Page 111 of Burn Bag

She tore herself back, staring up at me in horror. “No! Don’t even say that! I’m at fault. I ruined your beautiful truck. I crashed into a building!” Then her eyes went wide. “Oh God. Did I hurt anyone inside?”

“No, baby. Everyone’s fine. And Harper is fine, too.”

“Are you sure?” Her pitiful face morphed into the saddest face I’d ever seen before she buried her head in my chest and started crying uncontrollably again. “I’ll never drive again. I’m such a horrible person!”

“Baby, you are not a horrible person.”

“Yes, I am! I ruined your truck.”

Sighing, I did what any good husband would do. I lied. “It’s just a truck, baby. The only important thing is that you’re okay. I can replace a truck, but I can’t replace you.”

Sniffling, she finally looked up at me through wrecked hope, her lip quivering. “Do you mean that?”

“Of course, I do.”

I so did not.

I mean, obviously, I didn’t want her to be hurt, but that truck was my baby. Yet, I was sitting here, telling her it was okay because she was obviously destroyed by what had happened. I didn’t need to kick her when she was down. She was doing a good enough job of that on her own. And what kind of husband would I be if I put a higher price on a truck—even one so beautiful and loyal as my baby—than my own wife?

So, I held her and rocked her until she finally fell asleep and let the pain meds take over. When she was asleep, I laid her back in the bed and walked out of the room, stretching from being scrunched up on the bed for so long.

Red was leaning against the wall, grinning at me as I exited the room.

“What the fuck is that look for?”

“Didn’t hear any yelling in there.”

I scowled at him, stalking past him. “Kind of hard to yell at your wife when she’s having a fucking nervous breakdown. I swear to God, I don’t think there are any more tears left in her body.”

“Trust me,” he chuckled. “There are, and they’ll come out when you least expect it.”

I shoved a hand through my hair, widening my eyes in confusion. “How did I end up like this?”

“What? Pathetic and dimwitted? The moment you walked down the aisle and said I do.”

“I was in there,” I said, remembering walking into the room. “I was prepared to lay into her for ruining my truck. I mean, I was of course going to control myself, but I was ready. And then…” I trailed off, waving my hand in the air as if that said it all.

“And then the waterworks hit and you caved.”

I nodded, still not completely understanding it. “I hate it when she cries.”

“That’s a good thing. It would suck if you liked to see her cry. They call those people psychopaths,” Red retorted.

“And I just sat there…” I said, shaking my head in disbelief. “I actually fucking told her it was my fault because I hadn’t left her a vehicle to drive.” I looked up at Red, still shaking my head. “I took the blame for an accident I had nothing to do with. How the fuck does that happen?”

“Love, my friend.” He clapped me on the shoulder and laughed. “I would say you’re well on your way to being in love with the woman. Can’t say there’s a good way out for you now.”

I couldn’t believe it. I just couldn’t wrap my head around the insanity of what just happened. I actually consoled my wife after she wrecked my beautiful truck and destroyed the garage.

“I’m so fucked.”

“That’s one way to put it. All you can do now is grab your dick and hold on tight. You’re in for one hell of a ride.”

He clapped me on the shoulder and walked away, but I just stood there, replaying everything that happened with Daphne in my head.

“I actually fucking told her it was my fault,” I murmured to myself. I shook my head and stalked away from the room. “I need my head examined.”

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