The Life You Stole (Life Duet 2)

Next, I texted Sue to let her know that Noah would be there to relieve her and watch the kids while I grabbed some groceries. She wouldn’t know how long Noah was there, so the chances of her mentioning it to Evie were pretty slim.

I slipped my phone into my pocket and climbed off the bed. “I don’t know what to say.” I twisted my mouth, giving Lila a slight cringe.

She latched her hands behind her back and shrugged. “There’s nothing you have to say.”

I felt so fucking good—so normal—the guilt didn’t stand a chance. It wasn’t like I did anything truly inappropriate with Lila. Over and over I reminded myself, convinced my conscience, that her touch wasn’t anything more intimate than getting a massage from a therapist.

It felt good.

I didn’t want it to end.

And I’d leave feeling like a whole new person … even though it wouldn’t last.

“How do you feel?” she asked.

“Frustrated that Evie won’t be home when I get there, but hopeful that this good feeling will hold on until she does get home.”

Three hours. I had three hours in Lila’s embrace. In the world of energy and unexplainable phenomena, that had to mean something. Right? Like charging a battery. I hoped I was leaving with a full charge of whatever the hell Lila gave me just by touching me.

“I hope so too.” Lila smiled and averted her gaze, like all of a sudden she felt shy around me.

“How do you feel? I don’t want you to feel bad or guilty or … anything negative about this … about us.”

She shook her head, keeping her gaze averted. “I don’t. I feel … strong.”

“What do you mean?”

Her eyes shifted to my face. “Graham makes me feel weak. Sick, broken, and weak.”

I frowned. “Have you told him that?”

She grunted. “No. I think he needs it to feel strong. You know? I think he likes to feel like I depend on him. He is the giver. I am the taker. But I feel like you need something from me, and it feels …” Lila drew in a shaky breath, the essence of tears glistening in her eyes for a few blinks. “It feels incredible to feel needed.”

I took the opportunity to hug her again because I thought she needed it, and she was right—I definitely needed her.

“Thank you,” I murmured. “You are needed.”

“Go.” She stepped back and took a deep breath, releasing it with a smile. “Go home to your family. Go love my best friend. I think she’s felt neglected.”

My eyes narrowed. “Did she tell you that?”

“Not in those exact words.” Lila’s nose wrinkled. “Just … show her how much you love her and need her. Okay.”

I nodded slowly. “Yeah. I can do that.”

Thanks to Lila … I could do that.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Evelyn

I took a Lyft home, grateful that the next day was Saturday, Sophie was handling the store, and Ronin had the day off to take care of the kids if I had a hangover to nurse. It wasn’t that I was plastered, but it had been a long time since I’d had anything to drink. Being a responsible shop owner, a mom, and a wife to a man who no longer wanted to touch me didn’t leave time to enjoy a glass of wine or six.

Then there was Graham—my owner. The warden of my life. The Grim Reaper.

His confession.

His threat.

Him.

I had better judgment than that. There was no way he was the same guy I met in college. Something happened to him, turning him into a villain, a rabid animal that needed to be put down. Only … he had me cornered at every turn, holding my best friend hostage. And Ronin? Well, I didn’t know what Graham might do to him.

A little before midnight, I turned the key to the door and slipped inside, closing it behind me and wobbling a bit to get my shoes off without falling into anything. I ambled to the sink and filled a glass with water, gulping down copious amounts along with a packet of natural remedy stuff Tami gave me—some sort of electrolyte and liver cleansing concoction. She swore it would prevent a hangover. I hoped so.

With my clumsy, inebriated version of tiptoeing, I made my way to the closet to grab some clean panties and a nightshirt. Feeling a need that hadn’t been met in a long time, I eased the closet door shut and opened a shoe box of a pair of ankle boots and retrieved my old pink friend, Madonna. She had batteries in her.

Her.

Yes, my vibrator was a her, and her name was Madonna. A true, trustworthy friend like Lila, not an actual dick like Graham. And sadly, Madonna was the only one there to meet my needs since my husband was unable to get and sustain an erection for me.