Page 105 of Unholy Obsession

There was never any point in getting out of bed today, anyway.

FORTY

BANE

I waketo the feeling of something—someone—prodding my chest. Rhythmic, insistent. A warm weight is sprawled over me, curls tickling my jaw, breath puffing against my collarbone. Moira.

My wife.

The word still feels foreign, like boots I haven’t broken in yet.

But when I open my eyes and find her grinning down at me, it doesn’t feel wrong. Just… improbable. Like she’s something out of a dream I never dared to have.

“Oh my god,finally,” she drawls, draping herself across me like she belongs there. Because, apparently, she does.

My chest gets tight at the sight of her there smiling and rolling her eyes at me. “I’ve been lying here forever,bored, waiting for you to wake up. I even had a whole conversation with you in your sleep. Did you know dolphins are the ocean’s perverts?”

I exhale slowly, rubbing a hand down my face. “Good morning to you, too.”

She gasps theatrically. “Itisa good morning! Look at you! Awake and brooding and all mine.” She nuzzles against me, sighing happily. “Do you think we could get a pet goat?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Ugh, but you’d look so hot feeding a little goat in your priestly garb.Father Bane, tending to his flock?—”

I roll, pinning her under me before she can say anything else. Her laugh bubbles up, bright and untamed, as she fists her hands in my shirt like she means to keep me here forever.

And the sight of her, happy and underneath me, frees the weight that’s been suffocating me with terror lately.

Last week, she could barely get out of bed.

Last week, I could hardly get her to eat, much less talk. There was nothing theatrical in her voice then. No teasing, no sharp wit, no Moira filling the space with the color and chaos she carries with her everywhere.

Just silence and exhaustion. She was curled in on herself. Unreachable.

Yeah, I knew that times like that would be part of what I suspect is her condition, but seeing it firsthand was something else. I couldn’t help wondering—had I brought it on? Could I have prevented it? Brought her out of it sooner?

For all my fucking discipline and control, there was nothing I could do, and it made me want to tear my hair out or find somebody else to go punch.

So yes, she can prod and poke and torment me all she likes. I’ll listen to every ridiculous thought that spills from her lips,happily, as long as it means she’s here again. Fully here.

“Come on, broody husband,” she purrs, curling her leg around my hip. “Let’s stay in bed all day.”

I shake my head, dragging myself up. “Out.”

She pouts dramatically, but I see the spark in her eyes. Shewantsto be dragged into the world today.

So I do.

And once she’s out, I watch her gain energy from being out.

She makes us walk downtown, but it takes twice as long as it should because she gets distracted byeverything.

The bakery. The bookshop. A cat sunbathing in a window. A pigeon she claims is her sworn enemy from last week, even though we both know she spent all last week in bed and I have no idea what a pigeon might have done to deserve her wrath.

I follow wherever she flits off to because how can I not?

It’s like following a living firework, sparking off in different directions, pulling me along in the wake of her energy.

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