Page 12 of Forgiveness River

“I stopped taking the pill like we talked about.” She turned back to face him, a confession that hung in the air between them. “Three months ago. You haven’t touched me since then. We’ve never gone that long without sex.” Her voice broke slightly, betraying the depth of her hurt. “Why wouldn’t I think that you’d been getting it from somewhere else? Explain why my logic is so far off base.”

He hadn’t realized. The thought crashed through him with devastating force. Three months of opportunities for a miracle, while he’d been crawling through the underbrush, watching drug deals and gathering evidence.

He felt the anger brewing inside him. He didn’t know where it came from, and he knew it wasn’t justified. But he couldn’t help it.

“How could we bring a child into this?” He gestured between them, at the invisible chasm that had opened beneath their feet. He was defensive, but he didn’t know how else to respond. The shame of his accusation darkened his face, making him appear guilty of the very thing he hadn’t done. “How could we bring a child into whatever this has become?”

“This.” Her voice hardened. “This is a marriage, Wyatt. Or it was. But a marriage needs trust. It needs presence. It needs both people fighting for it.” Her hands clenched at her sides, knuckles white with tension. “I’ve been fighting alone for months.”

The truth hovered on his tongue—about the full extent of the operation, about his deep undercover status, about the promise of just two more weeks. But the words remained unspoken, locked behind the oath he’d sworn and the knowledge that such information could put her in danger. If Moss or his people ever suspected Wyatt’s true allegiance, they wouldn’t hesitate to useanyone close to him as leverage. Including his beautiful, fierce wife.

“I can’t explain now,” he said finally, the words inadequate even to his own ears. “But it won’t be like this forever. I promise.”

“Empty promises.” Raven shook her head, a tear finally escaping to trace a silver path down her cheek. “That’s all you give me anymore. And what about this?” Raven pulled the folded receipt from her pocket, the paper worn from being taken out and refolded countless times over the past few days. She placed it on the kitchen island between them, her hand trembling slightly.

Wyatt’s eyes flickered to the paper. Mountain View Lodge. The motel on the outskirts of Riverton that rented rooms by the hour.

“That’s not what you think,” he said, his voice tight.

“Really?” Raven’s laugh was brittle. “Because what I think is pretty straightforward, Wyatt. Most people don’t need a motel room twenty minutes from their own home unless they’re meeting someone they don’t want others to see.”

He reached for the receipt, but she snatched it back, holding it like evidence in a trial—which in many ways, it was.

“Where did you find this?” he asked.

“In your jacket pocket. When I was doing laundry.” Her voice caught. “The jacket you wore three nights ago when you told me you were working late at the station.”

Wyatt’s jaw worked as he seemed to weigh his words carefully. “I was meeting someone, yes. But not for the reasons you’re thinking.”

“Then what reasons, Wyatt? What possible explanation could there be?” She could hear the desperation in her own voice, hated it, but couldn’t stop it. “Just tell me the truth. Please.”

For a moment—just a moment—something shifted in his expression. A crack in the wall. His eyes met hers, and she saw anguish there that matched her own.

Then it was gone, sealed behind the mask he’d been wearing for months.

“I can’t,” he said, the words clearly costing him. “Not yet. Raven—” He reached for her again, but she stepped back, putting the island between them once more. The physical barrier mirrored the emotional one, too wide to cross with a simple touch.

“No.” Her voice was steady now, though her hands trembled. “I can’t do this anymore. I can’t keep pretending everything’s fine when you come home with pine needles in your clothes instead of the smell of the station. I can’t keep smiling at your family when they ask where you are, making excuses they don’t believe any more than I do.” She drew a shuddering breath. “How do I keep loving someone who isn’t here?”

The words struck like physical blows, each one finding its mark with devastating accuracy. She wasn’t just talking about his physical absence—she was talking about the emotional fortress he’d constructed around himself, the walls he’d built to protect her that were now keeping her out.

“Two weeks.” He spoke before he could stop himself, the promise tearing from somewhere deep in his chest. “Give me two more weeks. Then this will all make sense.”

“Two weeks for what?” Hope and suspicion warred in her expression. He stepped forward, closing the distance between them. This time, she didn’t retreat.

“I can’t tell you. Not yet. But I swear on everything I am, everything we’ve been, I’m not…” He swallowed hard, the next words bitter on his tongue. “I’m not cheating on you. I would never.”

Raven studied his face, searching for the truth. The first light of dawn caught the tears clinging to her lashes, transforming them into diamonds. “Then what is it? Because something is happening, Wyatt. Something big enough to tear us apart.”

He took her hands, feeling her slender fingers cold against his palms. Once, he would have brought them to his lips, would have warmed them with his breath and his love. Now, he simply held them, like fragile birds he feared might fly away. The colorful tattoos on his forearms—testament to his service and his roots—stood in stark contrast to her pale skin.

“I’m asking you to trust me. One last time.” His voice roughened with emotion held in check too long. “Two weeks. And then I’ll tell you everything about this operation.”

The kitchen fell silent save for the ticking clock and their uneven breathing. The morning light strengthened, casting long shadows across the floor—a fitting metaphor for the darkness stretching between them.

“Two weeks,” she finally whispered, neither a promise nor a rejection. “But Wyatt?” Her eyes met his, clear and direct as the mountain dawn breaking outside their window. “If there’s nothing at the end of those two weeks—no explanation, no truth—then I don’t know if I’ll still be here.”

She slipped her hands from his grasp and moved past him, the scent of jasmine lingering in her wake. The stairs creaked beneath her feet, and moments later, the soft click of their bedroom door closing echoed through the empty house. Wyatt stood alone in the kitchen, dawn’s full light now streaming through the windows, illuminating the space they’d once filled with laughter and love and dreams. Two weeks to save his career. Two weeks to save his marriage.

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