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Only… I was relieved nobody else saw him like that. He deserved so much better.
My husband didn’t deserve the shitty hand he’d been dealt in life. He hadn’t deserved the abuse that had driven him into a pit so deep and dark he had an impossible time pulling himself out.
I did my best to help. To offer him a hand to lift him up and out of that pit. Only my help hadn’t been enough.
Jesus, I loved Thomas so fucking much.
Why did life have to be so damn cruel?
Why did some people get to easily skate by in life while others paid dearly?
I swallowed, trying to loosen my closed throat, and I blinked the sting away.
I would not allow Rett to see me vulnerable. I would not give him any reason to be more “concerned” about me than he already was. It might encourage him to stick his nose even deeper into my business. He would use his “concern” as an excuse to keep checking up on me.
I shook myself mentally and quickly patched up the crack in my resolve.
Do not let him see you break.
My grief completely paralyzed me at times. To the point I wanted to dig a hole and bury myself in it. The days I didn’t think I could live one more without Thomas.
Yes, I should move on or at least accept the fact that whatever I did wouldn’t change the outcome of what happened. Of losing the only man I had ever loved. The one who took my heart with him, leaving a gaping hole behind.
With a frown, Rett stopped in front of the built-in closet in my room and jerked a thumb at it. “What’s with the missing closet doors? Are you having them redone? I noticed the one in the bathroom’s missing, too.”
No surprise that while I was changing he’d been poking around in my bathroom. Did he dig through my medicine cabinet, as well?
But, damn, I never thought I’d have to answer that question because I never expected anyone to be in my bedroom, or, hell, my cabin. And if there was, I hadn’t expected it to be someone so intrusive.
Even the workers I had hired to do some of the improvements weren’t so damn nosy.
“Do you need help rehanging them?”
I couldn’t suppress the jolt that shook me to my core at his question. To anyone else, it was a simple question. To me it was so much more.
I needed to rein in any emotions he was stirring up, whether he was aware of it or not.
He needed to leave. Now.
He was watching me closely when he finished with, “It’ll be easier with an extra set of hands.”
I didn’t need his help. I didn’t need anything from the man except for him to leave me alone. “They don’t need a door.”
“Sure they do. Closets are the perfect place for hiding all the mess...”
Closets are perfect for hiding…
“You can just throw stuff in and shut the door.” He mimicked closing a door, then turned toward me, his frown gone. “Do you need some made? I know someone who—”
“No.”
“But—”
I cut him off with a firm, “My closets don’t need doors.”
His frown was back. “Why wouldn’t you want doors?”
Goddamn it! Because I’m afraid of what I’ll find when I open them.
I sucked in air until my lungs were completely full and then blew it back out of my nostrils. “I need to get back to writing.”
“Oh? How’s the new book coming?”
At least that got him off the subject of doors. Thankfully. “It’s… coming along,” I lied.
“That didn’t sound very convincing.”
When he approached where I leaned against the door frame, I straightened and dropped my arms to my side. “Then good thing you don’t need convinced.”
“If you ever need to bounce any ideas around for your next bestseller, I’m available.”
“Good to know.” I swept a hand behind me toward the main area of the cabin, hoping he’d take the hint to get out of my bedroom and head back to town.
Or wherever. Anywhere but here.
His gaze slid from me, out the door to the rest of the cabin and back to me. He nodded.
Did he finally get a clue?
“Let’s go, Timber,” he said to the dog still sniffing around my room and snuffling through the stuff at the bottom of my doorless closet.
Timber’s head snapped up and he trotted over to us with his tail up and wagging slowly.
I hesitated in the doorway because I wanted to make sure he actually left my bedroom. And if he didn’t, I would herd him out like a German Shepherd. However, my bite would be worse than my bark.
When Rett slipped past me, our arms accidentally brushed again, just like at the bookstore.
My reaction this time was even worse than the last.
This time a fire ripped through me, catching me off guard once again. No, it wasn’t simply a fire, it was a fast-burning wildfire fueled by high speed winds burning through every inch of me.
