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“Leave? Now?” I manage, feeling almost panicked.
Fuck, for the past months she’s been my touchstone. The one person who gives me strength rather than saps it like everyone and everything else seems to. A sick feeling curls in my stomach.
“Yes, this case we’re working on. Like I said, I’m not sure how long—”
“What are you telling me?” I snap, unable to keep the sudden surge of fear from my voice. I see her lips press tight as she twists out of my arms.
“If you’d quit interrupting, you’d know,” she fires back just as sharply.
“Jesus, that’s all I fucking need, worrying about you on some fucking assignment. Like I don’t have enough on my goddamn plate already. To top it off, I have to come home to an empty bed?”
I can see the exact moment it happens. Her face blanches and then evens out, without a single emotion showing. “Coming home would require actually showing up. You should stay here at the club, you seem to prefer it anyway.” She turns and reaches for the door, as she mumbles, “I’ll be in touch.”
I know I’m in fucking trouble when she walks out of my office, head high, spine ramrod straight, and without so much as even a kiss goodbye.
2
Luna
Christ, this is boring. I’d forgotten.
This woman does little else than drop her kids off at school and pick them up again.
Yesterday, I thought we might have some excitement when she took a different route from the school, but all she did was spend an hour at the grocery store. I ended up grabbing some snacks while I was trailing her down the aisles, which wasn’t a smart idea. Wrappers and empty bottles are littering my vehicle and my stomach is uncomfortably full with crap.
Emotional binging.
I spoke to Ouray once in the past four days. That was the day before yesterday, to check in on things. For the first time since we’ve been together, the conversation was awkward, stilted. I’d been hesitant to let him know I opted to catch a few winks at the local motel where the team was staying, rather than waste time driving home.
It makes more sense: with surveillance like this you never know when things suddenly run hot, requiring all hands on deck. Doesn’t mean I don’t have an ulterior motive for staying away from home.
I’ve tried talking to him about it—how his withdrawal from us as a couple has impacted me—but he doesn’t hear me. Maybe if he feels what I have felt for months, he’ll get it. Fuck, I hope so, because even though it was my choice to create some distance, I’m afraid it’s hurting me more than it is him. During the phone call it almost sounded like he was indifferent.
I jump when the car door opens, almost going for my sidearm.
“Easy, Roosberg.” Damian folds himself in the passenger seat.
“What are you doing here?”
“Checking in on my team. That okay?” He regards me closely, as I try to rub off the fatigue I know is showing on my face.
“Sorry,” I mumble.
“Everything all right, Luna? Happy to take over for a couple of hours if you need some rest.”
Tears sting my eyes at his concern. Wouldn’t that be something? Badass FBI agent crying on the job? Christ, I’m a mess. “I’m good,” I manage.
“You know you can talk to me, right?” he offers after a long pause. “I may be your boss, but I’m your friend too.”
“I know that.”
“Good. Then you won’t mind me pointing out that I’ve noticed a difference in you.” He holds up his hand to stop the protest about to tumble from my lips. “Hear me out. I don’t claim to be a particularly enlightened man when it comes to relationships—just ask my wife—but even I can see the kind of demands stress puts on a marriage. I’ve been there. Or maybe I should say my wife has.”
Curiosity piques at the implication of what looked from the outside to be a solid relationship might have been shaken at one point or another. “You?”
“Fuck yes, me. Or rather, us. We’ve had a few rough spots, and I bet if you asked any one of our married friends, they’ve hit some of their own along the way.”
“Hard to imagine,” I mumble, thinking about Dylan, who seems blissfully happy with his chaotic household. Or Jasper, who all but dotes on his family. Difficult to see any of them as struggling.
