Her Reluctant Husband by Erica Marselas (books to read for 12 year olds .TXT) 📕

in on Monday my head wasn’t in the game. Thankfully, Whitney gave me a reprieve when she transferred and did it without complaining. I have work with me and when I told Mr. Hayes my wife was still under the weather, he gave me a nod and a wink before telling me he’d see me at Friday’s meeting. I still think he’s hoping to see June pregnant.

I’m about to tell her she’s more important than work when her next text rings through.

Honey bear: PS. Your face is cute.

 

I left early because I’m the big boss now

who can make his own hours.

I want to make my beautiful wife dinner.

So, I hope I don’t eat alone. *tongue emoji*

 

Honey bear: Again. We will see <3

 

I’m still going to take that as a yes. I hop out of my truck and run up the stairs, wondering momentarily if we should consider getting a dog. That way June can have companionship and protection while I’m at work. I kick my shoes off at the door and a throat clears from the living room. I wish I had the fucking dog when I see my unexpected guest on my couch with a sly fucking smile on his face.

“Deacon.”

“Hey, man, it’s good to see you.” Deacon pops up from the couch and saunters over to me with a bottle of water in his hand that he’d welcomed himself to from my fridge.

“What are you doing here?”

June was right, she wouldn’t have been safe here. I’m kicking myself for ever thinking she would’ve been.

“Not happy to see me, man?” He grins, and I take a moment to look him over. The meek kid I once knew now is bulkier and I can see the cockiness and ignorance pouring out of him. Maybe the asshole was always like that and I was just blind.

“I guess I didn’t expect to find you sitting in my house. I’d think you would have waited for me to let you in.”

“The door was open. As always.” He smirks.

The door to Liz’s house has always been open. We don’t have neighbors for miles and in a town of only a couple thousand, nobody ever thinks of it. Thing is, I wish I’d thought of it. City living should’ve taught me better.

“Come on.” He slaps my shoulder and I try not to recoil at his touch but fail. “Don’t look at me like that. It’s me. I told you I was coming.”

“I guess I didn’t expect you to. It’s been years.”

“I know, but it seems I’ve misplaced some buried treasure.”

Treasure? What the fuck is he talking about?

He smirks. “Also, since you never replied to my email, I thought I’d just surprise you both.”

“Well, I hate surprises.” I clench my jaw. “You should have just written back or called.”

“What is going on? You seem tense.” He walks to the fireplace and runs his finger along the mantel.

“It’s been a long day,” I grunt. “How was Spain?” I want to keep him talking, though I want nothing more than to obliterate him. Tear him from limb to limb and make him suffer for all the things he did to the two people I loved the most.

“It’s been amazing. Lots of old stuff and culture, but nothing like being back home.” He picks up the framed photo Maggie and Ms. Gandy gave me of me and June from our wedding. I had it placed there after I put the ring on her finger. Wanting to show her my actions to prove my feelings, and maybe my commitment to her, even if I hadn’t seen it yet. “I still can’t believe you went through with it man.”

“Things change.”

He taps his fingers around the frame and clicks his tongue on the roof of his mouth. “Hey, where is June-bug? I expected her to be here.”

“Like you don’t know?” I snarl, and my fists clench.

“Why would I know?” He softly chuckles and places the picture back on the mantel. “She’s your wife.”

“I know about the letter you sent her.”

“I didn’t send her any letter.” He grins slyly and moves back from the fireplace. “She always did have an active imagination.”

“Don’t lie to me, Deacon. I read the fucking letter,” I growl, flexing my fingers, as I step in front of him. “I know everything.”

“Everything about what?” he says smoothly and picks his water back up, taking a long sip.

“Cut the fucking shit. I’m not playing anymore.” I knock the drink out of his hand. The water splatters over his arms and shirt, before it hits the wood floor, and pours out around our feet.

“Fuck man.” He chuckles lightly, shaking his head, as he brushes the water off his arms. “Nice to see you’re still an asshole. I thought June would be keeping you happy.”

“I prefer you not to talk about my wife.”

“Alex, man, what is the problem?” he says calmly. “I came to say hi, and you’re fucking biting my head off.”

“My fucking problem is you.”

“Me?”

“I thought I knew you. That I could trust you.”

“What the hell are you going on about?” he asks, looking bored.

“I think you know what I’m going on about. Just how could you?”

“How could I what?” He crosses his arms, an arrogant smile creasing his lips.

“Don’t give me that shit. You caused the accident that killed Kathleen. You killed my sister.” My anger burns deeper as he remains smug. I grab his collar and slam him up against the wall. His head bounces upon impact. “You raped my wife.” The words get caught in my throat as I remember all the horror in her eyes every time she woke from a nightmare. I punch him in the face and with the satisfying sound