Page 100 of Merging Wright

“I’m trying not to.” She’s been detached as we watched the flames subside.

I open my arms. “Baby, come here.” Jane slips to my side where she belongs. Where she should have been the past few days and nights. I don’t fault her sister being here, but I miss my wife.

“If we don’t make the Fest, we still have until the end of August next year.” Jane’s voice is dull. Her words aren’t encouraging. “But Myles won’t get his portion of the inheritance.”

My brother could have been awarded twice as much as me. He could move out of Ma’s house. Hell, he could even sell his business and leave Wrightwood. But I don’t want to think about Myles.

“You’ll get to stay my wife a little longer.” My teasing tone isn’t strong enough to hold humor, but I tug Jane tighter in my embrace.

“I’m not going anywhere.” She blandly reassures me. “We have an arrangement.”

Her words aren’t quite what I want to hear. A distancing silence floats around us. We need to discuss the future, but tonight is not the night for such a conversation. Tonight is about relief. Relief I hadn’t known I was holding in.

Jane wasn’t in that fire. She wasn’t hurt. She’s in my arms where I want her to stay.

47

Playlist: “The Chain” – Fleetwood Mac

(from Guardians of the Galaxy)

[Jane]

“No, I haven’t told her yet.” Mach’s terse tone stops me in my tracks as I enter the front room. I’ve hardly slept and neither has Mach. The smell of smoke still lingers in my nose, and every time I closed my eyes in the wee hours of the morning all I saw were ugly flames eating up the town.

Mach’s back is to me. One hand on the back of his neck, the other holds his phone to his ear. He’s wearing jeans that dip on his hips and hug his ass. I miss his body. I miss his hands on my skin. I miss him, and we need to seriously talk, but with the fire disaster, I can’t think straight.

“I know she can’t be a partner.” He huffs, removing the hand from his neck to scrub down his face.

My heart rate speeds up. My stomach plummets. I take a step back, tucking myself just outside the room’s entrance.

“Does it help if it was a promise made with my fingers crossed behind my back?” Sarcasm fills Mach’s voice. His words are childish, while his tone is one-hundred percent hard man.

“You’re right. It’s not funny. I shouldn’t have offered . . . but I needed her, Ashe. You know the story. And now this. I still need her. This new development is a fucking disaster.”

Silence falls, and I assume Tucker speaks his mind to Mach. My mind reels with the words I’ve heard.

I shouldn’t have offered.

I needed her.

Mach exhales. “The marriage contract is for a year, but we were hoping to finish by Christmas. We’ll just need to regroup and stay here a little longer. What a shitshow, though. We were almost finished, and life could go back to what it used to be.”

Used to be. Before we came here. Before we were married for real. Before we fell into bed with one another.

Another pause follows Mach’s statement and I wish I could hear Tucker’s argument.

“Fuck,” he growls. “I know. I know.”

And I know, I’ve heard enough. He was never going to give me the partnership. I wasn’t even certain I still wanted it, but that wasn’t the point. Mach lied to me. He promised me something he couldn’t follow through on. He used me.

The truth should smack me in the face, but it’s been present all along.

Pretend to be his wife.

Partake in the benefits of marriage.

Partner with him on every fucking decision for this town but never be worthy of being his equal.