Page 169 of King


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Savannah

It’s mostlydark when I open my eyes, but I can tell that the bathroom light has been left on and the door part way open.

I’m in bed. My bed. And the sheets feel so good against my aching body.

But instead of seeing King lying next to me, it’s a dog.

A giant, sweet, protective dog that will keep me safe.

“Hi, Duke,” I mostly mouth it, since my throat still hurts like a bitch, but he still blinks open his eyes at me.

Shifting closer, I hold one of his paws in my hand and fall back asleep.

CHAPTER86

King

Duke circles around,twice, before curling up at Savannah’s side.

I should go.

My hand grips the doorframe as I sway.

It’s been five nights. Five nights sleeping in another room. Five nights of drinking. Five nights of feeling like absolute shit.

Because I miss her.

Because I crave her company as much as I crave her.

Duke keeps his head up, staring at me. Likeclose the door, dickhead.

This has become our routine. When it gets dark out, I bring Duke to the room. Keeping him in here, with her, until the sun rises again. And while he gets comfortable, I stand here, wanting to go to my wife, but not sure how.

And then, when this part is done, and I leave, I drown my sorrows. Only every day it takes more to numb the pain.

Savannah shifts under the covers, and I step back, out of the room. Pulling the door quietly closed as I go, before she can see me.

In the hall, I take a second to just breathe.

But it doesn’t help.

So I do what I always do, I walk away from my sleeping wife and head down to my office.

I won’t sleep. Not for a while yet, so I might as well work.

I’m sitting down at my desk when my phone rings.

I debate for a moment not answering, but hit accept anyway, putting it on speaker so I can use both hands to pour some whiskey into a glass.

“Since I’m hoping you wouldn’t answer a call mid-stream, I’m going to assume you’re drinking.” Nero’s voice projects into the room.

“Such a detective,” I reply, swallowing a mouthful.

“Let me guess”––before Nero even starts, I know it’s time for a new best friend––“You’re over there, beating yourself up over what happened. And instead of facing the facts head on and getting the fuck over it, you’re being a drunk dumbass.” He makes a humming sound. “I’m also guessing you’re pulling some weird martyr shit and sleeping on the couch.”

“I hate you.”

Nero huffs, “So, I’m right.”

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