His Wounded Light

His Wounded Light by Christine Brae Page A

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Authors: Christine Brae
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her a quick peck on the lips before I pull away to answer it.
    “Jesse Cain.” I didn’t get a chance to screen who it was through caller ID.
    “Dude. It’s Ryan. Are you home?”
    “Just arrived an hour ago from New York. What’s up?”
    “Turn your TV on and go to Channel 9 local news. Call me later.” He hangs up before I can even say anything.
    I spin around to grab the remote and walk towards the couch while speaking to Rose. “Ryan just told me to turn on the news.”
    I miss the beginning of the segment but I see a reporter standing right outside Forbes Memorial Hospital. Okay. I’m not sure how this relates to me. I turn the volume up and then I make the connection.
    “We are here on location at Forbes Memorial Hospital, where just an hour ago, Alex Ailey, renowned businessman and owner of Ailey Industries, was rushed after being injured in a serious racing accident. There is still no word on his condition, but minutes ago, a distraught Isabel Amarra-Ailey was seen pulling up to the entrance and running through the doors to be with her husband. Channel 9 has learned that he is currently undergoing emergency surgery. Our crew will remain here to keep you apprised of any updates as the night progresses. From Channel 9 News, this is David White.”
    Rose is standing behind me with a kitchen towel in her hands. We both look at each other, not sure what to say.
    “Are we ready for dinner?” I ask, trying to change the subject.
    She nods her head mechanically and goes back to the kitchen to set the table. I follow her there and we sit down to eat in silence.
    “You should probably call or check on her sisters, maybe?” Rose says quietly, her voice showing genuine concern.
    “I’ll wait until tomorrow. I’m sure they’re all at the hospital with her now.” Her. In the Cain dictionary, that simply refers to Isabel Amarra, former love of my life.
    The night wears on and I don’t think about her for a few hours. That’s important to note, by the way. The fact that I no longer think of her every second. Or the fact that I no longer see her face when I’m having sex. A week without it is a little too long for me, and I couldn’t wait to get Rose in bed to get rid of this dry spell. We did do some sex talking through Skype a few days ago, but everyone knows there’s nothing better than the real thing. Rose is attentive in bed tonight and we expend all that pent up energy from being apart for a week. I tell her that I love her as I come; she looks into my eyes and holds me close, as if she knows that what we saw tonight is going to affect us in some way. I don’t disagree with that thought.
    I’m still wide awake at 1:14. The memories in my head have become adrenaline coursing through my veins. The last time I saw her, she looked so happy, so content. I don’t know why, but I’m thinking about her tonight. I glance over to Rose, fast asleep, her hair spread out on the pillow, her lips full and fetching. I digress temporarily to lean over and give her a kiss. She stirs slightly but turns away to get more sleep. I roll out of bed and slowly pad my way out of the bedroom, down the stairway, and into my study. I flip on the light switch and sit at my desk, fighting the urge to call her sisters. I know that it’s my protective instinct that’s kicked in. It’s got to be that. Nothing else.
    There’s a locked drawer in here that no one else knows about but me. In it are things from my past that I haven’t been able to discard just yet. Maybe it’s time to go through them tonight. I reach for the key that I keep inside the middle drawer, finding it among paper clips and letter openers, staples and post-it notes. I open the drawer but I don’t look inside. Instead, I stick my hand in and pull out the first thing that it touches. A watch. A stainless steel Tag Heuer watch. Of all the things I have to find, it is this. Considering what she and I can afford these days, this gift is small in monetary value

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