Page 61 of Hell Bent

“No,” she said, sounding so tired. Tired of what? Me? Work? What? “I’m under the weather, that’s all.”

“Oh. Sorry to hear that. What’s the problem?”

“If you must know,” she said, “my period.”

“Oh.” I laughed. “Glad it’s nothingworse.”

“Yeah. I’ll see you this afternoon. I may not be …”

“Hey,” I said. “If you’re not up for going out, we’ll stay in and sit on the couch. Works for me. I ordered another one, by the way.”

“Another one what?” Still sounding distracted.

“Another couch. Coming next week. Since Ben’s lying on the one I’ve got every single time I come home. Usually with Lexi, which leaves about zero room for me.”

“I noticed that,” she said.

“If you’re not feeling good, make him get off it and let you lie down. He can sit in a chair for once.”

“Honestly,” she said, “I was in bed by eight last night. It wasn’t a problem.”

“OK. Look—I have to go. Take care of yourself.”

“I will. It’s no big deal. Have a great game. I’ll watch you. I can even lie on the couch once Ben leaves.” Which sounded at least marginally normal.

When I got home, though, she wasn’t there.

Ben said, when I asked, “I don’t know. She texted me that she was out and running late, but I figured she’d be back before me. It took me forever to get home. I just got here about half an hour ago. I should’ve run home instead like we did last time.”

I said, “Well, she’s not obligated to be here all the time, I guess.”

“Yeah,” Ben said, “but after she said she couldn’t go to your game? Now she went someplace else instead?”

“She’ll have a reason,” I said.

“Maybe she figured out that thing about the money,” he said. “That football players end up broke. Or just that you’re cheap.”

I was about to answer that when I heard the front door open. I looked up, so did Ben, and there she was, coming infrom the hall. Yoga pants, long-sleeved T-shirt, hair in a ponytail, no makeup. Her face, though …

I said, “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” she said. “I’m fine. I’m sorry you guys beat me home. I got delayed. Had to wait.” She sank into a chair, still holding her purse, still wearing her coat. “And I didn’t even get to watch the end of the game. What happened?”

I said, “Hang on. Hang on, now.”

“What?” she said. Ben didn’t say anything. He was looking at Alix, looking at me.

“Something’s wrong,” I said. “What?”

“I told you,” she said. “I sometimes have painful periods. I’m fine.”

Ben said, “Oh, gross.” He said it under his breath, but Alix said, no trace of her normal humor in her voice, “Women have periods. Every woman in the world, every single month until menopause, unless they’re pregnant. Half the population. It’s a fact of life, and it’s nothing we need to be ashamed of and nothing we need to hide. Get used to it.”

“OK,”Ben said. “Geez.”

I stood up. Alix eyed me warily and said, “I’ll be good to go out. I’ll lie down for an hour or two and?—”

I said, “Come talk to me.”