Page 109 of The Restoration Program

“Christ, Nicki… That’s not what it is.”

“Really? Because I didn’t catch a whiff of this until I woke up in that hospital. I don’t care what you call it. You can’t do this and then pretend you can’t hear me when I’m obviously scared out of my mind! I said the safeword! What the fuck?”

She wanted him to cave, to apologize, to coddle her. Instead, he glared at a point across the room. “For the record, I didn’t start judging you when you wanted to dress like a Parisian whore last year.”

Her jaw nearly dropped. “It was just a fucking maid outfit, asshole! A costume! I didn’t try to take away your personhood.” Nicole spat, matching his spite.

Ryan rolled his eyes. “I wasn’t… It was justsex. Don’t try to make this into something philosophical.”

“Shouldn’t I? You already hear me complain how fucking tiny and helpless I feel at every group session. Why the hell does it make you hard, hearing it in the bedroom?” She hated the crack in her voice, the tears that made her throat tight. Nicole swallowed, moving her eyes over the tense curve of his back. Unyielding. “Is that what you want? Should I just be some grateful little toy?”

“Seriously? After all I’ve done to defend you in all this, you think I’m some monster? To be honest—I wouldn’t mind athank youonce in a while instead of always freaking out at me.” Ryan’s expression contorted, and he shoved off to sit at the side of the bed, putting more space between them. “You’re twisting my words, and you know it. It was just a game! I’m sorry I ever brought it up.”

“There was something there,” she pressed. She nearly flinched at the hardened, searching look Ryan gave her. She lowered her voice, but it was impossible to muscle out all the anger and fear. “You haven’t been that eager in ages. Don’t lie. I… I deserve to know ifthisis what it takes for you to stop looking at me like your little shelter rescue.”

“What thefuck, Nicole?” He shot to his feet, the headboard rattling against her back as she shrank away in response. Though he didn’t come any closer, the simple act of standing made him a towering threat. “I thought we were on the same side here! Now all of a sudden I’m not treating you right?”

“If we were on the same side, you’dlistento me instead of doing whatever the hell that was!” He gave a derisive laugh and rubbed his eyes.

“I did listen! You’re the one who dragged me away from my work! The one who begged me! And now I’m the bad guy? I’m trying to make the best of things, and you’re so fucking determined to stay miserable!”

“Sorry that being your sex slave doesn’t fit my version of ‘making the best of things’!”

His glare injected her with such bitter fury, it was a wonder she didn’t spontaneously combust. She fought the childish urge to hide under the covers, the wordmonsterstill ringing in her ears.

“This one thing,” he said in a surprisingly quieter voice. “All I wanted was for us to try thisonething. I’m working to keep a roof over our heads, killing myself with this insane schedule so you’re not home alone, and you couldn’t at least try this for me?”

“Do you think I owe you this?” she said, barely above a horrified whisper.

“Motherfucker. You’re gonna find a way to spinanythingI say right now, aren’t you?”

Without warning, he leaned closer, crowding her. She raised her hands in defense, but Ryan merely shoved the first aid kit closer to the pillow.

“Fix yourself, then,” he said. “Since apparently I’m not allowed to touch my wife.” He snatched his laptop from the bed and stalked to the door. He paused to glare one last time over his shoulder. “And you better not bring this shit up at the support group. The way you’d tell it, I’d probably leave the building in handcuffs. And where would that leave you?”

Long after his footsteps thudded away, she sat frozen on the pillow. A few minutes later, sobs wracked through her. She covered her mouth to muffle her cries. A creaking sound made her gasp, but it wasn’t Ryan’s return—only the sound of him settling into the couch for the night.

The growing sting of his bite finally made her inch her way to the mattress. Sniffling, she eyed the first aid kit and braced herself to wrestle with the supplies.

Even as she struggled, she didn’t yearn for Ryan’s help. Not once.

DAY ONE HUNDRED SEVENTEEN

The next night, Nicole volunteered to sleep on the couch instead.

DAY ONE HUNDRED FORTY

“I’m grabbing another cup of coffee. You want more?”

Nicole no longer flinched at the sound of Ryan’s voice. She glanced away from her laptop screen and held up her second empty cup, cracking a chipper smile. “I’ll need half the pot to get through this data,” she said. “I’m glad more companies are offering NüPrint gigs—but would I be too whiny if I said I miss when it was hard to find one?”

“Poor baby,” he chuckled, plucking the cup from her hand.

He needed less than a glance to measure the perfect amount in the dropper. He squeezed the coffee into her cup and had it back in her hands within seconds.

“You’ve gotten good at that,” she said.

“What can I say?” His faint smile stayed plastered to his face as he settled back into his seat across the kitchen table and returned to his own work.