pocket, and dial up Greg. One ring and that fucker answers like he has been waiting. I’m not sure what to take from their relationship, but I am not happy with how close they seem.
“Is she okay?” he asks, and fuck me, he sounds wrecked.