Riven Knight by Devney Perry

Author:Devney Perry [Perry, Devney]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Devney Perry LLC

Chapter Fifteen

Genevieve

I stared out the window of the cabin, taking in the surrounding forest. The evergreens towered above us. The forest floor was dusted with a thin layer of snow. And even though I couldn’t see it through the trees, I pictured the lake in the distance, long and wide and deep blue.

The town was smaller than Clifton Forge. Cozier. Coming here was the escape I’d needed. Here, there weren’t motorcycle gangs—former or current. Here, the memory of my mother’s murder seemed further away. Here, maybe Isaiah would finally open up to me about what had been bothering him for weeks.

“Remind me why you picked Clifton Forge? Because Lark Cove is gorgeous.” Like, I want to live here instead gorgeous.

“I went where there was work.” Isaiah kept his head down, studying the coffee table. Eye contact over the past three weeks had been nearly nonexistent.

“I like this cabin.”

He lifted a shoulder. “Yeah.”

“Better than the last one we were in together.”

That got his attention. He looked over at me on the opposite end of the couch. My heart would have soared at a grin. I would have taken a frown. I was desperate for any reaction other than that fucking blank stare.

Gah! Why? I was about to leap across the couch and strangle him with my bare hands until he surrendered and told me what had happened when I’d been sick.

I remembered him coming to get me from the office. I remembered the massive surge of anxiety emanating off him as he drove me home. And I remembered him putting me to bed.

My nasty fever had taken two days to break. When I’d emerged from the haze, the Isaiah who’d grinned was gone. In his place was the shell of my friend. It was worse than it had been even in the early days of our marriage.

It had only gotten worse on the drive to Lark Cove.

Isaiah had asked me to drive. I was happy to, thinking maybe with some time trapped in the car, he would finally relax enough to tell me what was wrong. The road trips I’d taken with Mom as a kid had been filled with nonstop conversation. But this was hour after hour of silence. Even with the radio on, the quiet screamed.

His hands stayed braced on his knees the entire trip, his tattooed knuckles white as he gripped his legs. I made the mistake of looking at him once and asking if he was all right.

Eyes on the road.

Those were the only words he spoke to me besides turn left, next right and keep going straight.

By the time we reached Lark Cove, I was nearly in tears.

Where was Isaiah? My Isaiah? I thought we’d learned to rely on one another. Or had it just been me leaning on him this entire time? Did I give him no comfort? No strength? Would he ever trust me with the truth? There was only so much prying I could do. At some point, he had to put his faith in me, like I’d done with him.

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