Even Jake has sensed something is up. That’s why I gave him Dee’s phone number, so he could text her the other day. I figured if it was something I’d done, at least she wouldn’t brush my son off. And I was right. She didn’t. Ever since the accident, she’s been present, but just . . . different. Well, whatever caused the change is about to be fixed or I’ll go down fighting.
Rhodes: Can you come over tomorrow night? I think we should talk.
Dee: Okay.
And that’s all I get. No ‘What do we need to talk about?’ or ‘Is everything alright?’.
Fast forward twenty-four hours, and Dee’s car is pulling into my driveway. I arranged for Jake to stay at my mom and dad’s tonight, and I was honest with him about the fact that I thought something was up with Dee and I needed time to talk it out with her and make sure everything would be okay. He was wholeheartedly in favor of it and even had the cheek to ask, “What took you so long?”
I already have the front door open when she moves up the front path toward me. Her body language is tense, almost defensive, as if she thinks she’s approaching battle.
Surely she knows by now that I’m all for ‘making love, not war.’ I’m also not about to let her walk away without a damn good reason why. We didn’t fight, I didn’t lie to her or stand her up, or do anything else that could warrant her version of ‘silent treatment.’ It hasn’t even been silence, she’s been distant, which is decidedly worse. “Hey,” I say, leaning into the doorframe.
“Hey.” She stops in front of me like she doesn’t know what to do.
I step forward and run my fingers through the hair at her temple until my hand is cradling the back of her head and I have her eyes on mine. I relax a little when she leans into my touch. “You’re a sight for sore eyes, sweet cheeks.”
“I was here a few days ago.”
“Yeah. You were here.” I step in, bringing our bodies in close. “But you weren’t here.” Then I lower my mouth to hers and kiss her soft and slow, my fingers flexing in her hair as she melts into me, chasing my tongue with hers.
When I pull back, her lips are swollen and her eyes are a hell of a lot more relaxed than when she first arrived.
“Feeling better yet?”
Her teeth dig into her lip, but she doesn’t answer me. Taking that as at least some progress, I reach out and grab her hand and walk inside before closing the door behind us and leading her into the living room.
She places her purse on the coffee table and looks around. “Where’s Jake? I thought he’d be here.”
“He’s at Don and Nora’s. I told him you and I needed time alone to talk.”
Dee’s mouth drops open. “You what? Rhodes! He’s still recovering. You didn’t need to kick him out of his own house.”
I pin her in place with a pointed stare. “Yeah, I did. But no, I didn’t kick him out. Mom and Dad love having him there, especially Mom. She can fuss and fawn over him and make him all his favorite foods while Dad has a buddy to watch all the sports he wants with. It’s a win-win situation for everyone.”
“But—”
“And I wasn’t lying to my kid about why I wanted the house to ourselves. We need to sort this out, Dee, and we need to do it without any distractions.” I give her a moment to collect herself and walk past her and through to the kitchen. “Would you like a drink?”
Her head spins around and she shoots me an adorably confused look. “Um . . . sure. A wine?”
“Well, look at that, I have your favorite white right here in the fridge waiting for you.” I pour her drink and grab myself a beer before handing her the half-full glass.
“Rhodes . . .?” she asks as she takes it from me.
“Yeah?”
“What are we doing?”
“We’re about to sit down, have a drink, and then talk.”
She nods jerkily before following me to the couch and taking a seat. Her posture anything but relaxed.
I wait for her to say something—anything—but she’s too busy gripping her wine glass in both hands. Fuck it. I need to know what the hell is wrong so that I can start working toward making it better again.
“Dee?” She turns her head my way and takes a deep breath, slowly closing her eyes before reopening them. “Baby, you’ve gotta talk to me. Tell me what’s wrong. If I don’t know, I can’t make it right, and there’s no fucking way I’m letting you hold me at arm’s length, not anymore. Not when you gave me all of you and I made a promise to myself that as long as I could, I’d never let you go. What we’ve got is too good, too special, too important . . .”
“I know,” she whispers. “I’ve just been trying to work through some stuff in my head.”
I move over, ease the wineglass out of her hold, and place it on the table before covering her hands in her lap with mine. “Tell me, Dee.”
She shakes her head and squeezes her eyes shut. “I can’t.”
“You can’t what?”
“I can’t talk about it.”
I rub my palms over the back of her clasped hands. “We can’t get past this if I don’t know what I’m up against.” Searching her eyes for clues, there’s worry and concern there as she bites her lip and averts her gaze.
“Look. We don’t have
