She blushed slightly. “Um, I wanted to look at your bag of tricks.”
He raised his eyebrows, giving her a stern look. “Without permission. That’s going to earn you some punishment.”
She’d take it if it meant he’d keep talking to her. She tentatively reached out and touched his arm. He still felt stiff. Distant. Her heart ached. “I really am sorry. My curiosity always did get me into trouble.”
“Let’s forget it.”
“Forget it? But . . .” she trailed off as his gaze drew dark.
“But what?”
“I just . . . I mean . . . the woman in that photo—”
“Is someone I don’t talk about.”
“Ever?”
“Ever.” He gave her a firm look.
“But where is she? What—”
“She’s dead,” he interrupted. “All right? She’s dead and that’s all you need to know about her.”
No. No, it wasn’t. Not if she caused a reaction like this from him.
“What happened to her?”
“That’s none of your damn business.”
Molly flinched as he turned away from her.
“Fuck! Fuck!” He leaned his hands against the wall and took a couple of deep breaths. When he turned back to her, his face was filled with regret. “Jesus, Molly, I’m sorry.”
“I’m the one who was going through your private stuff.” She watched him warily though. For the first time, she didn’t feel a hundred percent safe in his company. Not that she thought he’d hurt her physically. But her emotions were a whole other ballgame. She’d thought they were closer than this, but it seemed she was wrong. Seemed that he had a whole bunch of secrets, a part of his life she wasn’t welcome to.
And you don’t? It would make her a hypocrite to protest him holding part of his life apart from her.
“Yeah, but I had no right to talk to you the way I just did. I’m acting like a complete jerk. It’s just . . . I don’t talk about her.”
“She was really special to you.”
“She was my wife. She was my wife and she died. End of story.”
Oh, but that wasn’t the end of the story. Not at all. And why had no one told her any of this? Was it a secret everyone kept from outsiders? Hurt filled her. She’d have thought Lila, Laken, or Savannah might have said something.
“I’m so sorry, I didn’t know.”
“No way you could have. Not many people do know.”
“She didn’t live here?”
He let out an impatient sigh. “Look, Molly, don’t make a big deal out of this.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean that I’m not one of your patients. I don’t need to talk this out. It happened two years ago. I don’t need therapy. I had a wife. She died. That’s it. No one talks about her because they didn’t know her. I didn’t live here, and I’d lost touch with my old friends while I was in the Navy. That’s it. So, leave it alone.”
It was hard not to snap at him, not to react with anger. But she held back her own pain, realizing he was lashing out because she’d opened old wounds.