The Life You Stole (Life Duet 2)

Her smile left her face, replaced with knitted eyebrows and wrinkles etched into her forehead. “I’m not going to let my pain burden you.”

I felt her on too many levels for her to be able to say that to me with any certainty or true conviction. The elephant in the room squeezed between us, staring us both in the face until the awkwardness reached a suffocating level.

“About yesterday …”

“No.” Her head shook on repeat. “That was on me. I needed someone to embrace me without expecting something in return. And I didn’t let go because I let myself believe that you needed something from me too. Which is ridiculous because—”

“It’s …” I sighed, squeezing my eyes shut for a few seconds. “It’s not ridiculous, Lila. When we touched, I felt …”

Good?

How could I say that? That sounded creepy. Her best friend’s husband feeling good in the arms of a woman who wasn’t his wife.

How messed-up was that? Saying it aloud wasn’t going to make it sound any better.

“You felt what?” she whispered.

“Nothing.” I glanced up at her. Lila resembled Evie in so many ways, including the innocence in her blue eyes that screamed for the world to just be kind … just be fair. It shouldn’t have been me keeping her secret. It should have been Evie comforting her lifelong friend. “I felt no pain. I felt no connection to you. I felt normal. But I only felt that way because we were touching. When I released you the first time, that peace lingered for a little while. When I released you the second time, it lasted even longer.”

Lila hugged herself, shoulders turned inward.

“It’s okay.” I rested my hands on my knees, drumming my fingers. “You don’t have to believe me. If it weren’t happening to me, I sure wouldn’t believe me. And I’m not trying to make you uncomfortable.”

Her eyes glossed over into a blank stare, aimed in the vicinity of my shoulder. I stood, opting to stop talking before I said anymore. Lila didn’t need my problems. Turning toward the hallway, I took two steps and stopped. Lila’s hand rested on my shoulder with my back to her. My eyes closed …

The ringing stopped.

The sorrow melted.

The pain vanished.

I drew in a shaky breath as her arms snaked around my torso, her warm cheek against my back. It felt like God himself embracing me. The good God. Not the one who cursed me. My hands inched up to cover hers. Once again, we stood idle, giving in to the unexplainable, feeding an undefinable need. With each touch, we crossed a barrier into a world that didn’t feel real because Evie and our kids were my life, the only reality I ever wanted. Yet, touching Lila felt right and good.

Not painkiller good.

Not sexually good.

Not even Evie good.

Touching Lila felt good like my legs carrying my body, my heart circulating blood, my lungs claiming air. When we touched, I didn’t feel her. I felt me.

Only me.

Truth? I wanted Lila to give me back what she took or take back what she gave me. I didn’t know. I just knew that something fit when we touched.

It’s wrong.

I knew it was at the very least, a little wrong, yet I didn’t want her to let me go. The longer she held me, the longer I would feel normal for Evie and the kids.

“Lila?” Graham called.

Without a word or glance at each other, Lila released me and I walked toward the bedroom.

“Yes?” Her voice echoed as she padded down the hallway in the opposite direction toward their bedroom.

“Did you move my hair gel?”

She replied with a barely audible, “No.”

The kids were on the king bed, still sleeping in spite of Evie running the hairdryer in the bathroom. I slid open the paneled door, glancing over my shoulder to see if the kids stirred.

They didn’t.

My beautiful wife shot me a sideways glance and a blinding smile to go with it. “I fell asleep with a wet head,” she said while turning off the blow-dryer.

I locked the door and grinned at her.

No ringing in my ears.

No feelings of depression.

No pain.

Her gaze flitted to my hand that turned the lock. “They’ll wake up any second, Mr. Alexander.” The way her eyebrow quirked into a crooked peak did nothing to help her case. It reminded me of all the things I loved about Evelyn Alexander.

In some ways it broke a tiny part of my heart too. Just minutes earlier, her best friend touched me … took away my pain. But it didn’t make me want Lila. It made me want my wife. That had to mean something. That had to be what mattered most.

“You won’t let me say what I want to say …” I took two steps in her direction. She looked like an angel booted out of Heaven—a wicked grin, nearly white messy hair, and a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. “So I have to show you.” I grabbed her waist and jerked her into my body. The brush from her hand fell to the tile.