Page 16 of An Unfinished Memory

And all day, I’d try not to think about how I’d have to pretend I’m not sneaking around with my best friend’s brother, who’s also my ex-husband.

Wilder

I hid from my sister until well after she and Sutton pulled away. I left the bedroom and got a look at her house in the light.

This was where she called home now?

I’d driven past her house once last fall after Cody toldme she’d bought a place, and he and Aggie and Ansen had helped her move in.

The home was smaller than our—my—house in Buffalo Gully. An older farmhouse, but built within the last sixty years, white with black shutters, small concrete steps with a landing that wasn’t much wider than the door. The only back door was through the garage.

I found Sylvester in a bedroom tucked by the guest bathroom. Were there a third and fourth bedroom upstairs? Had she converted a space to an office? Since she had a nice, new vet clinic, she probably didn’t need one.

Not knowing bothered me.

This whole house was a strange place I’d never been in before.

I faced the bearded dragon that was perched on his branch like usual. “Hey, old man.”

Was it weird I missed feeding him? Sutton had Sylvester before we met, and I was the pinch-feeder. Handling mealworms and crickets wasn’t high on my list of shit I wanted to do, but I’d done it so Sutton could rest easy if she was tied up at the ranch during his feeding time.

He didn’t move when the crickets started hopping around. This was the time I typically vanished, but I lingered by his large cage. He didn’t move. I didn’t move.

Was I going to tell him about the mess inside my head? Confess to how last night was the first time I saw the world in color after months of gray? Tell him that I wasn’t sure what hole I’d bury myself in if Sutton told me our arrangement didn’t work for her because she met someone?

Fuck’s sake. “Take care, old man.”

I pushed a hand through my hair and carried myboots with me through the living room. Pictures of our nieces, Ivy and Ro, and our nephew, Grayson, hung on the walls next to photos of Sutton’s niece, Petra. Would Petra still be considered my niece? We’d never visited Sutton’s family. Her sister was a world-class figure skater and was always on the road or in another country for some training camp. The same went for Petra. By the time I met Sutton, her niece had been old enough to dive into training and competition.

Drawings of princesses were hung next to Ivy. The tiny handprints must be Ro’s.

She’d taken a risk divorcing me. My family had become her family, and they’d stayed her family. She was still an aunt to my nieces and nephew. If anything, my family had been harder on me through the divorce. It’d been obvious to everyone but me how badly I’d let her down.

I glanced around the rest of the room. A couch with haphazardly piled blankets and throw pillows was placed in a corner. A recliner and a couple of end tables completed the cozy vibe.

A soft chuckle left me. Forget the office. All of her periodicals, various other papers, and a scattering of notes littered her coffee table. Sutton wasn’t a slob, but the living room was clearly where she spent a lot of her time when she wasn’t at the clinic.

Longing tugged at my heart. I couldn’t give in to my emotions. I had an arrangement with her that suited both of us. I went into the kitchen. My stomach rumbled, reminding me I hadn’t eaten after work last night, and I’d had a strenuous several hours.

I’d love to feast on my wife again.

Ex. Wife.

The weight on my chest was back. What the fuck was wrong with me? I could do this. Sleep with Sutton and get on with my life. I trailed my fingers over the crack in the counter by the fridge that held more kids’ artwork and pictures of a now-teen Petra in a shimmery yellow competition costume and pristine white figure skates.

Sutton hadn’t moved on with another man, but she’d gone on with her life.

I hadn’t done the same.

Maybe I should sell the house. Let some other person find happiness within the walls.

I could get a fixer-upper. A project house.

And when would you fix it up, fucker?

My mood dived, and I stuffed my feet into my boots and went into the garage. The second bay was full of kennels of all shapes and sizes, and boxes of supplies for when she went out on a call from home.

Not my business.

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