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Monti took her time turning back, keeping her hands at her side and in plain view where Athena could see them. “Twenty-two years, you say?”

Athena hummed. “We’ve known each other since he was born.”

“You’re older?” Monti raised an eyebrow at her. “I didn’t peg you for being a cougar.”

“Hardly.” Athena lifted her chin to meet Monti’s gaze, a direct and firm stare.

“I think that’s exactly what marrying a younger man is called.”

Pinching her face, Athena shook her head in disbelief. “Kevin is one year younger than me. When you grow up with money, the circles are small, and they keep them small on purpose.”

“Are you saying you two were destined to be together?” Monti touched Athena’s upper arm lightly, as if they were old friends having a conversation. Athena stared at it before dragging her gaze up Monti’s arm to her lips and then her eyes.

“Anything but.” Athena pulled away from Monti and out of her reach, a silent signal that the touch was too much. Monti retreated, brushing her hands over her hips. “Are we done for the evening?”

“If you’d like that,” Monti answered.

Athena didn’t want to be. She wanted Monti’s magic hands back on her neck and shoulders. She wanted to relax even more than she already had. More importantly, she wanted to sleep. But none of those words left her lips. She couldn’t make any of them move past the clog in her throat—the part of herself that prevented anything close to intimacy from developing.

She had no doubt Monti was judging Kevin, and their relationship. What kind of husband would come home from a trip and not kiss his wife? The kind who married for all the reasons except love. Standing, Athena left her jacket on the chair. She could do this. She could stand before Monti with her jacket off and not be embarrassed by her body.

“Never get married, Monti,” Athena warned.

Athena clenched her fists by her sides, already feeling the strain from before returning to her body. She snagged her jacket and slipped it on, buttoning it tight in the front of her body. She was three strides toward the door when she stopped and faced Monti full on.

“It only destroys what’s sacred in a person.”

seven

“I’m sorry to call you here so late.”

Athena stepped into the library. Monti hadn’t been expecting the phone call, and she’d been on a long walk by the river, the chill air a sharp contrast to her warm muscles. But now the chill was starting to seep back into her bones.

“I almost told you no.” Monti stood by the wingback chair, her fingers rubbing over the fabric on the top of it. She wasn’t quite sure why she was there. Athena had called her, personally, since Fallon wasn’t at work, but that still didn’t explain why Monti had felt so compelled to be here.

Athena was a wounded soul, that much was clear. But Monti wasn’t a therapist anymore. She’d given that up. She’d given everything up in her attempt to find inner peace. And yet, it still seemed to slip through her fingers at every step.

“I need your help.”

Monti sighed heavily. “The thing is, Ms. Pruitt, that I don’t think it’s my help you need.”

“I slept, you know, after the other day.”

“Did you?” Monti brushed her hands along the top of the chair, not making eye contact with Athena. Why was she here again?

“Only a few hours, but it was more—”

“Than the four nights before,” Monti chimed in.

Athena lifted her chin up, almost looking down her nose at Monti. “Yes. More than before. But I haven’t slept since then.”

“You do realize, I hope, that your issue with sleep isn’t because of the muscles in your neck.” Monti squeezed the chair, as if it was her lifeline. She really should just walk out of here. She should go back to her van, leave town, and find somewhere else to explore.

“I didn’t ask you here for that.”

“I know,” Monti answered, finally looking into Athena’s eyes. “But anything I do is only going to be temporary.”

“I’m not asking for you to fix my problems.”