Frayed Silk(4)

“Upstairs. They’ve just taken a shower, and they’re waiting for you.”

He grunts, tossing the unwanted junk mail and envelopes into the trash and heading out of the kitchen.

“Wait, please,” I croak.

He stops but doesn’t turn around to face me.

“Charlie had a fight with a boy at school today.”

He turns around then, his eyes landing on me for the first time since he got home. But his features stay hard, his stance almost tense as he looks at me.

“Is he hurt?” he asks.

I shake my head. “No, at least not physically. But Sophie said that he got pretty angry with one of the boys in their class. He’s acting like it’s no big deal, and he won’t talk to me.” I run a hand through my hair. “Can you …?” I trail off.

“I’ll talk to him.” He leaves, and I stand here, thinking I should feel relieved that he said he would. But I just feel … drained. Like that brief conversation shouldn’t have expended the emotional energy it did.

Deciding to run myself a bath, I head upstairs and hear soft murmurs come from our son’s bedroom as I walk past his closed door. Stripping my clothes off, I grab a pair of panties, sleep shorts, and a t-shirt before locking myself in the bathroom and waiting as the big corner bath fills with hot, bubbly water.

Climbing in, I tie my hair up on top of my head and slide down until the water covers my shoulders. I leave the water running—better to hide the sound of the impending sobs clawing their way up my throat. I don’t often do this. Wallowing in self-pity isn’t usually my style. The sad thing is, I probably don’t need to do this nearly as much as I used to.

But tonight, the hurt needs to be let out again.

So I let it out, holding a washcloth up to my mouth to muffle the sound of my heart breaking for the thousandth time over the past seven months.

It’s moments like these, as hot tears race each other down my cheeks, I beg my heart to hate him.

But it’s a damn fool because it never listens to me.





“Morning, Blondie,” Jared says, walking over to me as I pull the bags from the trunk to take inside, one of them being Fiona’s.

Jared’s tall, at least six-foot-one with dark, slicked back brown hair and matching stubble, plus the most mischievous grin that I’ve ever seen on a man. He’s also got to be at least five years younger than I am. And the fact that I’m married hasn’t deterred him either. Which yeah, not going to lie, kind of makes me feel good. And I need all the good I can get these days.

“Hey.” I struggle to close the trunk with my hands full, trying to use my back and ass. He chuckles, grabbing some bags from me and freeing a hand for me to close it and lock the car. I’m in a pretty rough part of the city of Rayleigh, so leaving the car unlocked is not an option.

“How’re you doing?” His eyes probe my face, which I’m sure is a little puffy from last night’s crying jig.

“Great,” I lie. “You? Have you been behaving?” I arch a brow at him.

He winks at me as we near the doors to the shelter. “Define behaving.” His handsome face lights up with his grin.

I snort. “Never mind.”

He hip bumps me. “Now, now, Blondie. You know you’re the only one for me.”

That makes me laugh. We walk inside, and I pass the bags over to Glenda, who thanks me and wishes us a good morning before she opens them up to sort through them.

Jared follows me into the kitchen after we both sign in and wash our hands. We then spend a minute pulling our hair nets and aprons on.

He’s here on account of needing to complete his community service hours whereas I’m here because I want to be.

My mom raised me without my dad around. I knew him, sure, but rarely saw him, and he died when I was a teenager. Mom often went without basic things like food when times were tough with money, opting to make sure I was taken care of first. We came here to this very same women’s shelter quite a few times. My mom would put in several hours volunteering so we could have food in our stomachs during those tough periods.

So even though my husband is loaded, I still find it hard to think of myself that way. Don’t get me wrong; I’m more than grateful for everything he’s provided for us. It’s more than I ever dared to dream of. But I’d trade it all in in a heartbeat if it meant he’d come back to me.

Jared suddenly laughs, reaching over to fix my hair net.

“What?” I frown.

“Nothing,” he mutters, stroking a finger down my cheek. I blush and move away farther into the kitchen to start preparing lunch. Being that it’s a half an hour’s drive to Rayleigh, I can usually only stay a few hours. Then I have to head back to Bonnets Bay so I can get a few things done before I need to pick up the kids.

“Okay, so seeing as you won’t let me take you out to dinner, have coffee with me.”

I pause while cutting up some carrots. “Jared.” I smirk down at the food. “We’ve been over this. You know I’m married.”

I go back to chopping.

He sighs dramatically. “Yes, you’ve told me. Three times already.”

“So why do you keep asking me?” I can’t help it. I’m curious.

He moves in closer to my side. “Because I can smell a broken heart from a mile away, Blondie. And you”—he points a peeler at me—“reek of it.”