Page 49 of Chasing the Other Woman

"He's dead."

"Then you get my point, don't you, Brooks?"

I press my tongue to the inside of my split lip until pain sparks.

"First time she came home after meeting you, I knew she was gone. Completely gone. She talked about you until I wanted to pour queso in my ears."

"That would've been a waste of queso."

"Don't attempt charm with me tonight. I'm immune."

I shut my mouth.

"Then I saw you two together," she says. "And I stopped worrying. Because you looked at her like she'd hung the moon. You were just as gone."

My fingers curl around the glass.

"That's the part that makes all of this hard to watch," Petra says quietly. "If you'd never loved her right, I could tell her to bury you and be done with it. But you did. She had that. She had you beside her. She had a life she loved. Then bit by bit, she lost confidence. Lost her place. Lost the version of herself that knew exactly where she belonged. And she started believing the man she loved most didn't want the real Sam anymore."

I swallow, and the water stays untouched.

"I want her happy," I say. It comes out rough. "There is nothing I want more than that."

Petra's face hardens. "Your behavior says otherwise."

The instinct to defend myself rises fast. I did what I did because I was scared. Because I saw blood on my hands. Because every chase afterward put me back in that truck with her going pale in my lap.

I breathe through my nose.

"You took her out of the field because it made you less afraid," she says. "You'd swear to God and everyone that it was because you were protecting her. And, God help your dumb ass, I think you even believed it. But only one person paid for it: Sam."

I stare at the bar top.

"You put another woman beside you because it made the operation easier and let you avoid the big ugly thing sitting in the middle of your marriage. Maybe you never wanted Luci. Fine. I believe that. I don't care."

My eyes flick to hers.

"Sam watched you remove her from the place she loved and let Luci, with her tight little jeans and cute little blonde ponytail, step into it," Petra says. "Whatever you meant by doing it, the reality is: you replaced her with someone younger and blonder. I think you're smart enough now to know how that feels."

It's funny how obvious it is in hindsight.

No. Not funny. It's nauseating. Idiot. I'm an idiot.

"You want Sam happy?" she asks. "Then stop doing things to her because they make you feel better. Stop calling your fear love and handing her the bill. And understand this real clear: Sam loving you does not mean she owes you another chance."

My fingers find the ring in my pocket.

"Love isn't the issue, Brooks." Petra slides off the stool. "You have to stop hurting her."

She leaves me with Randy Travis, a chipped glass of water, and a truth I can't talk my way around.

The motel parking lot somehow wound up a lot better off than the rest of the town. A few strewn limbs and bucket trucks where normally there'd likely be empty spaces.

I park crooked because I'm too tired to care. The room waits at the far end of the row, one weak light buzzing above the door. I want a shower. I want eight hours where my own head leaves me alone. I want to knock on Sam's door, wherever she's sleeping tonight, and tell her everything I should have told her two years ago.

Instead, what I get is Tony sitting on the concrete outside of my room.

I stop ten feet away.