The Wife Code_Banks by Charlie Hart & Chantel Seabrook

Author:Charlie Hart & Chantel Seabrook [Hart, Charlie & Seabrook, Chantel]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2018-04-30T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 11

Banks

“Damn, Banks,” Huxley says, swimming up to the edge of the springs and splashing me. “Do you ever stop working?”

I grunt, shaking off the water from the papers I was reading since Tia wouldn’t let me bring my laptop. I would never obey another woman’s commands but she’s different. She’s not a weak woman and she means well. Tia cares about me, maybe more than she should. Maybe even more than I’m worth, but she’s worth everything to me. I’ve tried to keep my emotions at bay but it’s so damn hard with her.

“Something you know little of,” I say, even though I know the man is constantly working. I just haven’t figured out exactly what he does. I’m not even sure Salinger knows the truth of how Huxley really acquires all his goods.

I put my papers, which are now soggy, down beside me and glance around.

This part of the springs has been covered in an insulated dome-like structure, trapping in the natural heat, but I still have all my clothes on, even though everyone else has stripped down and are either goofing around like Huxley or fawning all over Tia.

My back teeth grind together as I catch a glimpse of my wife wrapped in a Fallon and Emerson sandwich at the far side of the springs.

Hell, I wish I could relax. Let go of all the pressure, the responsibilities that weigh me down, but there’s too much at stake.

There are still so many damn ifs floating around my head. I’m a rational man. Probably a little stubborn to a fault. But I rely on concrete evidence, on control, and right now I feel like my world is unraveling and the harder I work, the more what ifs appear.

What if Tia doesn’t get pregnant on time.

What if Lawson doesn't hold up his end of the bargain.

What if I can’t save my wife.

My throat constricts.

Death has become an old acquaintance that I’ve gotten to know way too well over the years. He takes and takes, without discrimination. Old, young, rich, poor, innocent, and cruel. The bastard is impartial.

These men believe that their love will keep Tia safe. But I know the truth. Love isn’t a shield. If anything it only leaves a person more vulnerable to attack, because they’re blinded to the enemy that’s right in front of them.

Time.

And we’re running out quickly.

Giles gets out of the spring and wraps a towel around his waist, before sitting down on a stone-cut lounge beside me, then pulling two beers from the cooler the man packed and handing me one.

I take it.

We sit in silence for a few minutes.

“You want to talk about what’s eating at you?” Giles finally asks, running a hand over his beard, his wounds from the wolf attack and his time with Salinger's father now puckered pink scars that will never go away.

But that’s the thing with injuries, both physical and emotional, even if you survived, you’re never the same afterward.

“Nothing’s eating at me,” I say.

I like Giles, which is saying a lot.

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