Page 56 of Ride By Your Side

Every joint in my body feels like it’s filled with molten lead as I sink into my desk chair, my face falling into my hands.

When the bell rings at the front of my shop, I let out a new groan, for an entirely different reason. I know I want and need the work to avoid a particularly perky little brunette, but I’m not sure I have it in me right now to put on a fake-ass grin and help someone new. I’m running on fumes as it is.

“I’m coming,” I croak, my voice raspy and weak as I struggle to push myself up from the chair, but before I can fully stand Veronica walks into my office. “What are you doing here?” I ask, worry creasing my brow. “Is everything okay?”

“No, things aren’t okay,” she says, her hands landing on her hips. “And I think it’s me who should be asking you that question. You haven’t been home in days. Or, I don’t know, you must have come home at some point since Bubba’s food and water bowl always seem to be filled, but apparently, it’s only when I’m not around. So what the hell is going on? Did my vagina really scare you away?”

I sigh. “Vee—” I start, lifting a hand, but she interrupts before I can say more.

“Don’t ‘Vee’ me. I know what you’re doing, but what I really want to know is, why?”

I close my eyes, trying to gather my thoughts, not wanting to make this worse, but it’s as if my brain has flipped the switch to ‘off,’ refusing to put together a clear sentence. “I just... I don’t want things to be weird between us.”

She rolls her eyes. “Too late for that. Things are already weird between us, but what you’re doing is only making it weirder. Yes, I know I was the one who pushed for this,” she says, pointing at me before back at herself, “but I wouldn’t have suggested we do anything if I knew this was how it would end up. If this is any indicator of how it’s going to be from here on out, I’d rather just move out now and salvage what I can.”

“No, that’s not what I want. I don’t want you to leave or move out,” I argue weakly, taking a step toward her as she stays where she is, her hands firmly planted on her hips.

“Why? Clearly, you’re avoiding going home, and I know it’s because of me. I’m not okay with that, and neither is Bubba. He misses you. Hell,Imiss you,” she pleads, her eyes softening.

“I miss you too,” I admit. I probably shouldn’t be saying that out loud, especially when I’m still so terrified of becoming even more attached, but in my current state of exhaustion, it’s too hard to lie or say anything else. “I just...” I try again, but my foggy brain continues to work against me. Instead, I shake my head and let out a much-needed, centering breath.

“What’s wrong?” she asks, her brows furrowing as she drops her hands and takes a step forward.

“I’m just tired.” I mumble, not wanting her to worry.

“I’m not surprised. Have you even gotten any sleep these past few days?” she asks, her tone pointed yet concerned. And she’s not wrong—she knows I’ve been sneaking in long after she’s gone to bed and heading out before she wakes up. If I were smart, I would’ve set up a cot in my office given the amount of time I’ve been spending here.

“I’ve gotten a few hours each night,” I offer, attempting to find some relief as I lean back and put most of my weight against my desk.

This doesn’t stop her from worrying, as her eyes take me in appraisingly before she finally steps forward and reaches out to touch my forehead.

“What are you doing?” I snap, swatting at her hand, but given how weak I feel, the effort is wasted.

“Miles Bennett,” she curses, not stopping her movement as she dodges my swat and places her hand on my forehead. “You’re burning up!”

I move my head away from her touch, even though the movement is dizzying. “I’m fine. I think I’ve just overworked myself. All I need is a good night’s sleep, and I’ll be as good as new.”

“This is more than just overworking yourself. You have a fever,” she insists, her hand falling to rest on my cheek. “You’re sick. So what’s happening now is that you’re going home and getting straight into bed.”

With what little energy I can muster, I raise an eyebrow. “You really think that’s going to work and that I’m going to listen to you?”

She tilts her head upward and lets out a small huff. “As a matter of fact, I do.”

“Okay, and what if I decide I’m not going to listen?” I challenge.

“I’m not even going to answer that, because I’m not taking no for an answer. It’s already been decided—you’re coming home with me right now. End of story.”

I wish I could say I had some fight left in me, if only to tease her, but I just don’t. On top of that, lying down sounds heavenly.

“Fine, I’ll head home soon, but I have one more job to finish before I can close up,” I explain, trying not to let the mere idea of working overwhelm me.

She shakes her head. “No, sorry. That’s not happening. I’ll call Sam, have him finish the job, and he’ll close up. As for you, you’re done for the night, and maybe even for the next day or two as well.”

I attempt to raise an eyebrow. “I’m not sure who you think you are—” I start to say, but she doesn’t let me get very far.

“I know exactly who I am. I’m your wife, and your wife says you’re going home and getting into bed, and that’s final.”

I’m not one to give up easily. I’m usually all about fighting the good fight. But damn, hearing her say those words doessomething to me. I know I shouldn’t let her get under my skin, especially since, deep down I’m fully aware it’s not real, at least not really. Still, no matter how hard I try to keep my guard up, she keeps finding new ways to get in.

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