Pain that he’d put there because of everything that happened four weeks ago.
You didn’t put the pain there. Paxton did. Jimmy Hunt did. You were a victim.
He couldn’t accept that he was a victim, was that the problem? Or was it that he couldn’t stop feeling like a victim?
He slammed his fist on his steering wheel. Again. Again. He sped up, almost willed a cop to pull him over. Laughed when he thought there was never a cop around when you needed one . . . and they were always around when you didn’t.
He sounded insane. Maybe he was. His pain was nothing compared with Lucy’s. She had gone through far worse than he’d ever suffered, and she was strong. Determined. Whole. Why couldn’t he be as strong as she was?
If he didn’t even know what his problem was, how could he explain it to anyone? Dillon wanted him to talk; he couldn’t. Jack pushed him this afternoon, but he had nothing to say. He had no words . . . just this deep, claustrophobic feeling like he was drowning. He couldn’t even think anymore.
Sean didn’t consciously drive to Lake Tahoe, but that’s where he ended up. The sun had already set. He drove around the lake, knowing he needed to head back, but then he pulled into the Harrah’s parking garage.
Almost as soon as he turned off the car, his phone beeped.
He looked down at where his phone was charging. It was a message from Lucy.
When will you be home? Jack and I just got back from the conference.
He didn’t know. He felt . . . lost.
I’ll be late. Don’t wait up.
He left his phone in the car and walked to the door of the casino.
He looked back at the car, rubbed his eyes. Walked back, pulled out his phone.
I love you.
Then he locked the phone in the glove box and entered the casino.
* * *
Lucy woke up at four thirty in the morning and Sean wasn’t there.
She immediately grabbed her phone, heart racing, fearing the worst. He’d texted her three hours ago.
Lost track of time. Sorry. Call you later.
No explanation of where he’d been, what he’d been doing, if he was coming home . . . she shook her head. She knew he was struggling, but how could she help him when he wouldn’t let her in?
Lucy didn’t want to disturb Jack and Megan, so she quietly moved about the kitchen with the aid of the dim light above the stove. Made a pot of coffee and watched as it dripped into the pot.
She hated not knowing how to fix a problem. But more, she didn’t understand why Sean wouldn’t talk to her. She knew Senator Paxton better than anyone; she knew the mind games he played. She understood every trick and justification for his devious acts.
Maybe it wasn’t Paxton, but Sean’s friend Colton Thayer. It had to hurt to know that his oldest friend had worked with Sean’s greatest enemy to hurt him. To set him up for murder, kidnap him, torture him. But how? What had they done to Sean that had such a huge impact on him now, a month later? Paxton was dead and Colton was in prison. Sean had been completely exonerated.
She poured coffee, added cream and sugar, sipped. She loved her morning coffee, especially the first cup, but today she tasted nothing.
She sat at the kitchen table and closed her eyes. She hurt for Sean, but what hurt more was that he’d barely looked at her in a month. They hadn’t even had sex . . . definitely not something she could talk about with people. The only person she felt comfortable talking about sex with was her husband, and yet she couldn’t bring it up, not now.
Maybe she should have let him stay in San Antonio. Maybe he needed time away from her. Maybe he needed something she couldn’t give him.
She didn’t know what to do.
Before Jack said a word, she sensed him watching her.
“I made coffee.”
“Strong, the way I like it.”
She opened her eyes and watched as her brother poured coffee, black, into a mug and sat across from her.
“Sean didn’t come home last night.”
“This isn’t about you, Lucy.”
“It is. I don’t know why, but he . . . he can’t look at me.”
“You’ve done nothing.”
Jack was angry. He didn’t understand what she meant, how could she explain?
“It’s not what I’ve done, Jack. But this is about me. He can’t talk to me, he can’t look at me, he can’t sleep with me . . . Paxton got into his head and is still there and I don’t know how to fix it because I don’t know what he said or did. I’ve never seen Sean like this.”
Jack didn’t say anything for a minute. He sipped his coffee. Put down the mug. Finally, “Did Paxton know anything about you that Sean might not be okay with?”
“I don’t have secrets from Sean. And if he lied about something, Sean wouldn’t believe him—or he’d ask me. That’s who he is. This is different. He’s not angry. He’s . . . defeated. He’s lost weight.”
“I noticed.”
“Somehow, Paxton figured out how to get to Sean. Or maybe Colton. Colton has known Sean half his life. They had once been close.”
“Maybe it’s simply about Sean. He wasn’t a saint, we both know that. I don’t care about his past, I don’t think you do, either. To me, the man Sean has become far outweighs any crimes he committed. But maybe there’s something deep down that he regrets, Paxton exploited that, and Sean can’t figure out how to get past it.”
Maybe, Lucy thought. But how did she convince Sean that no matter what it was, she wasn’t leaving?
“You might need to let Sean figure this out on his own. I don’t think we’re helping.”
She didn’t like that answer.
“But Lucy—you need to call him on this. Not coming home. Making you worry? That’s not acceptable. I think . . .”
He stopped talking.
“What? What were you going to say?”
“Don’t coddle him.”
“You think that’s what I’m doing?”
“Yes. And me—last night, before I left for the conference, I talked around the situation. I let him steer the ship. We’re enabling him to do shit like not come home, not call, and lie. He told both of us he was going to Duke’s. He didn’t, never planned to. You can’t give him a pass. I sure as hell am not.”
“What am I supposed to do? Kick him out? Leave him?”
“That’s extreme.”
“I don’t know what you’re thinking, Jack. I don’t know that I can . . . push him like that.”
“And you’re the psychologist.”
She stared at her brother. “I’m not going to abandon him when he’s at his lowest.”
“Of course not. But if you let him get away with this? He has to know there are consequences to his actions. Otherwise, when the going gets tough, he’s going to run and try to figure it out himself.”
“And if I give him an ultimatum and he walks away?”
“I didn’t say give him an ultimatum, but if that’s the direction it goes—you have to trust yourself. You know Sean better than anyone. He loves you. You’ll find a way to get through to him, but whatever you’ve been doing hasn’t helped. It’s time to get tough.”
“I don’t know that I can.”