You Don't Want To Know by Lisa Jackson

nodded. “So did you.”
    â€œI know. I invited you, remember? Lunch?”
    â€œWyatt—”
    â€œYou made it pretty clear that you didn’t want to go with me because you didn’t believe that I’d come to bed last night.”
    She felt her temper ignite but knew renewing their fight wouldn’t solve anything. She held up a hand before the old debate heated up again. “Let’s not go there again.”
    He seemed to smolder for a moment, then said, “Okay, you’re right. Arguing’s not going to help.” Some of the tension left his features. “No big deal. We can have lunch another time. I was just surprised to hear that you went into town.”
    â€œIt was kind of a whim,” she said, hoping to smooth the waters. “I just needed to get out. Tried to see Tanya, but she wasn’t around. How about you?”
    â€œBusiness,” he said. “Checked in with Outreach.”
    Outreach was a small offshoot of the Seattle firm for which he worked. So they were both equivocating, stepping around the truth. When had they gotten so distant, so far away that they needed to avoid the real issues in order to communicate? He must’ve felt it, too, that fine line of trust between them fraying, as he was staring at her as if she were a complex puzzle he couldn’t quite piece together.
    â€œYou could have come with me,” he said softly. “I asked.”
    â€œI know. I just . . . I thought we needed a little time apart, even though we get plenty.” She glanced around the room with its cozy furniture and big windows. “But I did need to get out of here, you know, had to see something besides these four walls.”
    â€œI suppose.” Then nodding, he added, “Yeah, I get it. You could go stir-crazy here.”
    â€œSome people think I already am.”
    He snorted a laugh, walked up, and hugged her fiercely. “I know,” he whispered against her hair. “We’re working on that.” He’d always been strong and athletic, and whenever he’d held her, it had felt that he’d never wanted to let go. Now the scent of his aftershave reminded her of what it had been like to fall in love with him. Tears burned the edges of her eyes, but she blinked them back. “Next time, come with me,” he said.
    â€œOkay,” she agreed, fighting the urge to break down and cling to him. But, really, do you trust him? Even now as he’s lying to you?
    She let go of him and started to step away, but his hand stayed on her arm. “What’s happened to us, Wyatt? We used to be . . .”
    â€œCloser?”
    â€œI was going to say we used to have fun with each other.”
    â€œI know.” He kissed the top of her head. “We will again soon. I promise.”
    He had the brains not to add, when you get better, but it was there, standing between them like an invisible barrier, one they couldn’t really define, much less scale.
    â€œI’ll hold you to it,” she said, lying through her teeth as he reached for his jacket, which had been slung negligently over a nearby chair.
    â€œGood. Now, look, I have to go to Seattle—it’s just for a night, maybe two, depending on how receptive my client is to negotiating his way out of a lease; then I’ll be back. In the meantime, you can always reach me on my cell.”
    She nodded.
    â€œAnd I’ve asked Dr. McPherson to stop by again.”
    â€œI already have an appointment with her later in the week.”
    â€œI know, but I saw her today in town. She asked about you and so we set it up.” He lifted a shoulder. “Couldn’t hurt, now, could it?”
    She was surprised that he brought up the psychiatrist. “So you just ran into her?”
    â€œNot really. Once I learned that I’d be away, I called her, met her for coffee, and suggested she spend some time here.”
    â€œShe’s