Page 114 of Nothing to Fear

Of course, she followed him. The woman had to dig into every argument with fangs and talons until she drew blood. “You announced you were leaving for the academy. You informed me we’d live in the Beltway. In the same disrespectful manner you bought that Jeep.”

How in the hell did she turn a gift into a sign of disrespect?

“Listen”—he pointed a finger—“I wasn’t used to being in it with someone, discussing everything. I needed to go through my own process when I applied to the Agency.”

She folded her arms. “You’re still not used to it. You keep everything to yourself. Disappear for days at a time for work. Come home banged up, no explanation. And when you’re here, you might as well not be. You don’t share anything.”

He took a hefty swill of beer. “Let’s get counseling.”

“Two years after I ask, you suddenly want to try counseling? So you can throw on your QB smile, charm your way through the sessions, and paint me as a nagging bitch?”

He set the beer on the counter since he couldn’t enjoy it and sat in the dining room to ride out the latest wave of batshit insanity. “What do you want from me?” He threw his hands in the air. “I’ll return the Jeep. Buy whatever you want.”

“You don’t get it.” Fury gleamed in her eyes. “If you love someone, you don’t make decisions for them. Even when you think it’s best. Being with you is like living with a ghost—a damn dead person—who controls everything.”

“I have an hour commute each way because you wanted to live in the city. I had no say in paint colors, furnishings, where my clothes are hung. I’m a visitor in your house, but I pay the mortgage. And the last time we fucked, you didn’t complain about me acting like a dead guy.”

Her upper lip curled in disdain. “Unreal.”

“You said the same thing after your third climax.”

“Ugh!” She snatched the beer bottle from the counter and launched it at his head.

With a deft swipe, he caught it, but frothy ale splashed on the floor.

Battening down his emotions with glacial ice, he leveled her with a glance. “Throwing my beer is crossing the line.” The good stuff was his one luxury, and the shit was pricey.

“Your beer? That’s crossing the line?” Sighing, she shook her head, disgust on her face.

He wished he could do or say the right thing to fix this.

Something dawned in her eyes, some aha moment that twisted her expression into a look of fear. “I don’t know who you are at all, do I? I can’t believe I married you.”

The comment sliced through him. “But you did marry me. For better or worse. So let’s put the past behind us. Start fresh. Get to know me better. Ask me anything nonwork-related.”

“That’s the crux of our problem, Gideon. Your work and whatever the hell it is you do for the CIA.”

He was no longer with the Agency, but he couldn’t tell her about the Gray Box.

“For some people, what you do is what you are. For you, it goes deeper. The CIA is like this mistress that you love more than me, the only one you share your secrets with. I’ll never truly know you, never get in, unless you tell me everything.”

Kelli had been right all along. Regret and anger and frustration boiled over inside him. Gideon slammed his fists on the hood, pounding the Jeep until his side ached, wanting to yell.

And to his shame, wanting to cry.

“Hey, Reaper!” Reece’s voice cut through the blinding haze of raw emotion.

Gideon stopped beating the car and hauled in heavy breaths.

“You all right, man?” Reece asked.

Would he ever be all right again? “Fine. I’m fine.”

Reece shook his head with a woeful look. “It’s okay to hurt. It’s okay to rage. I did a lot of both after my divorce. Still do. But right now, save your energy. You’re going to need it.”

Gideon nodded, needing to lock down all this messy stuff Willow brought spewing to the surface. This weakness. For Christ’s sake, she’d brought Reaper to the cusp of blubbering like a baby. Not to mention had him thinking about himself in the third person.

Reece handed him a black duffel. “Gear up in the car. We’ll sort through the rest later.”