Page 13 of Chasing the Other Woman

Brooks is sitting on the edge of an exam bed.

Alive.

There’s blood dried at his hairline. One sleeve is cut open, and white gauze is wrapped around his forearm.

But he’s alive.

My hand flies to my mouth.

For a minute, that’s all I care about. Thanking God he’s alive. Telling myself it’s all going to be okay now.

Then I see Luci.

Suddenly, she’s in his arms.

Her face is pressed into his chest, her shoulders shaking. Brooks wraps his good arm around her, his hand spread wide against her back. He holds her carefully, as if she’s the one who is broken.

I grip the doorframe, stopping myself.

“I thought we were going over,” I hear Luci say.

“I did too,” Brooks says, his voice rough.

His fingers flex against her back.

I take one step closer. I’m his wife. He’s hurt. I belong next to him. I’m the one whose head should be pressed against his chest.

Then he lowers his head toward Luci’s hair. His lips don’t quite meet the crown of her head, but they’re so close.

“Thank God you were there.” His voice is barely audible, but I hear every word as if they’re being shouted across the room. “I don’t know that I would’ve made it through that without you.”

The pain in my chest blooms bright and hot.

I warned him.

I told him to turn sooner. I called out his name, and all but begged him to turn. Then I heard the crash. Drove here with memories chasing me down like a masked villain out of a horror movie.

And now I’m watching him hold her.

Brooks looks up.

Our eyes meet.

I wait for his hands to drop. For him to push her aside and come to me.

But his arm stays around Luci.

He doesn’t move her away.

He doesn’t reach for me.

Doesn’t even say my name.

Luci turns, seeing me. Her cheeks are wet. She looks so young and terrified that, for a split second, I hate myself for resenting the embrace my husband is giving her.

Brooks still doesn’t move.

I press my hand against my stomach. His eyes follow the movement, and I see when he swallows.