I’m too upset to lie, tears already clinging to my eyelashes, a barbed fist settling in my throat. I have to give him something, even if it’s not the whole truth.
“I got written up at work.”
His head tilts, and the cold, calculated look in his eyes is one I’ve only ever seen directed at his enemies. “For what?”
I laugh, but it’s sharp. “Because my work isn’t up to standard.”
The way he scoffs makes my heart swell. “They’re wrong. Did you tell them that?”
I love that he defends me, even without evidence. He just has my back.
“I tried. But…” I shift my shoulders, not sure how to explain anything without telling him the depths of the lies woven by James.
I scrub my tear-stained cheeks, feeling rung out and weak. “I just have to keep my head down and work harder, prove that I’m good at my job.”
And I am good at my job. That’s what stings the most.
He splits his gaze between me and the road. Then he hits the blinker.
“What are you doing?”
“We’re going back to your office.”
I blink. “Why?”
“To fix this,” he says as if it’s the most obvious thing ever. “Ain’t havin’ you sittin’ in my truck crying because of some bullshit lies. There ain’t a single thing in this world that you ain’t good at, Lex. So I don’t fuckin’ believe them when they say you’re not good at your job.”
That warms me to my core, but it also sends a shiver of panic through me. If he goes inside, if he talks to James, he’s going to know the truth. Casey is like a bloodhound when it comes to getting information out of people.
“Don’t. You’ll just make it worse.”
His eyes narrow as he turns into a side street. “How the hell can I make it worse than this?”
“They could fire me. Please, Casey. Please, just trust me. I’m handling it, okay?”
That might be the biggest lie I’ve told since all of this began. I’m not handling anything. I’m tiptoeing along a live wire, waiting to be electrocuted.
His jaw ticks. “You’re fuckin’ upset. Ain’t havin’ it.”
“I am upset,” I agree. “But please don’t make this worse than it is.”
He turns the car onto another street, his movements jerky. “I don’t like this. I don’t like you bein’ distressed.”
“I’m okay.”
“You’re cryin’.”
“It’s just… hormones.” That lie stings more than I expect. I’m not hormonal or hysterical—or any other bullshit label. I’m fucking angry and stung by the injustice of this shit. “Casey, please.”
He snarls under his breath, but when he reaches the end of the street, he doesn’t turn back toward my office. Instead, he turns right, toward home.
Thank fuck.
“You come out of work like this again and I’m not backing down. They don’t get to make you feel less than, Lexi. You’re my wife,mine. And no one fuckin’ upsets you. I don’t care who they are, I’ll bulldoze the whole building if they make you cry again.”
“I know you will.” And that’s exactly why I’m not telling him everything.
Because if my husband knew the truth, he’d kill James and bury his body somewhere they’d never find him.
