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“Brogan?”
He grunts.
“Can I ask you a question?”
“You really need my permission?”
“No, but… it’s personal.”
He sighs. “Of course it is.”
I turn on my side and face him. “Your hands.”
As expected, he stiffens.
I push on despite his rising defense. “Can you tell me how they got burned?”
Twenty-Three
Brogan
I’m in bed with my wife. The woman who stole my cold and bitter heart—a heart I thought was locked tight and impenetrable.
She’s here.
Lying next to me.
So close.
If I reach out, I can touch her.
But I can’t.
I won’t.
I can only listen to her breathe.
Smell her sweet fragrance.
Feel the mattress dip in her direction when I move.
She’s here, but I can’t have her.
Not when there’s no one to fool but us.
It’s what we agreed to.
That freaking contract…
It didn’t have anything about love.
About unrequited love.
Elizabeth didn’t sign up for that.
So I won’t push that on her.
But this is torture.
