He was never sick.
I lost everything because of him.
“Does he have parents or siblings?” she asks. “Anyone else who would want to come and say goodbye?”
“No.” He has no one. Just me. And he wasn’t going to have me for much longer. “I’ll sign whatever you need me to sign.”
She nods at someone who’s standing outside the room, and they bustle in, showing me where to sign the forms.
“The sooner we’re able to har—retrieve the donation?—”
“You can take him after I have just one minute alone with him.”
She nods and offers me a sympathetic smile. “Take your time, Jules.”
I cross over and bend so my mouth is near his ear.
“I hope you can hear me, wherever you are. I never loved you the way you wanted me to. You stole everything from me. I thought you were my friend, but it turns out you were nothing. I hope you burn in hell.”
With that, I stand and walk out of the room.
Chapter Twenty-Six
BROOKS
All I can think about is the fact that my wife is at home, doing normal everyday things, and I can’t be there with her because I’m at work.
Yeah, I’m a sap. But fuck, I lived without Juliet for fifteen years, and now that I have her back, nothing is better than being with her, even if it’s just to watch her read, or if we’re cleaning the house together.
Normal shit is sexy on my girl.
I love that she’s taking the rest of the day off for herself. Jules is as dedicated to her business as I am to mine, and she puts in long fucking hours. Her work ethic is one of the things that I’ve grown to respect and appreciate the most.
But today, she’s at home, and I’m stuck at work. Normally, I look forward to being at the garage with the guys, but not today.
“Why are you glaring at that manifold?” Gabe asks me.
“I’m going home.”
His eyebrows climb in surprise. “Are you okay?”
“Fine. I just need to go home. There’s nothing here that can’t wait for tomorrow.”
“I’ve got things here,” Gabe agrees. “I’ll see you later. Let me know if you need anything.”
I nod, wash my hands, and then check the time. It’s late afternoon now and rainy outside. The perfect time to strip my wife down and bury myself inside her.
With that goal in mind, I drive home. The storm is a doozy, with thunder and lightning and a shit ton of rain, so I drive slower than normal.
When I walk through the back door, I take a deep breath and grin. I missed Juliet’s candles. She used to burn this same one all the time when we were younger, and it seems that hasn’t changed. It smells … clean. I have no idea what it’s called, but it’s so her.
The washer and dryer are both running in the mudroom as I kick off my boots, and with a grin, I walk through and see the lit candle on the island. The house is quiet, except for the sound of the rain and the storm outside because she’s opened all the windows. It’s chilly, but it smells and sounds fucking awesome.
And then I spot her.
My girl is on the couch, wrapped in a blanket. She’s not reading. Her book lies next to her, unopened. She’s watching the rain, her hands wringing in her lap.
And when I narrow my eyes on her face, I can see that she’s pale. Her eyes are glassy, as if she’s caught in a memory.
