Page 97 of Wild Side
My eyes fall shut, fingers digging into the rough canvas of the cushion as the air rushes from my lungs, leaving behind a heavy ache. “No,” I whisper, still unable to look at her.
“You were sogoodto her.”
My nose scrunches as her words crumble into a heavy sob. All I can offer is a nod as I let my lids lift and my eyes take in what I now recognize as journals strewn all around her.
Erika’s journals.I’d see her writing on the porch sometimes, but they hadn’t crossed my mind beyond that.
Tabitha’s hands clench into tight fists, the sound of her hollow whimpers like death by a thousand shards of glass. “You let me believe…” Her lips smack, a disbelieving huff leaping from them. “I was awful to you.”
I face her now, her dark eyes boring into mine. “You weren’t.”
“Iwas. I was awful to you. I accused you of—my god.” She slaps a palm over her mouth, shoulders heaving as another sob wracks her tiny body.
My fingers itch to touch her, but this time when I reach for her, she slaps my hand away. “Why the hell would you lie about that?” Her hair dangles beside her cheeks as her head shakes, mouth popped open in disbelief. “Why?”
I swallow thickly. “I just…” I wipe a hand over my mouth and look away, searching for the right words, the best way to explain things to her. “Tensions were high between us, and I didn’t know if I could trust you. And then I came here and got this whole new perspective, and I—fuck, Tabby, I don’t know. You were so broken, and I couldn’t handle it. I couldn’t tell you anything to make you feel better, but my silence could ease your burden, so…” I let out a frustrated growl and look up at the clear night sky, not sure what I’m saying makes sense.
Then I drop my gaze back to hers. “You needed someone to be angry with, and I figured I could be that person for you.”
“Rhys. It hurtyou. I hurtyou. You didn’t deserve that!” Her frustration sparks, hands slapping at the cushions beneath her. “And me?” She laughs, but there’s no humor. “That was my cross to bear—not yours. I’ve been walking around like I’m all fucking holier than thou, and I just…I’mresponsible?—”
“Tabitha.” I grip her leg, urging her to hear what I tell her. “Listen to me. You arenotresponsible.”
She shakes me off, breaths coming more quickly, eyes going from dead to frantic. “Don’t touch me, Rhys. I… I need… I don’t know what I need. But don’t fucking touch me right now.”
She pushes to stand, blanket falling from her shoulders as she walks stiffly into the house. Still kneeling on the wooden deck, I drop my face into my palms, trying to figure out how to make this better.
I realize that I don’t know, but I stood in a church, in front of a lot of people who care about her, and promised to comfort her. To nurture this relationship when life is simple and when it’s not.
Right now, things are not simple. But the way I’ve come to feel about her is.
I follow her into the house. Up the stairs where I can hear the shower running. I enter the bathroom without knocking, just in time to watch her step into the shower fully clothed. She stands there woodenly, face to the spray, water mingling with her tears and drenching her.
Her body lurches on a sob, and watching her hurt like this almost brings me back to my knees.
This. This is why I didn’t tell her.
She slams back against the tiled wall and slides down it until she’s sitting, knees bent, elbows propped, head hung.
“Fuck it,” I mutter as I rip the glass door open and step in with her. The shocking spray of ice-cold water sluices over my clothes, soaking through to my skin and forcing me to suck in a quick breath.
I drop down beside her, maintaining a few inches between us in a pathetic attempt to respect her wishes.
I’m not sure how long we sit there with the white noise of rushing water making it feel like we’re living in our own private, frigid water world.
It’s fucking freezing, but I barely feel it. All I can think about is Tabitha and how I’d give anything for her to let me comfort her right now. Hell, I’d kill just for her to talk to me right now.
I’ve spent a lifetime thinking I don’t like talking. It turns out I just needed the right person to talk to.
“You should leave,” she says, her voice tinny as it echoes around us.
“No.”
Her face whips in my direction, eyes flashing, chin held high and defiant. “I said get out!”
I match her glare. “Tabitha. You’re my wife. I’m not leaving you.”
Something flickers across her face at that, and instead of responding, she stares at me. Really stares at me. To the point where it’s unnerving. I lick my lips and swallow, then with a resigned sigh, her eyes flutter shut, and she tips her head back against the tiles. Seconds stretch as I watch her carefully.
