Deep Secrets. Beverly Long

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       Chapter Three

      She stayed in the shower until the hot water ran out. When she got out, she considered not drying her waist-length hair but knew that it would be a tangled mess in the morning if she went to bed with it wet.

      She should have cut it years ago. But when she’d been married to Rafe, he’d convinced her to keep it long. I love your hair, he used to say. Your beautiful red hair. The night of the storm, I saw it through the window of the café. It looked like liquid fire. I thought I’d never seen anything quite so wonderful.

      After he’d died, she couldn’t bear to do any more than trim the ends. Wore it pulled back most of the time in a low ponytail.

      Tell Rafe they know.

      She sat down hard on the edge of the bathtub. It was crazy but she was so angry at Milo. The poor man was dead and she was furious that he’d said something like that and then died.

      She was a bad person. Horrible. A man was dead and all she could think about was herself.

      She jabbed the on button and held the dryer for too long in one spot, burning her scalp. Ten minutes later, she gave up. Her hair was still damp but she was so damn tired. She picked up her toothbrush, spread some toothpaste and halfheartedly brushed. When she tossed her toothbrush back onto the counter, a memory hit her so hard that she almost doubled over.

      Rafe putting his toothbrush back just so, in exactly the same spot every time. His shaving cream and razor, too. Everything in its place, he used to say, lightheartedly poking fun at himself. Before she’d married him, she’d considered herself pretty neat and organized. But Rafe had been the king of patterns and order. She’d noticed it slowly, over time. He kept very little paper around, usually just a small pile of unpaid bills. If you asked, he could tell you, in the order it appeared, what was on his desk at any one time.

      He never made a big deal out of it. And she had never taken it too seriously until one night they’d come home from a movie in Hamerton, entered the house, and he’d sensed that something was different. He’d grabbed her, pulled her behind him, and the gun that he always carried on him had been in his hand. The hallway light wasn’t on when we left, he had whispered in her ear.

      He’d inspected the whole house but had come up empty. But she could tell that he was bothered by the incident. It wasn’t until she finally checked her cell phone, which she’d turned off at the movies, that she heard the message from Summer. She’d stopped over to borrow a dress.

      When she’d told Rafe, he’d waved it off. She could tell he didn’t want to discuss it. But she hadn’t forgotten it. She had seen a side of her husband that night that was fascinating. It was not as if he’d morphed into someone new. No, it was more subtle than that.

      He was still Rafe, the handsome construction worker who had stolen her heart and made her laugh every day. But he was someone else, too. Someone very capable. Someone fearless.

      Someone, she suspected, who would do whatever it took to protect her and their home. He’d handled the gun expertly. She’d been in awe, really.

      And she’d started paying more attention to the things around her. Noticing when things changed. It was like playing a game where there was no score and she was competing only against herself. She got better at it every day. Nobody got new glasses, highlighted their hair or had their teeth fixed that she didn’t pick up on it. It was just crazy small stuff but she had fun with it.

      It was only one of the many ways that loving Rafe had changed her.

      She left the bathroom. She didn’t bother to dress. Simply crawled into bed naked. She could hear Duke pacing in front of her door, his nails scratching against the wood floor. “Good night, Duke,” she said, knowing that he СКАЧАТЬ