The Life You Stole (Life Duet 2)

“Has he done any rescue stuff recently? Like CPR on anyone?”

Noah shook his head. “Why do you ask that?”

“It’s … nothing.”

“He hasn’t even taught a class for nearly a year. But still, I’m not sure where you’re going with that anyway.”

“Really, it’s nothing. And actually he did teach a class not that long ago. Couple months ago he filled in for … I think he said Andy? A CPR and first aid class in Denver.”

“I filled in for Andy with that class, and it was over six months ago.”

My eyes narrowed.

“I mean …” Noah fumbled his words. “A couple months ago? Yeah, that might have been right too. Andy says yes to everything, but then he backs out at the last minute and begs us to help him out.” He couldn’t keep his gaze on me for more than a few seconds before averting it to anywhere else in the room.

Noah lied. He lied for Ronin.

If Ronin didn’t teach a CPR class that day, then where was he? Or who was he with?

Adrianne.

It wasn’t possible, but it felt like the only logical explanation, the only explanation that didn’t make me look incredibly naive.

Noah said very little while we waited for nearly an hour to see Ronin in the ER. When the nurse took me back, sliding open the glass door, Ronin’s tired gaze shifted right to me.

“You need to call Lila.”

Lila … his scapegoat.

“I did. She’s fine.”

“She’s not—”

“Ronin!” I sighed, hoping no one heard my outburst. “It’s not Lila. I checked. It’s something else. If they say it’s nothing, then I think we need to take you to Denver and have you checked out by better doctors. Something is wrong with you. If you feel like you can’t breathe, that’s a serious problem. Don’t you get that?” I didn’t mean to let so much of my aggravation seep through, but I had nothing left.

Too many unanswered questions.

Too many lies.

Too much disconnect from the man I loved.

Doubt ran amuck in my head, and Ronin did nothing to stop the chaos.

“They already discharged me. We can go home.” He sat up.

I reached to help, but he shook his head. “I’m fine. I’ve got it.”

“So that’s it. You can’t breathe. They run tests. And send you home with nothing. What the hell, Ronin?”

“Not nothing. They wrote me a prescription for an inhaler,” he mumbled his words as he stepped into his jeans, dragging them slowly up his legs. He failed at hiding his weakness.

I pulled them up the rest of the way, giving him a single look when he tried to bat away my hands. On a long sigh of surrender, he let me dress him. I finished tying his boots as he sat on the edge of the bed, legs dangling. When I stood between his spread legs, he pulled me in for a hug, resting one hand on the small of my back and the other hand on the back of my head.

There. Right there … I felt his love. It just felt shackled to something. Like he couldn’t give me all of it.

So much anger brewed inside of me. His touch couldn’t tame that, but it did something. It always did something. And that something brought forth raw emotions that made me say the three words that I’d been feeling since the first time I called 9-1-1 in Ronin’s condo before we were married.

“Please don’t die,” I whispered on a tight sob that clutched my chest and burned my eyes.

We weren’t unbreakable.

I just needed to believe we weren’t unrepairable.

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

Graham

Three hours earlier …

I knew I shut my door. Maybe I didn’t lock it, but my staff didn’t disobey me. Yet clearly someone had ignored my order. As I made my way to fire someone, I noticed Lila’s suitcase parked inside the front door. Before I could pull my phone out of my pocket to check her location, the wavy brunette who cleaned the house—Mindy, Amy, something like that—came down the stairs carrying a bucket of cleaning supplies.

“Sorry, Mr. Porter, I should have carried Mrs. Porter’s suitcase to her room. I got—”

“Is she home?”

“Yes. Her trip was rescheduled.”

“Leave. Now. Ask everyone else to leave as well.” I started up the opposite stairwell.

“Sir, what do you mean—”

“I mean get the fuck out. Tell everyone to get the fuck out and don’t come back until you’re called.”

Well, all my hard work for nothing. I gave Lila permission to go back to work. We ate at her favorite restaurants. I let her wear those stupid short dresses, teasing my cock relentlessly, only to give me a meek whisper of, “I’m not ready,” every time I started to undress in her room. Yet I forced nothing. As her husband, I deserved more respect, but in the spirit of making Evelyn proud of me, I left without a fight and spent a long shower jerking off like pussy husbands who fell for the headache line on a regular basis.