Page 73 of Ripple Effect
Sam frowns. “Did she not get the message…”
“Apparently, Libby’s so accustomed to Rebecca calling her with news that our trips have been extended that she didn’t bother to check.” I flick the cap of the beer into the sink, uncaring if it scratches the stainless steel.
Iris gives Sam a concerned look before she slides off the barstool and wraps an arm around my waist. I loop mine over her shoulder. “Listen, Cal, she’s not entirely wrong.”
I pull away, our arms falling in between us, fingers brushing. “I don’t want to hear this.”
“That’s the problem—you don’t!” she throws back hotly. “You’re pissed your wife isn’t here, but what was she supposed to do? Walk off her own job?”
I open and close my mouth a few times because anything I say at this moment would come out sounding like an asshole. Iris gets back in my space and pokes me in the chest. “You’re gone as much as you’re here, Cal. You have to expect her to fill her life while you’re gone.”
Sam scoffs. “It could be worse. Instead of building an empire, she could have left your sorry ass like Pete’s wife did. I mean, look at what he came home to after our last trip.”
“That’s not funny.” My heart begins tripping in my chest at the very idea of Libby sliding out of my life because of the job. “I’d sooner give up Alliance than I would my wife.”
It’s Iris’s turn to laugh. “You say that, yet your every action says otherwise, Cal.” Finishing her drink, she puts the empty bottle into the sink. “Let’s go home to Rachel, Sam. I spend enough time with Cal as it is. If Libby’s not here, there’s no reason to stay.”
Iris’s words strike me hard in the chest. She’s right. Without Libby around, there’s no happiness. So, what reason is there to stay? Putting my beer on the counter, I walk them to the back door. “Good trip, guys.” Even to my own ears, my words sound lackluster.
“Yeah, buddy. It was.” Sam slaps me on the back.
Iris squeezes my arm as she passes in front of me. “She’ll be home tomorrow, you said?”
I nod, my throat too tight to speak.
“Then maybe we’ll drop by then.” Iris bounds down the steps.
“Call first,” I yell after her.
She waves at me as she walks to the car. I stand at the door and wait while she and Sam pull out until I can no longer see their headlights down our street.
Closing the door, I snag my beer and move into the living room. Dropping down onto the sofa, I say to the framed picture of Libby and me taken on our wedding day, “Is it really the effects of the job causing these problems? Or is it that I was never meant to have you in my life? I don’t know if you know it, honey, but it’s thoughts of your smile that keeps the darkness at bay on the days I’m not with you. It’s the only way I can keep doing the job.” I reach over and plop my beer on the table next to me.
Tipping my head back, I only intend on closing my eyes for just a moment. This last trip was a bitch. What we found once we rescued the computer mogul’s niece was beyond words. There were piles of bodies in that pit…I shudder as the images flash into my mind. Pulling Libby’s favorite throw off the back of the couch, I wrap myself in the scent of her instead of the lye. “Never should have happened,” I mumble as sleep threatens. “Right under their noses.”
But instead of Libby’s sweet arms to hold the nightmares of the first night at bay, I’m assaulted by the memories of the girl chained up. Then my heart trips in my sleep as I recall being given authorization to go in and get her once we provided the intel that assured us all she wouldn’t be set free. Then the issuance of the secondary mission of leading the joint task force back to the camp to begin to identify the decomposing bodies. “Nooo,” I groan.
“Shh. It’s just a nightmare, Cal,” Libby’s honeyed voice whispers. Her delicate hand runs over my unruly hair. I jerk up, almost slamming my head into hers. A quick scan around the room shows me the bleakness of the dark outside.
“It’s not morning,” I accuse. I press the heels of my hands against my eyes as I try to force my heartbeat to some semblance of normal.
“I couldn’t leave things the way they were after we talked,” Libby admits quietly. “When I was done with my business dinner, I went back to my hotel, packed, and checked out. I just got home.”
“What time is it?” I manage to croak out.
“A little after one. Come on, we’ll deal with it the morning. Let’s get you to bed.” She shifts away in preparation to stand, but I don’t let her. Instead, I tumble her down on top of me. Rolling her so she’s braced against the back of the couch, I search her face. She looks exhausted—as if she hasn’t slept well in weeks. And suddenly, I’m humbled and ashamed. “I’m sorry.” The words are out of my mouth before I realize they were on my lips. “I was a jackass,” I admit.
Libby rubs her hand over the scruff on my cheek. “I have to do something to distract myself or go mad.”
“I get it.” And I really do. This is why I’ve never told her the extent of what we do; I don’t want her worrying while I’m gone.
“Okay.” There’s a long pause where we do nothing but take a moment to learn each other after so much time away. It seems like we have to do that a lot because the other person keeps changing and becomes just a touch more unfamiliar each time I come home.
Or maybe it’s just me who thinks that? I shake my head. Rolling away from Libby, I push to my feet. Offering my hands down to my beautiful wife, I pull her up into my arms and into a hug—one I desperately need to reassure myself that the flash of pain I glimpsed on her face when I held her was only temporary.
48
Present Day
