Page 61 of Silent Is The Heart

“I went to your funeral, Jason! I…” My voice cracks. Liquid heat fills my eyes as I grip two handfuls of his lapels, trying to grasp onto some sense of relief from him not suffering what I thought he had. “I thought you died,” I warble, unable to hold my head up any longer.

His arms wrap around me again, pulling me against his chest as I fall apart, lost in a sea of gratitude, confusion, self-pity, and an odd sense of betrayal. I don’t know which feeling to cling to. Making soothing sounds, he rubs my back. It’s the type of comfort I wanted from himbeforehe died and shortly after. Right now, it feels like being held by someone on a blind date whose face I haven’t seen yet.

Drawing back, his hands clamp onto my shoulders and give me a gentle shake. “Hey. It’s okay. I’m here now. I told you; everything will be fine now. We’re safe.”

Safe?

It’s one more word out of his mouth that doesn’t make sense. Each week since he’d ‘died’ became a new week of trepidation over my future existence. The unexplained bills. Trying to find out how and where I would live. I haven’t felt safe in a long time. At least, not until… Easton.

Oh, God. Easton…

Can I not see him anymore? Should I even be thinking about that? I’mstillmarried. I’m amarried man…again.

A new wave of nausea crashes into me. And then another for feeling nauseous over being married. Am I a horrible person?

Staggering to my feet, I sidle out from between the coffee table and couch. The need for air and space seems tantamount.

“I had to sell the house,” I blurt, nonsensically. He’s done all the talking so far and likely has no clue about all the things that have happened since he…left. “There were bills. All kinds of bills. Things I had no clue about,” I explain, trying to sound more informative than accusatory. “You didn’t leave any notes. I even had to sell the cars. That’s why I moved back here, but creditors still keep calling. Your mom said…” I stop in my tracks, remembering all the unpleasant calls from Grace. It’s one ray of light in this discovery—that Jason is finally here to explain everything to her. “Wait. Does your mother know?”

“My mother?” he parrots, rising from the floor. “Do you think my mother would approve of a scandal like that?”

I’m not sure if he’s referring to these criminals who tried to blackmail him or him faking his own death, but either way, he’s right. Grace Reider holds her public image highly, making me feel foolish for even asking.

I nod, dumbly trying to take an odd sense of pride in the fact I’m the only one he’s appeared to have trusted with the knowledge, even if the information is coming well overdue. I honestly didn’t know he held me with more regard than her in the trust department, sometimes feeling like a third wheel in his relationship with his mother.

I find him in front of me suddenly and realize I’ve just been standing here, staring at the floor, and biting my thumbnail. “Come on,” he soothes, turning me toward my room. “Don’t worry about any of this anymore. I have a plan, but for now, let’s just go to bed. It’s been a long day. We can talk more tomorrow.”

As my feet move obligatorily from years of following his lead, I stare at my bed through the doorway in horror. The sheets are still rumpled from Easton and me last night. I slept next to Jason for eight years, but the thought of lying next to the man I married right now makes my throat constrict. It feels like it would be a desecration of one of the places I relate to the greatest joy of my life. It’s heartbreaking and treacherous all at once. My legs stop moving and he bumps into me.

“I…I can’t.”

“You’re tired. I can see it in your face,” he soothes, rubbing the back of my neck over my stiff muscles. “I haven’t had much sleep myself lately. Why don’t we just crawl into bed and hold each other? Remember how we used to do that?” He smiles, his voice going soft.

I do remember… in the beginning. Years ago. Shortly after we moved to Seattle, though, it was all work, work, work. He’d often come home late and silently move my arm or hand out of the way if I’d drape it over him like it was disturbing his pose or comfort. Even after sex… he wasn’t much for holding each other… not the way Easton does. It always made me feel pathetically needy and yet left a chasm of disconnect between us.

“Yeah,” I laugh breathlessly and try to smile. “But…I’d rather not.”

“What?” He laughs like I’m joking.

Glancing at the bed and then back at him, I try not to squirm under his gaze. “I…it…it’s just a little strange. It’s a lot to process.”

His eyes study me for what feels like an eternity. Can he see through to my soul? Hear the moans I’ve let out in that bed? The laughter with another man?

I wanted to be what he wanted for so long, and yet it feels like if I walk into that room with him, my life will never be as wonderful as it has been of late. Maybe that makes me a terrible husband. Maybe I was never a good one to begin with.

Straightening, he nods, looking resigned. Stroking my cheek, his smile seems forced, but he leans in and pecks me on the lips. It’s a kiss, causing a little flicker inside me because it’s a kiss, but it’s just skin-to-skin. It’s an action with no reaction, leaving me further floundering about why I’m not overjoyed that he’s returned.

“All right. Yeah. I’ll give you some time. We’ll talk soon. Okay?”

He turns back toward the couch and picks up his gym bag. The amount of relief coursing through me that he appears to be leaving is shameful.

“Where are you staying?” I ask. It’s such an odd question to voice. “Do you…have somewhere to stay?”

Buttoning his coat, he flashes me a smile and a wink, motioning with his head to the front exterior wall. “Nearby.”

What does ‘nearby’ mean? How long has he been here, I wonder? And still… whynow,after almost two years? I have so many questions that I no longer feel guilty for asking him not to stay. I do need to process. With any luck, I’ll wake up tomorrow in Easton’s arms and this will all have been a horrible nightmare… even if that makes me a horrible husband.

CHAPTER 30

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