hear every fucking time she says them.
“Lisa? Babe, where are you?” I shout out, as I shut the door behind me.
A cold chill works its way up my spine as my eyes take in the living room. Everything is fucking immaculate, reminding me of when Lauren was alive. It’s like every bit of Lisa has been sucked out of the house, leaving it feeling cold and lonely.
Don’t get me wrong; Lisa’s not a slob, but she doesn’t mind the house looking lived in.
Her purse usually sits on the coffee table, and she tosses her shoes by the front door. Her clothes stay wherever she takes them off until she is ready to do laundry. But now, there’s not a damn thing out of place.
This house hasn’t been this clean in years, not since Lauren died. Even when she started spending most of her time at her man’s house, she still came in every other day and cleaned the house like some kind of fucking maid. I used to hate that she cleaned our house while she was laying her head in another man’s bed. When Lisa finally moved in and started leaving her shit all over the place, I finally felt like this house became a home.
“Lisa!” I shout again, as I walk into the kitchen.
I let out a relieved breath when I see a pot of egg noodles boiling on the stove.
I’m about to call out again, when she rushes past me to pull the pan from the heat. “Sorry, I was making the bed.”
My eyes blink as I take in her words. “What the fuck were you doing that for?”
She never makes the bed unless she’s changing the sheets. She says there’s no point, when we’re just gonna mess it up again. Knowing we changed the sheets the day she cut her hand and got blood on them, I know that isn’t what happened today.
Lisa shrugs as she drains the noodles. “I wanted to get stuff cleaned up around here.”
“Why?” I ask, walking up to her back and wrapping my arms around her. “I agree with you. We’re just gonna get it messy again.”
Again, she shrugs her shoulders. “I just figured it was time to start getting some things in order here.”
Something about her choice of words sends another chill down my spine. “Why do you think that?”
Her body goes taut beneath my hands. “No reason, just got tired of the mess. I know you’re not used to living like that.”
Shit, what the fuck is going on in her head? I close my eyes and hope I’m able to find the right words. “It wouldn’t matter to me if I lived in a fucking dump, as long as you were there with me.”
Instead of replying, she pulls away from me, grabs a pair of oven mitts, and pulls a pan out of the oven. She sets it on top of the stove, then tosses the oven mitts down, not once looking in my direction.
“I made homemade stroganoff,” she says, as she pulls two plates out of the cabinet. “I made enough for Smoke to have some, too, so you can take him the leftovers when you go back to the clubhouse.”
She avoids my eyes as she sets the table. With each second that passes, I can feel a wall growing taller and taller between us. I don’t like it one fucking bit.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” I ask, as she walks back to the stove to grab the noodles so she can pour them into a serving dish.
Her body freezes, her knuckles turning white, as she squeezes the serving dish. If she doesn’t loosen her grip, she’s gonna either break the bowl or bust open her stitches. “Nothing’s wrong, Round.”
“Then why the hell are you acting so fucking weird?” I growl out, taking a step toward her. “Cleaning the house, making the bed, not looking into my eyes. It’s like you’ve switched personalities since I left this morning.”
Anger flashes in her eyes as she says, “Well, today has been the first time we’ve been apart for more than a few hours in days, so I had a little time to think.”
That doesn’t sound good, not fucking good at all. “What were you thinking about?”
Gone is the woman that wouldn’t meet my eyes, and in her place is the spitfire I’ve grown to love. She drops the noodles on the counter and turns to me, placing her hands on her hips. She opens her mouth a few