Page 20 of Reclaiming Izabel

She squinted. “The car alarm.”

I nodded, unrepentant. At all.

Her face flamed red as she stared up at the ceiling and then back at me. “Unbelievable.”

“Aren’t you gonna ask why I faked my death?”

Izabel shook her head. “No.” Her shoulders hunched. “I know it’s a good reason. I know you thought it was the right decision at that time, but I don’t want to hear it yet.” Tears filled her eyes again. “I don’t want to hear the reason that had me wishing I’d died too.”

“Izabel—”

“But I had to be strong because I was pregnant.” She watched me closely and whatever she saw on my face made her add, “You knew.”

Crippling pain at the loss resurfaced, and all I could do was nod.

“I lost her.”

I strained to hear her, but the haunted look on her face said it all. My death and losing the baby had destroyed the woman I loved. To what extent, it was hard to tell. But I couldn’t stand not holding her and reached for her, but she shied away. Her entire stance screamed,“Do not touch me!”

“Three years.” She scrutinized my face, lingering on my beard, her lips parting when it rested on the scars at my neck that disappeared under the beard. “You’re different.”

“You always liked me with a beard.” I grinned.

“I’m not sure we’re the same people.”

My smile fell. I promised myself that I would be patient with her, but fuck if it was easier thought than done.

“It’s a good thing you came back today.” Her back appeared stiff and her expression wasn’t exactly as welcoming as her words. “I woke up this morning determined that I was moving on.”

“With whom? Kyle?” I spat.

“You’ve been spying on me this whole time,” she snapped. “My life was hell, and you were spectating? And yes, I was hoping to move on. Not necessarily with Kyle, but with my life.”

“Some kind of homecoming you have for me, baby.” I sneered. Jealousy surged. Patience forgotten.

Izabel raised her hands in surrender. She looked so exhausted. Overwhelmed. The bossy husband in me wanted to take over, but I scrounged back some of my self-control.

“Sorry,” I muttered.

“I need to wrap my mind around this,” she said. “Before we say things we’ll regret.” She gave me her back. “Your things are in the attic. Your guns are in the safe in my office. There’s a hotel?—”

“I’m not staying in some damn hotel. I’m staying right here.”

Her shoulders rose and deflated. “I’ll fix up the guest room.”

She walked away without looking back.

I stood in the middle of the room with a strong desire to smash something in the unfamiliar surroundings my wife called home. It wasn’t the reunion I envisioned. Sure, I expected tears. Sure, I expected her anger. I expected Izabel pounding on mychest, railing at me for my decision. But I’d grab her face and kiss her tears away.

I didn’t expect this automaton she’d become. I fished my phone out and swiped a number.

The phone rang twice.

“Didn’t go well?”

Hank’s statement grated on my nerves. The last thing I needed was my friend to sayI told you so.

“She’s not happy.”

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