The Third Rule of Ten by Gay Hendricks

Author:Gay Hendricks
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Hay House
Published: 2014-01-15T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 14

I called Heather as I turned into my driveway.

“How about Langer’s, say four o’clock? Can you get away that early?”

“Perfect,” Heather said.

Once home, I followed the advice I’d given Clancy and took a very long, very hot shower, scrubbing the past two days from my body with multiple rounds of soap and shampoo. I toweled off briskly and scraped what few whisker bristles there were from my non-white Tibetan cheeks. I was still bone-tired, with the charcoal smudges under my eyes to prove it, but at least my skin and hair were clean.

I met my dark-ringed eyes in the mirror. “Are you really ready to tell Heather the truth?” I said out loud. “The whole truth?” Just the words alone made my stomach tighten and the inside of my mouth go dry. As I turned from my reflection, Tank wandered in and gave my ankle a light bump with his nose. He always senses when my emotions start gyrating.

I reached for him, lifting him into my arms as I moved to the edge of my bed to sit.

“Heather and I used to take showers together,” I told Tank. “I can’t even remember the last time we did that.”

Tank turned his emerald green eyes toward me.

“I know. It was so good, and now it isn’t.” I gathered up the loose fur on Tank’s neck, gave it a little tug, and then released it. “I’ve been trying, Tank. Really trying this time.”

This was crazy. In the past week alone I’d been burgled, shot at, stalked, and struck with a pipe. Yet the thought of telling Heather the truth—of upsetting her, maybe even making her cry—was far more terrifying then any one of these assaults. My chest literally clenched with fear at the thought of what lay ahead.

My eyes felt scratchy, and I rubbed them with my palms.

Why was I so scared? Why was I so bad at reading relationship clues? I was a trained detective. Why couldn’t I act like one, instead of a … a … ?

Tank meowed.

“Right, a complete idiot who knows nothing about women.”

I rubbed at my eyes again. And suddenly I understood what was going on. I had seen Lola and Maude make exactly this gesture when they were trying hard not to cry. Ooph. Maybe it wasn’t Heather’s tears I feared. Maybe it was my own.

The simple act of owning the truth seemed to be directly connected to a deep well of feeling inside. I took a deep breath and dove further.

My guilt, my avoiding Heather wasn’t about eating meat or feeling judged or even sleeping with Cielo. These were evidence of a deeper, much more serious reality. The truth was, I didn’t love Heather anymore. I hadn’t for some time. And Heather deserved to know. I really didn’t want to fail at this relationship, but I was holding onto a chimera, an idea of closeness, as opposed to actual intimacy. One of the biggest clues? I had been in several life-threatening situations, had actually killed two men, over the past few days, yet I hadn’t thought to call her, had barely even missed her.

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