V just shook his head. He couldn’t imagine telling his shellan he wanted to be hurt physically. It would kill her. And he absolutely didn’t want her to see him like this. “Look, I’m going to take care of this myself. All of it.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of, V.” Butch swallowed the rest of his Scotch on a oner. “That’s . . . our biggest problem.”
Jane was watching her patient sleep when her cell phone went off in her pocket. It wasn’t a call, but a text from V: Am home & goin 2 forge 2 wrk. Hw P? & u?
Her exhale was not about relief. He’d come back about ten minutes before full-on sunrise, and he wasn’t seeing her or his sister?
Screw this, she thought, as she stood up and walked out of the recovery suite.
After doing a handoff to Ehlena, who was in the clinic’s exam room updating the Brothers’ files, Jane marched down the corridor, hung a left into the office, and went out the back of the supply closet. No reason to futz around with the lock codes; she just ghosted through—
And there he was, about twenty yards down the tunnel, walking away from her . . . having passed the training center on his way to go even deeper into the mountain.
The fluorescent ceiling lights illuminated him from over his head, hitting his huge shoulders and his heavy lower body. Going by the gloss, his hair looked wet, and the lingering scent of the soap he always used was the confirmation that he’d just showered.
“Vishous.”
She said his name once, but the tunnel was an echo chamber that batted the syllables back and forth, multiplying them.
He stopped.
That was the only response she got.
After waiting for him to say something, to turn around . . . to acknowledge her, she discovered something new about her ghostly state: Even though she wasn’t technically alive, her lungs could still burn sure as if she were suffocating.
“Where did you go tonight,” she said, not expecting an answer.
And she didn’t get one. But he’d halted right under a ceiling fixture, so even from a distance she could see his shoulders tightening up.
“Why aren’t you turning around, Vishous.”
Dear God . . . what had he done at the Commodore? Oh, Jesus . . .
Funny, there was a reason that people “built” lives together. Although the choices you made as husband and wife were not bricks, and time was not mortar, you were still constructing something tangible and real. And right now, as her hellren refused to come over to her—hell, even show her his face—an earthquake was rumbling under what she had thought was solid ground.
“What did you do tonight,” she choked out.
At that, he pivoted on his heel and took two long steps toward her. But it wasn’t to get close. It was to step out of the direct light. Even still . . .
“Your face,” she gasped.
“I got into a fight with some lessers.” As she went to move forward, he held up his palm. “I’m fine. I just need some space right now.”
Something about this was off, she thought. And she hated the question that jumped into her mind—to the point where she refused to let it out.
Except then all they had was silence.
“How’s my sister?” he said abruptly.
Through a closed throat, she replied, “She’s resting comfortably still. Ehlena’s with her.”
“You should take some time off and have a rest.”
“I will.” Uh-huh, right. With things like this between them, she was never going to sleep again.
V dragged his gloved hand through his hair. “I don’t know what to say right now.”
“Were you with someone else?”