Page 204 of A Vicious Love

I sat on the edge of the coffee table across from her. Wet clothes clung to me. My cut hand had started bleeding again, leaving red marks on the towel. She noticed instantly, but I lifted my hand away before she could worry over me and derail the conversation.

“We’ve spent three years engaged and almost no time alone,” I continued. “The only time we had was in cars, and usually I was on the phone being an asshole.”

So, I was going to do the unthinkable. Willingly attend a retreat I had avoided for nearly a decade because the Bellemeres had compulsory group bonding

“So,” I swallowed every mean comment I could say about her family. “I accepted the lake cult invitation.”

Again. Actions of a saint. Three weeks of family activities with Bellemeres. God had hobbies; my suffering had to be his favorite.

“Did you hit your head?” she asked.

I blinked. “What?”

“In the water.” Her expression turned serious. “Did you hit it on a rock?”

“No.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

Her gaze moved to my forehead, then my eyes. “Do you feel dizzy?”

“Sienna.”

“Confused?”

She leaned forward, clutching the blanket and my jacket to her chest with one hand. The other lifted toward my face, then stopped halfway, as though she remembered she was allowed to worry but perhaps not allowed to touch.

That pause cut through me.

Three years ago, she would have put her hand on my cheek without thinking. She would have called me Jamjam, fussed over me. Made her concern sound like sunshine and I would have been cruel because I hadn’t known how to stand inside the warmth without burning it down.

I caught her wrist gently.

Her breath changed when I guided her hand to my temple.

“No head injury,” I said.

Her fingertips touched my skin. Sweet enough to make my chest hurt.

She searched my face, still unconvinced. “You’re talking strangely.”

“I nearly watched you drown.”

“I mean before that.”

“Before that, I was my usual pleasant self.”

Her brows pulled together. “You came here to work on us.”

“Yes.”

“You bought flowers. You carried me inside, said sorry more than once, wrapped me in a blanket, and now you’re telling me you accepted a Bellemere retreat to spend time with me.”

“Correct.”

“You hit your head,” She sat back slowly.