Where You Least Expect It...

Chapter 4

But Grace barely looked at him anymore. She didn't sleep beside him at night. She pretended to, she'd wait until she thought he was sleeping before she snuck out. But he didn't sleep much- never had. And so he'd lay in their fucking bed trying to understand what the hell had happened to his wife. Only to wake up with Lizzie's face clear as day in his mind- following him out of his dreams.

He'd fallen into work- pushed his people hard, pushed himself harder. He'd started taken the horses out, running them until man and beast were both tired and shaking. And he'd drink. He'd drink until everything was so fucking hazy- a pleasant lack of clarity to keep her from finding him. But it didn't work. None of it worked. Because she'd still be there, under his skin and in his head.

He paced the floor of his study. Grace had come and gone again. He'd tried, he'd fucking tried, but she was locked away farther than he could reach. And he was tired of dealing with the woman wearing his wife's face. He turned at the end of his desk and his eyes went to the guest house. It sat dark and empty.

It was strange. That house had sat empty for almost four years. He'd never seen it lit up at night before Lizzie. She'd been in it for little more than half a year. But it felt like she'd been there forever- like there'd always been a light on, a beacon for him during his long nights. Made no sense. Sounded like something Ada would toss out from one of those books she liked so much.

But he didn't look away. The feeling didn't go away. Instead another crept up on him- slipped into his blood where he couldn't get it out. This pull- this need to see her. A noise from upstairs made him think of Grace. He thought about the way she'd looked the day he married her- beautiful and light and his. He thought of how she'd been lately- aloof and lost in shadows. But then his eyes were back on the guest house and that pull was even sharper. Fucking desperate.

He grabbed his keys and left.

He had her pressed against the wall as soon as she opened the door. "Get out of my fucking head." He was breathing hard. From the stairs, from the drive, from her- he didn't even know. His forehead as pressed to hers. Her wrists were caught in his hands. He could feel the firm swell of her belly- the baby kicked. "Damn you, Lizzie Stark. I can't do this. I can't do this to Grace. I won't. You've got to get out of my head."

She tugged one hand- he let go. Then her palm was pressed to his cheek. This was the closest they'd ever been. It scared him. How right it felt. How much he wanted to be closer. But he pushed the thought away- focused on the warmth of her palm and the stutter of her breath. "Go home, Tommy." Her voice was hoarse and shaky, but it stopped the noise in his head. Her other hand twisted free, fingers twined with his. "Tommy, please. Please, Tom. Go home."

His head dropped to her shoulder, his face pressed into the curve of her neck. "No use. You're haunting me." The hand that had been on his cheek found its way to the back of his head, fingers curling in his hair. His hands found her waist- held her still, kept her close. His mind slowed, sank into a comfort that was purely Lizzie. And maybe she felt it, too, because her breathing evened out and her pulse slowed.

"I'll stop. I'll stop haunting you, alright? I'll stop."

He cursed himself even as he held her tighter.

"Don't."

-

Day 241

It should have been better.

Lizzie was gone. There were no more dinners at the guest house. Thomas didn't see her. He even stayed in the car during the doctor's appointments. He only asked about the baby, never Lizzie. And it made Grace's heart feel lighter. She had even slept in their room the other night. She hadn't been able to do that for...too long. And it should have felt like an accomplishment. It should have felt wonderful.