I was exhausted by the time I dragged myself up to my room. I didn’t even mess with grabbing any alcohol other than a couple bottles of beer from the fridge. I would have liked a sandwich. I actually had a mad craving for one like I’d had the night before, but I wasn’t entirely certain where I’d gotten it. Shelley had probably made it, but she only worked until four-thirty and was long gone.

Of course, I seem to recall eating it rather late last night. Maybe I’d made it?

I had no idea, really.

But I was too tired to mess with much of anything that required thought, so I just nuked one of the meals Shelley kept on hand in the giant freezer, complete with preparation instructions neatly marked on the top.

With the plate in one hand and the booze tucked under my arm, I opened the door and all but spilled into my room.

I was tired enough to almost skip the food and just collapse into the bed, but there was already a headache pounding at the base of my skull, and if I didn’t eat something, it would be worse in the morning.

Ten minutes later, I’d eaten half the meal and drained one beer. I left the rest on the small end table next to the couch in the sitting area and made my way to bed. Putting the fresh beer on the table, I stripped naked and slid between the covers, propped up on the pillows. Grabbing the remote, I turned on the TV, just for some sound.

I’d learned months ago that the endless quiet was one of the most brutal tortures I could endure.

I’d gotten used to hearing Isabel’s laugh, or listening to her endless, teasing chatter. Even if she wasn’t there, she’d be texting me, or friends would call the condo and leave messages—or her mother, her father. Sometimes even her, because she left her phone behind as often as she remembered it.

She was—had been—the only person I knew who could actually tell me where to find working payphones. Not that there were too many left. But she forgot her phone so often, she’d have the locations of payphones memorized, not to mention the names of the shops where the owners would let her use the business phone.

And if she hadn’t been calling, it would have been my dad, my brothers, or my sister.

Now, it was next to nothing.

The silence was brutal, almost as bad as it had been the first few hours after the explosion.

The explosion.

Fuck.

I lifted the bottle of beer and drained it, staring sightlessly at the television without comprehending what was on.

The noise drifting from it couldn’t seem to penetrate the weird fog that had settled around me in the past few seconds.

All I could hear was that deep, powerful crack that seemed to shake the very earth to its core…right before it turned everything to fire, smoke and rubble.

We were walking out of the restaurant.

I recognized where we were, but everything was wrong.

Everything.

Storefronts turned to rubble, a gaping hole in the ground.

Impossibly, though, the gleaming perfection of my car was perched over that hole.

A hand stroked down my arm. I looked over. Isabel smiled at me. “I’ve got to go,” she said. “I love you.”

Then she turned and started to walk toward the car.

Fire licked up around her ankles as she walked away. I screamed at her. I could hear my voice, so loud it echoed around me.

She turned and smiled at me, wiggling her fingers.

I screamed again, lunging for her. Or trying. I couldn’t move so I shouted. “Come back!”

She shook her head and tapped her ear. I can’t hear you, she mouthed.

She blew me a kiss, then swung back around, her hips swaying with each step.

She climbed into the car, and I could hear her laughing.

“Sean!”

I jerked upright.

The lights were still on and my blurred gaze locked on the startled face of the woman in front of me.

Tish gaped at me.

I gripped her upper arms in my hands, squeezing so tight, I knew I had to be hurting her. Without thinking, I let go, shoving her away.

She stumbled back a few steps before catching her balance.

That only made me feel worse, but I didn’t look at her. Instead, I swung my legs over the edge of the bed. It wasn’t until I stood up that I remembered I was naked.

I didn’t much give a shit at that point and walked past her to my dresser, opening one of the drawers and grabbing a pair of loose joggers.

“What in the hell are you doing here?” I demanded as I pulled them on. Turning, I faced her. Her eyes flew up to meet mine. If my heart hadn’t been racing so hard, if I hadn’t felt so sick, I might have been amused. She’d been staring at my ass. After her pretty little speech, she’d been checking me out.

But my heart was racing. I felt sick and tired, and the guilt choked me.

“I…” She swallowed and looked away. “I got turned around. I heard you screaming. I was just…”

Now embarrassment added to the mix. I shoved it down and gave her a snide smile as she looked at me. “It’s called a nightmare, sugar. But if you want to help, come to bed with me. You can kiss it and make it all better.”

She huffed out a breath and shook her head, turning on her heel. She closed the door behind her, and only after the faint sound of her footsteps faded did I relax.

I probably hadn’t needed to be such an ass. It wasn’t necessary.

But she set me on edge. I wanted to fuck her on top of that.

And I didn’t need either complication, not when I still had Isabel clouding my thoughts.

“You shouldn’t worry about Isabel,” I muttered, disgusted. “She didn’t worry about you, did she?”

I thought about how tense things had been between us those final weeks, how nervous and strained she’d been. She’d tried to hide it, but I knew her too well. All the secretive looks, the texts.

She’d been hiding something. I’d been determined to figure out what, although I had my suspicions.

I’d never know for sure now, but maybe it was better I didn’t.

After all, at least if I didn’t know for sure that my wife had been cheating on me, I could cling to some illusions.