Page 58 of Dice & Dekes

My steps echo too loud in the hallway. My throat aches with unshed words. I want to scream at him. I want him to chase me. I want someone to make this stop hurting. But I just keep walking. Because if I stop, I might cry—and crying is for weak-ass pussies who don’t know how to armor up and move on.

I don’t cry. I don’t break. I burn.

And right now, I’m doing everything I can to stay on fire—because if the flames go out, I’m just a girl standing alone in a hallway with a voodoo painting and a broken heart. And I don’t know how to survive that.

Chapter Fourteen

Viktor

Sofia and Knight watch sympathetically as I gather my things.

“I’m sorry,” Knight says. “That was a little intense, even for her. I wasn’t expecting that.”

“Can’t say I was, either.” I hold the painting by the back tab since it’s still a bit wet. “Did I accidentally paint a second voodoo doll and not notice?”

“She’s always had a flair for interpretive violence,” Knight says.

Sofia tries to soften it. “Maybe it was… cathartic?”

Something tells me Knova didn’t attend this event in search of spiritual healing, unless she was trying to exorcise me.

On my way out, I say, “Enjoy the wine. I hope we didn’t ruin your night.”

Knight snorts. “Puh-lease. If Knova ruined my day every time she lashed out, I’d have spent my whole childhood on Lexapro. She’s upset. About something. Talk to her. She’ll come around.”

Ugh. Communication. My greatest weakness. I stalk back across the street, painting in hand, trying to figure out how the hell I’m supposed to talk to a woman who just pinned my soul to a canvas and gave it Xs for eyes.

Just as I expected, my wife is in Hurricane Knova mode. I find her canvas with my voodoo doll likeness stuffed in the trash. Meanwhile, she’s making a racket in the bedroom.

I brace myself for a fight and head back to find her before she can do anything drastic. Sure enough, she has her suitcase open on the floor and is mashing her clothes into it without care.

I stand in the doorway and cross my arms. “That wasn’t nice, Knova.”

She doesn’t look up from her bag. “What would you know about nice, Viktor?”

I close my eyes and take a deep breath. “I think I’ve been pretty damn nice. I bought you clothes, food, drove you to get your car, gave up my bed, and gratefully walk around as the butt of your jokes. I think I deserve the benefit of the doubt, at least. At least, I deserve to know why you’re being so mean to me.”

Knova stops what she’s doing and whirls to face me. Her cheeks are flushed, and her eyes are bright as embers. “So what if you’ve bought me things? You think that means you can do anything you want, you entitled prick? I told you, buying me crap doesn’t mean that you own me. I don’t owe you shit.”

This is different from our usual squabbles. I’m used to play-fighting this woman, but it’s usually just that, a game. Whatever she’s feeling now has gotten under her skin. She’s truly furious with me, and while I don’t know the full story, I’ve got a sinking feeling it’s about more than just me not taking her on a date on my day off.

“Why are you so mad?” I ask, laying all my cards on the table.

Knova stalks toward me. “Because I know you went out to see a girl last Saturday, and you won’t admit it. Just tell me you’re fucking someone else!” She jabs her finger into my chest.

I catch her wrist and pull her closer. “I’m not fucking anyone else.”

“Liar!” She tries to pull away, but I hold on.

“I’m not lying. I swear. I haven’t slept with anyone else since I moved in to my condo.”

“Now I know you’re lying,” she snarls. “It’s been over a year.”

“Yup.”

She wriggles in a halfhearted attempt to get away from me. “You expect me to believe that you haven’t gotten laid in over a year?”

“Whether you believe it or not, it’s the truth.” I let my voice drop lower as I make a confession that I once swore I’d take to the grave. “Because you’re here, and you’re all I’ve ever wanted.”

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