Page 61 of Tainted Tempos

“Of what?” I press.

“Of losing myself in you. Of losing myself in our marriage. In my trauma. Of just not being able to step up for myself the way I need to. For years, I relied on just me. And sometimes, fine, I sucked at it, but I know I could count on myself.” She lifts her head to meet my eyes. “You made my life easier, better, happier, and healthier in so many ways but somewhere along the line, I forgot how to stand on my own two feet.”

“That’s not true, Mckenna. Youarestanding on your own two feet.”

“I’m not, Mav.” She looks at me. Really looks at me and lets me see the demons she’s battling, the pain she’s drowning in, the fear that has reigned for too damn long. “I need to feel whole. I need to know that I’m enough for myself before I’ll be a good partner in our marriage. I’ve dragged you into all my shit?—”

“I want to?—”

“And all it’s done is put distance between us,” she continues. “For the past two weeks, I’ve been terrified every single day on campus. And you’ve been orchestrating security and God knows what else. And we didn’t tell each other. Oh, I started seeing a therapist,” she tacks on, tossing a hand in my direction, “and I didn’t want to tell you until I had more answers. That’s not trusting each other. That’s not the marriage we promised to try for.”

Her anger has been replaced by heartache. She blinks, and a quiet resignation fills her expression. The aloofness thatshudders over her irises terrifies me more than her rage. Instead, I want her fury.

I don’t fucking want this. “Mckenna,” I say as if it will stop whatever she says next.

“I can’t do this right now.” She drops the bomb. Shakes her head. “I need some time, Mav. I just, I need a few days to process. To think.”

“Mckenna, please, let’s talk about this. Let me?—”

“You’ve done more than enough, Maverick,” she says earnestly. “I never would have made it this far without you. I love you. I’m in love with you. But I want to be able to trust myself. And you. And have you trust me. And clearly, we’re not there yet. So please, just give me a few days. Let me have some time and space.”

Time and space?

I rock back in my seat as if she shoved me. Fuck, I wish she did.

“Mckenna—”

“Please, Mav,” she murmurs, not allowing me to finish a goddamn sentence.

I sigh and stand on shaky legs. “I’ll be back tomorrow. At least let me take you home and then you can have all the time you need to process. Think. You’re my wife, Mckenna.”

A bark scrapes from her throat. She rubs a hand over her face. “Some wife I turned out to be, huh?”

“The best wife,” I say seriously. I touch her hand, and she flips her fingers over to grasp mine.

“Time and space,” she repeats, pulling in a fortifying breath. “Good night, Maverick.”

I stare at her for a long moment. I wrack my brain for ways to make it up to her. I come up empty-fucking-handed.

Always a screw-up when I’m needed the most.

I nod, accepting her decision even though I don’t agree with it.

Fine, I messed up. But can’t she see it’s because I care about her? Am in fucking love with her? Doesn’t she get what’s happened between us?

We got married, and somewhere along the line, I fell for her. I tried to save her. To shield her. And okay, maybe I tried too fucking hard. But isn’t that better than not trying hard enough?

“Good night, Mckenna.” I squeeze her fingers once before dropping her hand and moving toward the door.

Pulling it open, I glance over my shoulder one last time.

Mckenna has already turned away. She stares at the wall as if it’s decorated with an exciting mural instead of painted the hospital’s preferred paint color—bland eggshell white.

She doesn’t mean what she says. Right now, she’s hurt and angry.

Tomorrow will be better. I’ll check in with her tomorrow.

I cross the threshold and close the door firmly behind me.

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