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With that, Adam turns and walks from the room.
“Where are you going?” I call after him.
“Gym,” he grunts.
The door slams, leaving me to lean back in the chair, biting down as the tension grips me in its talons. I feel like the worst sister imaginable for making him so angry, so soon after Eva’s passing.
Doesn’t it prove there’s some truth there? The fight was about Eva and Bryson.
What else would that mean, other than something happened between them?
Tears sting my eyes as I move my hands over my belly, telling my future children their father won’t be Bryson… which meanstheymight never be at all. I can’t imagine having kids with anyone else. I will always compare my life to the one that might’ve been had Bryson wanted me.
If he placed his hand on my leg in the car—if I’m not outright crazy—then maybe it was just something he does. Sleeping with women he shouldn’t, like Eva… and then me.
What does that say about him? Who the hell is he? Why would Adam still want him around?
I stand, deciding to do Adam’s dishes and clean his kitchen to give myself something to focus on. As I work, the smell of cleaning chemicals rises around me, and I can’t stop thinking about it.
The worst part is my body still sings out for Bryson, even if I know I should be able to tame it far easier now. If Bryson’s the sort of man to disrespect Adam like this, to pursue his wife and then his sister… I shouldn’t want him.
Ever. But I do. Forever.
I get on my hands and knees, scrubbing a stubborn stain on the floor, wondering if this is my penance for making Adam so mad. Then my traitor mind makes it so I’m in the future, and Bryson walks in, one of our kids on his shoulders, both of them smiling down at me.
“Hard at work, Mommy?” the boy asks, his voice bright.
“We’re very lucky, son,” Bryson says in his husky voice, hinting at what he’ll want from me later. “Never forget that… we’re very lucky.”
The front door opens. I climb to my feet, glancing at the clock. It’s been almost an hour since Adam left. Not long enough for him to get his usual workout in, but maybe he cut it short.
“Hello?”
Nerves crash into me when I hear Bryson’s voice.
I don’t know what I’m doing.
Acting like a doofus, but it’s too late. I skipped across the room to the pantry. I’m hiding in here, back pressed against the shelving units.
With all this confusion, I can’t see him. I feel the need pulsing inside me, a light that won’t go out, no matter what I learn, no matter how impossible it is.
“Adam?” Bryson calls, walking through the house, his footsteps getting closer.
CHAPTEREIGHT
Bryson
I lay my bag on the table, looking over the divider into the main kitchen area. Many appliances have been moved, with the surfaces shining like somebody was recently cleaning. Or is in themiddleof cleaning?
Adam’s never been the domestic type. Eva always took care of that side of things. I wonder if he’s got a cleaner in.
“Is anybody home?”
The front door was unlocked. Suddenly, alert signals pound in my head. I can’t lose Adam after Eva’s passing. I haven’t apologized for everything I want to do to his sister.
I walk upstairs, checking the rooms. Nobody’s here.
I return to the kitchen, and I hear something in the pantry, the rattle of tins, and then a noise like a tin hitting the hardwood floor. I approach, ready to fight if I need to. If somebody’s broken into my best friend’s house…
