Burn (L.A. Untamed #2) by Ruth Clampett Read Free Book Online Page A

don’t understand what’s happening to me, and Paul and Elle implied that it’s because I’m not dead inside anymore.”
    “That’s just awesome. Can you thank the happy couple for me? It feels great to know they think I enhanced your life so profoundly while we were together.”
    “Sure thing,” I say.
    “Trish, are you serious with this stuff. Did you really feel dead in our marriage?”
    “I don’t know. I went to work, I came home, I did yardwork and got the groceries, and waited for you to come home from the flower shop. I can’t say I felt particularly alive.”
    “There’s a lot of mundane tasks in all of our lives, but what about the other times, like when we had fun?”
    “When was that?”
    “Like when we’d go to Greenblatt’s deli and have pastrami sandwiches and then see the acts at the Comedy Store on Sunset. That was great.”
    “We haven’t done that in at least two years, Mike. You were always working at the shop.”
    “Well, how about we go next weekend?”
    “You aren’t getting what I’m saying.”
    He lets out a long sigh. “I get it. Believe me, I do. What makes you think I’m not dead inside, too? Especially now that you kicked me out. I think we won’t really feel alive again until we get back together and work things out.”
    He was always so fucking stubborn. He always has to get his way.
    He clears his throat. “I know! Let’s go to Italy. You’ve always wanted to go there.”
    Really? He’s the one that wants to go to Italy. My head suddenly feels hot and I’m fired up. Am I transforming like the Hulk or something? Because I’m pretty sure T. Rex is in the building.
    “Will Stanley be joining us in Italy?” I ask between gritted teeth.
    “No Stanley won’t be joining us,” he says with a gruff voice. “You aren’t going to make this easy, are you Patricia?”
    “Why should I? You don’t deserve easy. I think my disdain for you is well deserved. On top of it, you knew I was dead in our marriage and you didn’t even mention it.”
    “Mention it?” he says, his voice an octave higher.
    “Yeah, fuck you for not mentioning that I was dying a slow death right before your eyes. But oh yeah, I forgot you were never home enough to notice.”
    “Says the firefighter who spent over half her life living with a bunch of hot men who wear suspenders with no shirts and slide down poles.”
    What the hell with the suspenders with no shirts?
    My fingers grip the phone so tight my fingertips turn white. He must have a secret stash of those sexy firemen calendars. What do you bet he gets off looking at them?
    “Says the cheater who’d gladly trade spots with his wife to be around all the hot men.”
    “Oh Jesus, would you just stop? For God’s sake. I bet you’d be happy if I were dead. Not this bullshit pretend-dead, but really dead. Wouldn’t you?”
    “I’m not playing into your emotional blackmail. Screw you, Michael Irving Castallani the third. Screw you and the Sasquatch you screw!”
    I poke my finger at my phone’s screen to end the call when I desperately want the satisfaction of slamming the receiver of an old-school phone down so the sound is like a gunshot in his ears.
    Stupid fucking smart phones.
    I spend the next hour storming through the house ranting and throwing things until I have nothing left in me. I head to the bedroom, strip naked—too drained to care about my pj’s—and crawl into bed. Why I start crying like a baby when my head hits the pillow, who the hell knows? I guess it’s just one more sign that, like it or not, I’m finally alive.

    I’m trying my best to focus the next day, and I’m doing pretty good through the morning’s equipment check, and gym time. But we’re filing into the training room when Joe steps up close behind me, and leans in to whisper in my ear, “I need to talk to you. Meet me in the office after.”
    I don’t turn around, just silently nod as I try to maintain my composure. But damn, his breath on my