His lips twitch like he wants to answer, but his whole body just… sags.
He’s so fucking tired.
And I’m so damn scared of what would’ve happened if I hadn’t shown up tonight. What if he hit his head on the side of the tub and bled out before I got there?
“Baby,” I whisper, leaning closer, “you can’t keep this up anymore. Not with what it’s doing to you. I know we don’t know each other apart from this past week, but why didn’t you reach out to me?”
He lets out a shaky breath, eyes barely open now.
“Didn’t… want to be a burden,” he mumbles.
And that just about destroys me.
“Never a burden, pretty boy,” I say, trying like hell to keep my voice calm and steady. “I’m your husband, remember? It’s my honor and fucking privilege to help you.”
Eli’s lips twitch up in a tiny smile, but his eyes stay closed. He looks too tired to lift them even if he wanted to.
“You’re not actually my husband,” he reminds me. “Did you really not sleep with that woman?”
Oh, we’re back tothistopic, huh?
“I had every intention,” I admit, refusing to let go when he tries to pull his hand from mine. “I wanted to get you out of my head. Thought focusing on someone else for a while would work… it didn’t.”
“Why am I in your head?” he asks softly, voice worn thin.
“Why did you overwork yourself?” I counter.
“Why didn’t your dick work?” he fires back, smirking even with his eyes shut.
“Why are you so fucking cute?”
That gets him. His eyes fly open, wide despite how exhausted he is.
“You think I’m cute?” he asks, like it’s the most shocking thing he’s ever heard.
“I don’t call you pretty boy for no reason,” I tell him.
“That woman was beautiful,” he says. “I thought I was straight for a second when I first saw her.”
I laugh, shaking my head. “Yeah. She is beautiful.”
“And that contractor who came to plan out the remodel,” he adds. “The one who kept brushing up against you.”
Noticed that, did he?
“He was very sexy,” Eli finishes.
“Mmmhmm,” I hum, caressing the inside of his wrist with my thumb.
“Sexy and beautiful…” he mumbles, eyes closing again, his voice fading at the edges. “Both of those are far better than cute and pretty.”
Ah. Now it clicks.
The jealousy. The insecurity. The way he’s been looking at me and then away, like he isn’t sure he’s allowed to want anything.
The way he thinks “cute” and “pretty” makes himlessin some way.
I lean in, brushing my knuckles along his cheek, and he melts into the touch like he hasn’t been touched gently in years.
