Page 137 of Unleashed

“I’m dealing with it,” he said finally, his voice quieter now. “But it’s nothing to worry about.”

I didn’t believe him. Not entirely. But I couldn’t fight anymore tonight. I slid off the bed, gathering my clothes from the floor. “I’m leaving.”

“Morgan—”

“No, Slade. I’ll be back on Monday. We can have lunch or something, but I’m not moving back in. Not yet.”

He watched me dress, the frustration palpable in the air between us. “You’re not making this easy for me, you know. I miss my wife. I miss having you in my bed.”

I buttoned my blouse, meeting his gaze. “Soon. But we still have therapy to start. We haven’t even begun to tackle the real issues.”

He let out a heavy sigh, his shoulders slumping. “Fine. Are you sure you’re okay to get home?”

“I’ll grab a cab. Erika and Lincoln live nearby, so I’ll be fine.”

I fastened my belt, feeling his eyes on me as I finished getting dressed. "Are you still planning on that hike?" he asked, his voice softer now.

“Yes," I replied, grabbing my coat. "It helps me clear my head."

“I don’t want you to go alone. Let’s go together.”

“No,” I said firmly. “I need this for me.”

He didn’t argue, but I could see the worry etched into his expression. "At least let me put a GPS tracker on you," he said, half-joking. "So I know where you are. It’s not about control, it’s love."

I shot him a disbelieving look. “I’m not a dog, Slade.”

He smiled weakly. “No, but you’re my wife. And I need to know you’re safe.”

I sighed. “We’ll talk about it later.”

Slade walked me to the door, lingering in the dimly lit foyer. He kissed me softly on the cheek, his arm wrapped around my waist. “I wish you could stay.”

I gave him a small smile. “Small steps, Slade. We’ll get there.”

He nodded, blowing out the last of the candles as I slipped out the door. “I can agree to that,” he called after me, “but I don’t have to like it.”

CHAPTER 29

“Don’t even fucking tell me,” Erika snapped as soon as I walked through the door.

I froze mid-step. “Tell you what?”

“You’ve got that just-fucked look on your face.” Her voice dripped with accusation. “You went to him, didn’t you?”

“Went to who?” I asked, pulling off my coat and grabbing a hanger from the closet. The heat of her stare seared into the back of my head.

“Slade,” she spat. “What did he use this time? Chocolate cake?”

My shoulders tensed. Of course, she called it. I winced. “Yes, I had dinner with him, but we needed to talk.”

“Right. And fuck.” She tossed the bridal magazine she'd been flipping through onto the coffee table with a thud. “Christ, Morgan, I told you to stand strong. What about Michael?”

I kicked off my black heels and spun around to face her. “What about Michael?”

Erika’s eyes narrowed, sharp and unforgiving. “Are you stringing him along?”

“No!” I shot back, voice rising. “I would never?—”

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