Page 15 of Faded Rhythm

She leaves the kitchen, walking ahead of me with that controlled stride, her bare feet slapping against the hardwood, her hips swaying just enough to make my thoughts stray again. I rub the back of my neck as I follow her down the hall. The house is cooler back here. Quieter. But there’s a heaviness in the air. Maybe old secrets and lies.

This house looks like it’s seen some shit.

She opens the door. “This is Brett’s study.”

The lights are off, but she doesn’t bother with the switch. The afternoon sun streams though half-closed blinds, throwing slanted shadows across the room. She walks over to the desk, rubbing her arms like she’s cold.

“I can’t believe this is happening,” she mutters.

I close the door behind us, then take a seat in the chair opposite the desk.

“If I’m gonna help you, I need to understand some things,” I say, voice rougher now. “Why would he want you gone? Be honest with me.”

“I am,” she insists, her eyes darting. “I have no idea.”

“That’s not good enough,” I snap. “No affairs? No debts? Nothing you’re hiding?”

Her eyes flash. “Of course there are no affairs. I would never cheat on my husband.”

“What about money?”

She waves a hand, dismissing that. “I’m worth way more to him alive, believe me. Financiallyandsocially.”

We haven’t gotten to that, yet, but we will.

“We have policies on each other, but Brett already has money.”

She shakes her head like she realizes how ridiculous that sounds. Unscrupulous people are never satisfied with what they have.

“Could he be cheating onyou?”

She snickers, sharp and bitter. “How the hell would he do that? He can’t even—“

She stops.

I tilt my head slowly. “Can’t what?”

She looks away.

I bite back a smirk.

Sothat’show it is.

This fine ass woman in front of me lays in a cold bed at night while her husband plots her demise.

That shit is tragic.

The silence hangs between us, thick and charged. I can feel her thinking. Regretting.I shouldn’t have said thatrunning on loop in her mind.

The she gasps, “Shit!”

She bolts from the room. My instincts kick in before my brain can catch up. I’m right behind her, my heart thudding hard.

Is she running? Did I just fuck up somehow?

But when I hit the kitchen entryway, she’s bent over the girls’ backpacks, rifling through them like a woman possessed.

Rae and Kelice stare at her, wide-eyed and nervous.

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