Page 97 of Whispers in the Dark
I’mterrified.
I stop just a few feet from her, the wall of mirrors stretching beside us, reflecting every tense movement. Crossing my arms over my chest, I watch, quietly, as she pours everything she has into the punching bag that looks like it might collapse under her fury at any second.
Then, suddenly, she stills.
Her chest heaves with effort as she places her palms on the bag. Leaning forward, she rests her forehead against the smooth material, removing the headphones from her ears and dropping them to the floor beside her.
“What is wrong with me?” she whispers to herself, catching me off guard.
Not a damn thingis what I want to say. Instead, I grunt, and the effect is immediate. She jumps, yelping, spinning around. Her back presses against the bag, one hand clutching her chest as her wide eyes lock on mine, startled.
“Oh, Mauro,” she breathes, her voice barely above a whisper. She swallows hard, dragging the back of her forearm across her face. “Umm…how long have you been here?”
I shrug as she looks away.
But she’s not fast enough for me to miss it.
The wetness coating her cheeks.
The redness in her eyes.
I step toward her, my hand wrapping around her chin with gentleness as I tilt her face upward. The tears in her eyes are likea sucker punch to the gut. And I want to know, no, I need to know why they’re there.
My thumb brushes across her cheek, catching the loose tears she can’t hold back. She shivers slightly at the touch, her eyes lowering. Sniffling, she shakes herself out of my grip, twisting to leave, but I stop her, my fingers curling around her wrist.
“Let me go,” she pleads quietly.
And normally, I would. I would respect her wishes and allow her the freedom she’s seeking. But not right now.
I spin her gently into my arms, holding her against me. Her big brown eyes lock onto mine, wide and searching, and I can see the war behind them.
My brows draw together as she looks away, biting her bottom lip like she’s trying to keep everything inside her.
I hold her a little tighter, the world narrowing to just the two of us in that room, the heat of her shivering body pressing against mine, the quiet sound of her ragged breathing echoing in my chest.
What’s going on inside her head?
“I know you want me to tell you what’s wrong.” She shakes her head, voice trembling. “But I…” Her words falter, small and broken, as if admitting anything aloud would shatter her completely. And I don’t like it. Not one fucking bit.
I lift my hands, cradling her face, feeling the warmth of her skin beneath my palms. Our foreheads press together, and I let the quiet settle for a heartbeat before forcing the words out with everything I have. “Trust…me.”
But those two words cause an avalanche of tears to slip down her cheeks.
She closes her eyes, as if trying to gather herself, and steps out of my reach. But she doesn’t walk away. She simply turns away from me, staring at her reflection in the mirror while winding her arms protectively around herself.
“Joey drove through the center of town on the way home from the Women and Children’s Center.” Her gaze meets mine. “We came to a stop at a red light, and I looked out my window, and I saw…” Her eyes flit down. “You.”
Me?But I was…
“You were walking out of The Starlake Hotel, holding the door open for a beautiful woman.” She rolls in her bottom lip. “I watched as she said something to you and then I watched as you…” More tears fill her eyes. “You smiled at her. And you never smile at anyone.” She waves a dismissive hand before lifting her glasses to swipe a finger beneath her eyes. “I’m overreacting, I know. And I know this marriage is temporary. I know we have an end date. But I thought…” Her shoulders slump, her head dropping forward. “I’m so embarrassed.” Her voice breaks, and a small, nervous laugh slips past her lips, a pink flush crawling up her neck. “I mean, I have no reason to be jealous. You’re allowed to do whatever you want in this marriage. And here I am blabbing away like an idiot with a claim on my fake husband.”
She’s…jealous?The statement leaves me dumbfounded, but also slightly…pleased.
“When I got home, adrenaline was still racing through me,” she continues, her eyes glossy. “I came down here to…to let it out.” She turns and looks at me, pain dancing across her irises. “Please, just forget I said anything.”
But I can’t.
How could I?
