Read Online The First Wife by Erica Spindler - Free Book Online Page B

everyone’s lips, and it’s still all they’re
     talking about. Even you.”
    She dragged her hands through her hair. Wasn’t she the one who had agreed they had
     their whole life to get to know each other? Bailey’s Big Adventure.
    He had been defensive.
    And she hadn’t been fair.
    A sound came from the other room. A thud. Like something heavy hitting the floor.
    Bailey straightened. “Logan?”
    Silence answered. Frowning, she stood, called out again.
    Again, nothing. She moved through the kitchen into the front hallway. Light peeked
     out from the partially open study door.
    She reached it. Pushed it the rest of the way open. Several books, on the floor by
     the desk. The laptop open, a soft glow emanating from it. And Logan, his back to her
     as he stood in front of his mother’s portrait.
    She made a sound of relief. “Logan?”
    He turned. He held a glass of amber-colored liquid. She caught her breath at his haunted
     expression.
    “You’re still here.” His words slurred slightly and she realized he must have had
     quite a lot of whatever was in that glass.
    “Where else would I be?”
    “Thought you hated me, too.”
    “God, no. I love you.” She crossed to him and took the glass from his hand and set
     it on the desk. “I was upset. I’m sorry.”
    “I’m sorry,” he said, drawing her against him and burying his face in her hair. “I
     shouldn’t have…” He straightened, looked her in the eyes. “I wanted to protect you.”
    “From what, Logan?”
    “All the sadness.”
    She cupped his face in her hands. “You can’t. Sadness, loss, they’re a part of life.”
    “Not this much.”
    She knew he meant his life, his family. And she understood. “Come to bed.”
    He didn’t move, just stood gazing at her, as if memorizing her image. “How do I keep
     you safe?”
    “I’m not going anywhere.”
    “That’s all I want.” He shook his head. “I couldn’t protect any of the others. None
     of them, not even True.”
    “But she left you.”
    “What if … told myself no … but now—”
    “Sweetheart, you’re not making any sense.”
    He rested his forehead against hers. “They were fighting.”
    “Who?”
    “Mom ’n’ Dad. That night. I should have done something.”
    Her pulse quickened. “What night?”
    “But I didn’t,” he went on. “I was—”
    “When, Logan? When should you have done something?”
    “My responsibility … to stop—”
    He assumed she knew what night he was referring to, or maybe he was simply too drunk
     for awareness of any of that.
    He didn’t finish, instead turned away, reached for his glass.
    She stopped him. Covered his hand, brought it to her heart. “Don’t. It won’t help.
     This will.” She searched his gaze. “Talk to me. Turn to me.”
    “Gone. Without a word. All of … blames me.”
    “Who blames you, Logan? For what?”
    “I didn’t stop him. I could have. I did … nothing. Nothing.”
    He started to cry. She held him, not knowing what else she could do. She wanted to
     ask what he could have done, but knew she wouldn’t get a real answer.
    He rested his forehead against hers. “Got to keep you safe.”
    “You will. Come to bed. You need sleep.”
    “No … afraid to … if I sleep who will watch over you?”
    Her eyes filled with tears. “You have to sleep. How can you protect me if you’re exhausted?
     Come to bed,” she said again, coaxing.
    He let her lead him upstairs. There, she helped him out of his clothes, then stripped
     out of hers and slipped into bed beside him, curling up against him.
    “Need to tell you.”
    “What?”
    “About True. Should have … told you…”
    “What, babe? What should you have told me?”
    His eyes had drifted shut.
    “Babe? What about True?” She shook him gently. “Tell me about True.”
    His lids fluttered up, he looked at her, though she thought he was already asleep.
     “How … do I … keep…”
    The words trailed off and he was asleep. Snoring