One Day Soon (One Day Soon, #1)(77)

I liked Chris. He could be funny. He was smart and knew random facts about interesting things. He had always been easy to talk to. I had enjoyed his company. For the most part.

But enjoying his company hadn’t been enough for either of us.

I had hurt him. I knew that now. As I had closed myself away, protecting a heart that had already been given away, he had been desperately trying to hand me his.

And I had refused to take it.

“I was looking for my bowling shoes. I think I left them in the hall closet,” Chris stated almost defensively.

His bowling shoes?

Since when did Chris go bowling?

“Cut the crap, Chris. We both know that’s not why you’re here,” I snapped. I was feeling antsy, wanting him to leave. Yoss’s presence hung heavy in the house. Could Chris feel the difference?

Chris sighed and ran a hand through his hair. His roots were starting to show. He was slacking on the hair dye.

“I just want my bowling shoes. No ulterior motive, Imi. I promise. I think we’re both past my pathetic attempts at rebuilding whatever relationship we had. I don’t have it in me to bang my head against that particular wall anymore.” Chris’s words should have hurt. If I had loved him at all they would have.

Maybe there was a twinge deep down.

But it was impossible to find.

“Let me find them for you,” I said, not wanting to get into another argument about our failed marriage. Another round of placing the blame.

“I know where the hall closet is. I can get them myself,” he snapped, all but pushing past me so that he could reach the closet door behind me.

I stood aside as he rooted around my shoes and coats to find the mysterious bowling shoes I had never seen before.

After a few minutes Chris pulled out a pair of bright blue shoes I didn’t remember him buying.

“Here they are,” he announced.

“Huh. I’ve never seen those before,” I commented and then braced myself for the snide remark that was sure to follow. Something about how I never paid attention to him, so it wasn’t surprising. Or how my not realizing he owned a ridiculously ugly pair of bowling shoes was just another indicator of how bad I had been as a wife.

But he didn’t say any of those things. Instead he closed the closet door, tucking the shoes under his arm and turned to me.

“You look good, Imi. Happy almost,” he observed, startling me.

I nervously tucked my hair behind my ears, not quite meeting his eyes. “Thanks,” I muttered.

“Divorce seems to agree with you,” Chris quipped nastily and I relaxed, more comfortable with his bitterness than I was with his complimentary observations.

“Okay, you have your shoes. Is there anything else you need?” I asked, not responding to his obvious bait. Chris wanted an emotional reaction from me. He would poke and prod until he felt like I showed him something. Anything.

“No. I guess that’s it,” he responded shortly.

I felt the guilt. Chris wasn’t a bad guy. He deserved a lot more than a wife who had loved him barely and married him because it seemed to be expected.

I held the door open for him, the night air making me shiver. As Chris walked outside I couldn’t help but give him something.

“I’m sorry,” I said quietly.

Chris stilled for a moment. Hesitated.

And then walked down the porch steps without saying a word.

It was for the best anyway.

I closed the door and turned, nearly jumping out of my skin when I saw Yoss standing there, a strange look on his face.

“The ex,” he stated and I nodded. “He seemed upset.”

“He came for his bowling shoes. No big deal,” I said evasively.

“I can tell it’s not. To you.” He watched me, his green eyes dark. “I can’t imagine loving you so much and knowing you didn’t love me back.”

The guilt I had felt only minute earlier overwhelmed me.

“I’m glad,” Yoss went on.

“You’re glad about what?” I asked.

“That you never gave your heart to anyone else.”

Never.

Yoss cleared his throat and looked away, leaving me shaken. “I’m pretty tired, if it’s okay, I think I’m going to turn in.”

That was it. He dropped that bomb and then left me with the aftermath. He was so confusing.

“Oh, yeah, that’s fine. Of course. There are clean towels in the bathroom if you want a shower. Though I’m pretty sure the only shampoo I have smells like berries. Nothing manly I’m afraid.” I was blathering again.

Yoss shrugged. “Berries are fine. Thanks. I’ll, uh, I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Okay,” I said softly as he walked back down the hall towards the guest room. He hesitated before going inside, his hand on the doorknob before going inside.

I listened to the sound of the click as he closed the door between us.



I barely slept that night.

Yoss’s familiar screams kept me from dreaming. His nightmares still plagued him. And I still could only listen helplessly while his demons devoured him one memory at a time.

I stood outside his door, my palm pressed against the wood, wishing I could go inside and hold him the way I used to. But I knew I couldn’t. Not yet.

One day I hoped he wouldn’t lock the door between us.