Page 32 of Ravaged With You

But more than that, I craved Red, too. And not just in a friendly way.

Honestly, is it any wonder Mel had an affair?

A flicker of anger teases my senses, because the truth is, I didn’t have an affair. More, I tried to talk to him about it. Hell, I did talk to him about it, and he even agreed that something had changed after we married. We’d lost that friends-connection we’d had, and there’d been nothing deeper to take its place.

I suggested counseling. I suggested talking.

In the end, I suggested a divorce.

He wasn’t having any of it. That’s when I saw an attorney. And by that time, I was certain something was up. An affair, I assumed. And that only pissed me off more.

Now, it breaks my heart that those years poisoned our friendship. And that I was so terribly complicit. If only I’d said no when he put marriage on the table. If only I hadn’t been so desperate to not be alone.

I married Mel to save myself from that fate. But in the end, I was more alone than ever.

“Hey,” Red says, pulling my attention back from my misery. “I lose you?”

I shake my head. “Just thinking about being alone. Somehow it always comes around again.”

He takes my hand, then squeezes. “Bullshit. You’ve got me, right? And we’re going to find out who killed your husband.”

“Our friend,” I stress. Because to me, those were the best years, and the ones I want to keep close in my memories.

“Hell, yes,” Red says, then pulls his hand away, returning it to the steering wheel. I mourn the loss, but it’s probably for the best. With Red, my thoughts seem to have a mind of their own, and it’s a pretty naughty mind.

I shift sideways so that I can see him better. We used to talk about everything. Now I’m holding back about my rocky marriage and my lust for him, and he’s holding back about what happened overseas.

I know things have changed, and we’re not college friends whose biggest problem is getting notes for all the lectures we skipped. But I still miss that intimacy. Those long nights where the three of us drank and talked and shared our dreams and our secrets. And, yes, our fears.

“Will you ever tell me what happened?” I ask, the question out before I have sense enough to call it back.

“Happened?”

I scoff. “I’m not an idiot, Charlie Cooper. You came back with a shit ton of baggage. It weighs you down. I can see it. Hell, even before this morning, I could see it.”

“Christ, Jo, do we—”

I hold up a hand, cutting off his sharp words. “It’s me, Red. Remember me? We used to be able to talk about anything.”

“And then you married Mel.”

“I—” I go silent. I have no idea what that has to do with anything. “In case you missed the memo, you son-of-a-bitch, I’m not married now. And what the hell does that have to do with anything anyway?”

We’re at a light, and he turns to look at me. His expression is unreadable. But his eyes—oh, God, I know the nature of that heat in his eyes. I’d seen it before on that night we shared a kiss. The night when he pushed me away.

I swallow a gasp, suddenly unsure of everything. “We need to talk.”

“No,” he says. “We really don’t.”

I don’t argue. What would be the point? Instead, we drive in silence, heading to Century City and the law offices of Kline and Rosenfeld, until I point out where to turn, then guide him into the parking structure. I pass him my access card, and we find an empty space after going in circles for about ten minutes. Only the lawyers have assigned parking. Legal assistants and other support staff get to battle it out among the other tenants and guests.

On the whole though, I like working here. The building is nice and the people are demanding only when the work requires it. Nobody’s an ass just to be one, and considering what some of my friends at other firms put up with, I consider that a major plus.

Not only that, but it’s walking distance to the mall, which means decent food and shopping during my lunch hour.

We take the elevator to twenty-eight, but before I can step toward the firm’s double doors, Red takes my elbow and tugs me back.

“I’m sorry,” he says.