Page 32 of Sinful Reality

Stunned, his eyes swing toward the hall. “Today?”

“No, dickhead.” Years ago. But hell, I couldn’t even say when. “In the past.” I turn to the things she left on the counter and pick up her phone, dead from the sheer number of calls she ignored this afternoon. From the bleats of her texts and emails. From her complete refusal to acknowledge anyone else in the world except her and her shovel. Shaking my head, I plug it into the charger and drag mine out of my pocket next.

The pipes knock and rattle in the walls as she flips the shower on, hot water working its way up four flights. But I ignore her. I try to set aside the knowledge she’s in there right now, naked and alone. Worse, freezing and heading toward complete fucking dissociation and what may eventually lead her to setting us on fire.

Are we already on fire?

Am I supposed to be the foam that puts us out, or the gasoline that makes our pain burn hotter?

“I don’t even know what’s happening.” Placing my hands on the edge of the counter, I bend and stretch my shoulders, extending my back and focusing onanythingexcept my fraying temper. “I think we’re fighting because she didn’t tell me she’d slept with Gilbert. But we haven’t actually argued about it yet. She tuned Aubs up because Aubs snitched to me, and then she spent the better part of eighteen hours digging through human remains in the rain. Now she’s…” I draw a deep breath and hold it in, expanding my lungs and testing my regulatory system. “Now she’s in there, mad at me, maybe. And I’m mad at her. Maybe. I don’t fucking know, and I’m too tired to figure it out.”

“She lied to you about the dude?” Pushing up from the couch and crossing the living area, he comes around to lean against the counter, his long build casting shadows in my peripherals. “Did she lie?”

“No. She just…” I inhale again. “She didn’t volunteer the information.”

“Should she have?”

“I don’t know!” I shove away from the counter, if only to get space,and unbutton my shirt. I’m freezing, too, and the fabric sticks to my skin like it was stapled on. “Are we supposed to declare every person we’ve ever known? Is it lying if we’re not writing a list and having it notarized before the wedding vows?”

“No.” He folds his arms and crosses one ankle over the other. “I don’t even know all of mine to make a list. I doubt you know all yours.”

“Makes us disgusting.” I peel my shirt off and drop it to the floor, the fabric landing with a wet slap. “I know she had a life before me. But she’s on the phone with this dude, and he’s not even hitting on her or anything. But Aubree spilled the beans, so now it feels like Mayet and I are fighting, even if, technically, we’re not. She’s allowed to not tell me everything, especially if it happened before us and has nothing to do with our future.”

“So…” He brings a hand up and rolls his bottom lip between his fingers. “Remind me what the issue is?”

“I don’t fucking know!” I unsnap my jeans and push the zipper down. “It’s all twisted up and tense, and I guess she’s mad at me, too, and I’m not sure I know why. So now we’re both angry about shit completely irrelevant to who we are. This motherfucker has stepped into my marriage and put a wedge where there never used to be one, and she’s in that bathroom blue. She’s fucking blue!” I choke out my words and hope they release the coiling dread that squeezes my heart. “She could barely walk up the stairs, Cato. Because she was weak. The only reason she didn’t crawl was because I was right there, and she was too stubborn to die while I watched.”

“I know I joked about divorce and all that…” He steps around until our eyes meet. “But there is no world if there’s no Minka and Archer. It’s not Minka and that dude. Or Minka and Cato. Or Minka, cold and alone and sad while you’re close enough to fucking fix it.” His fiery gaze shifts to the hall, then back to me. “So fix it.”

“Fixwhat? She hasn’t said a damn word to me since her spat with Aubree. She’s not telling me why she’s mad, and I’m not even entirely sure that I’m mad. I just know this fucking hurts, and I don’t know how to make it better.”

“Yes, you do.” He starts back to the couch. “It’s three in the morning, Malone, and you know exactly what you need to do. You’re the onlyperson on the planet who knows her heart. Figure that shit out before you lose the best thing you’ve got.”

“So it’s on me, then?”Why am I such an asshole?“She’s the one who withheld information, got caught out, and now she’s throwing a fit. Why’s it on me to patch that up?”

“Because you love her.” He un-mutes the television and focuses entirely on that. “If you love, then you love always. Not just when you’re in a good mood. And if you can’t do that, then you didn’t deserve her in the first place.”

“For fuck’s sake.” I bend and scoop up my wet clothes, moving into the hall and kicking my shoes off as I go. I peel my socks away and bundle those with my shirt. I should probably knock. Give her privacy. She’s notjustmy wife. She’s a whole, independent woman, too, who deserves to be in the bathroom without an audience. But I shove the door open anyway, only to be slammed with a wall of steam that almost knocks me on my ass. Anger roars in my veins as I toss my things to the floor and open my mouth to spit out hurtful words, but as the steam clears and my eyes adjust, I find her curled on the floor instead, bundled into the corner of the shower with her legs folded and her arms wrapped around them.

Still, she shivers. Tears stream from her eyes, and blue lips quiver in the silence. She’s shattered—body, heart, and soul—so whatever shitty retort I came in here with dies before it’s given life.

“Baby.” I kick the bathroom door shut and hurry into the shower, jeans on, and scoop her into my arms. “You’re still cold.”

“I’m sorry for not telling you about Pax.” Weak, she crawls into my lap and burrows in tight, sobbing against my chest. “It wasn’t supposed to be a huge thing, and he’s not important. He’s nobody.”

“I trust you.” I press my back to the wall and pull her closer, crushing her in my arms and holding on tight because her entire body shivers with a violence I’ve never experienced before. A vicious tremor I’m not sure she’ll ever escape. “I trust you, Minka. You could sleep in the same fuckin’ apartment as that dude, same room, and I’d trust you. I wouldn’t like it.” I feather a gentle kiss to her temple. “And I’d want to pull you out and set the apartment on fire. But I won’t question your integrity.”

“The way you looked at me…” She sobs, vibrating with the cold and groaning because I know it hurts her. “My dad used to look at my mom like that. Because he knew what she did, but he was too selfless to send her away. She cheated, Archer. But I didn’t cheat?—”

“I know.” Another kiss. “I know you didn’t cheat.”

“And I didn’t even lie,” she whimpers. “I just… I didn’t want to bring that into our home, and it was so long ago, and it wasn’t important. So I didn’t?—”

“It’s okay.”

“He’s just a guy,” she cries. “There was no love. There wasn’t even a relationship. It was just two human beings who sometimes spent time together and?—”

“Please, God,” I choke out, almost managing a laugh and rubbing her thigh, if only to give her more warmth. “Don’t spell it out for me. I’m begging you not to put that picture in my head. You had a past, and now it’s done.”

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