Page 91 of The Refiner

I’m taking that as a good sign.

“It’s a movie you won’t like, so you might as well doze off while I watch it.” The man was sedated, had an allergic reaction, and then had more drugs pumped into him, all to go home swollen and in pain. He needs to rest like yesterday, which I feel like he’s going to fight me on, but then his hand slides across the bed, finding mine, and intertwining our fingers.

His eyes are closed, and I think he’s dozing off until he turns his head toward me, opening his tired eyes and locking them onto mine. “Stay.”

I don’t know if he’s talking about staying in the bed with him or in a forever sense, which would be crazy. Just because I think I’m in love with Astor, doesn’t mean he feels the same—at least he hasn’t said anything to indicate otherwise. Neither have I, if we’re getting technical here, but still. Astor and I have been through something traumatic. It’s probably best if we take things slow. Staying forever would be rash. Astor’s career and family are here, my career is in Fairfield, three hours away. Not that we couldn’t pull off a long-distance thing, but knowing me and my suspicious nature and hatred of men, we’d only end up fighting every day until we called it quits.

Neither of us deserves that sort of ending. We’ve been through too much together to let it end badly and cause things to be awkward for Tatum. We have to think about her and her future with both of us in her life. A relationship could cause problems.

And besides, now is not the time to talk about it with an exhausted Astor. So I offer him a sweet smile, and pull his hand to my lips and kiss it. “I’ll stay… until it’s time to go.”

For a moment, Astor just stares at me. I feel like he wants to argue or say more, but exhaustion takes over and he closes his eyes instead, his breathing finally leveling out.

Or at least I thought.

“Keys,” Astor adds groggily, his eyes still closed, “the next time you ice your pussy in my bed, it’ll be for an entirely different reason.”

Astor

Three weeks later…

Keagan is reading Tatum a bedtime story when I read the text again.

I didn’t mean to pry when I picked up her phone to take it to her.

But it was fromhim.

That bastard had sent her two texts back-to-back.

One said,I knew you weren’t that stupid,andthe other said,Don’t forget my coffee.

I’m surprised he didn’t addbitchto the end.

I couldn’t control my fury—it was the only reason I unlocked her phone and read the rest of his messages. And the more I read, the more pissed off I became.

Archer: I’ve been patient with you. I’m giving the account to McGee. He at least comes to work and doesn’t make excuses that he’s grieving, when really he’s just fucking his sister’s widow.

She never answered him. But then the next day he texted again.

Archer: If you’re not back to work on Monday, you’re fired.

And that’s when she answered.

Keagan: The reading of the will is on Monday. As soon as it’s finished, I’ll be there.

That was Friday. Today is Sunday.

“When were you going to tell me, huh?” I snap, just as Keagan closes the nursery door.

Her eyes go wide. “What are you talking about?”

I hold up the phone like it’s some kind of proof. “I’m talking about you telling Archer you’re returning to work tomorrow.”

“Oh.” She swallows harshly. “I was going to tell you tonight.”

I scoff. “Really? While you were packing your bags?”

I don’t know what I’m more angry about, the fact that she kept this from me or didn’t tell Archer to go fuck himself.

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