“That’s bullshit,” he bit off.
“So now you’re telling me how I should feel? Because that’s what it feels like, Sam, you keep stuff from me, you keep you,” I jerked a finger at him, “locked away from me. You don’t tell me what you’re doing or who you’re doing it with. That’s how it feels. Like you don’t trust me.”
“I told you, Kia, you have me and not five fuckin’ seconds ago I told you to trust that. If this gig is you tellin’ me you don’t trust that then you don’t trust me. So fuckin’ trust it.”
I shook my head. “You’re lying to yourself and you’re lying to me if you believe that. If you expect that to be okay. If you expect that from me. You can’t take it all, Sam, and give me only what you want me to have. You cannot have all of me and only give me part of you. That isn’t fair.”
His torso swung back and he crossed his arms on his chest. “So you’re sayin’ I’m lyin’ and you don’t have me.”
“Absolutely,” I shot back. “If you can stand there and tell me that the last three weeks I’ve ‘had you’,” I lifted my hands and did air quotation marks before dropping them again, “then you are absolutely lying. Something is happening. Something is wrong. And you are shutting me out.”
He clamped his mouth shut and a muscle jumped in his cheek.
I waited.
Sam didn’t speak.
God! At that very moment he was shutting me out.
I fought back tears.
Sam still didn’t speak.
So I did and when I did, I changed the subject.
“Tell me about Gordo,” I demanded, his head jerked, it was almost imperceptible but I saw it.
Then Sam spoke.
“Talk about Gordo enough with Luci, not talkin’ about him with you.”
I shook my head. “No, I don’t want to know about how Luci is processing his loss. I want to know how you are.”
“Processed it awhile ago, sweetheart. Don’t need to do that shit again.”
He was calling me sweetheart.
Damn.
“You didn’t,” I said softly.
“Got enough of Gordo buyin’ it up in my face, Kia, I do not need more. He bought it. He bought it awhile ago. It’s done. Can we please, for fuck’s sake, let it be done?”
“It isn’t done,” I returned.
“It’s done.”
“Then what was that, that night when you woke me up and made love to me?” I asked. “What was that Sam? That was far from done.”
Sam again shut his mouth and I saw his jaw clench.
He was shutting me out. And looking into his hard features and guarded eyes, I knew I was not getting in.
And that didn’t hurt. That killed.
I held his eyes and whispered, “Right.” Then I moved toward the kitchen, saying, “I’m taking Memphis for a walk.”
“Not alone,” he said to my back.
I stopped and turned to him. “What?”
“Aziz and Deaver have been released. You’re good. But at night, I do not want you walkin’ the beach alone with a King Charles spaniel. Memphis loves you but someone meant you harm, she couldn’t do shit. So at night, you’re not walkin’ the beach alone.”
“I’ll be fine,” I told him.
“Yeah, you will, seein’ as you’re not walkin’ the beach at night alone.”
I stared at him, teeth clenched, tears close. I had to get away from him and I had to do it now.
“Okay,” I said quietly. “Then I’m going to the guest bedroom and I’m spending the night there.” His jaw clenched again, his eyes flashed and I hurried on, “And do not do anything macho to piss me off, Sam. I need space and I need to be alone and you’re going to give that to me.”
Then before he could say another word or the look on his face could make me go back on what I said, I turned and ran up the stairs.
I spent the night in the guest bedroom and Sam didn’t do anything macho to piss me off. I slept alone. That was, I slept alone for the first time in ages after crying a lot and thinking a lot and neither of them did one fucking thing to help me.
The next morning, eyes still puffy, face blotchy, hair a mess, I struggled downstairs to coffee at a time when I was certain Sam would be gone.
He wasn’t.
He was in his workout clothes, leaning with hips against the counter, coffee mug in his hand.
His eyes came to me immediately and I knew at a glance he’d figured me out. Then again, the puffy eyes and blotchy face and the fact that I probably didn’t stifle all my sobs in the pillow the night before gave it away.
His face got soft, his eyes got warm and intense and his mouth said gently, “Bed’s not right, you not in it.”
“You’ve slept a lot in that bed without me, Sam, and from what you yourself told me you’ve slept with a lot of people in that bed who are not me so I’m not certain I believe you.”
His face lost its softness, his eyes their warmth but the intensity didn’t shift from me when he whispered, “Not cool, baby.”
“Maybe not cool but it’s true.”