Deadly Charm by Claudia Mair Burney Page B

the blank.
    He waited. And waited. “Were you with him, Bell?”
    â€œWho?”
    â€œYou know exactly who I’m talking about. Say it .”
    â€œIt?”
    He stared at me. Yanked his pants on. He grabbed his shirt which he’d placed on top of mine on the chair. “I can’t believe you. Have you been seeing him this whole time we’ve been separated?”
    â€œSeeing who?”
    â€œYou’re really irritating me, Bell.”
    â€œNo, I haven’t been seeing him.”
    â€œWho?”
    â€œWho are you talking about, Jazz?”
    â€œSay his name, woman.”
    â€œWhose name?”
    He put his shirt on. Slowly. He looked like he wanted to say something to me, but he swallowed it and probably a massive bitter pill at the same time.
    God’s voice, that small, quiet presence that I knew was Him spoke to me.
    Don’t let him leave like that .
    I needed to stop playing around. His family and best friend said he missed me like crazy. I could let him know I love him.
    â€œJazz, you shouldn’t drive when you’ve been drinking.”
    Punked out again!
    â€œAnd you shouldn’t be seeing Rocky after what happened to us.”
    He’d buttoned his shirt and tucked it into his trousers.
    â€œJazz, don’t leave like this. Please?”
    He glared at me. “I’m out.”
    â€œI haven’t been seeing Rocky. I saw him for the first time Wednesday when he invited me to Ezekiel Thunder’s crusade.And I saw him again today. I only went over there because of poor baby Zeekie’s death.”
    â€œI’m supposed to believe that?”
    â€œYou can ask Rocky if you don’t believe me.”
    â€œI don’t have anything to say to blondilocks.”
    â€œHe didn’t know I’d married you, Jazz, that’s the truth.”
    â€œAnd you didn’t bother to tell him. Not even when I gave you an opportunity to.”
    â€œDo you want to talk about that night?”
    Jazz suddenly developed Tourette’s syndrome. Tics and expletives exploded out of him. Most of them having to do with Rocky. I let him rage on until finally I tried again to broach the subject of what we really needed to do.
    â€œWhy don’t we talk about it, baby?”
    More tics and expletives. And his own twist on my game. “Don’t call me baby.”
    I crawled out of the bed and covered myself with the quilt. I may have gotten a peek at his tightie whities, but I didn’t want him to see how my cup runneth over! But he saw just the same. Jazz actually blushed, pinking his ears and cheeks. He noticed my discomfort and looked away.
    And speaking of discomfort. My ankle still buzzed with pain. I hobbled over to my chest of drawers. Jazz noticed I was hurt but didn’t say anything.
    I slipped on a long-sleeved T-shirt with a tattoo design on the front. I’d had to get that shirt in large to contain my new girth. When I was dressed, I spoke to him. “I know you aren’t ready to deal with it, but when you are, I’ll be here. I’m sorry I hurt you, Jazz.”
    He turned away from me again and stared into the mirror on my dresser. “I hate you, Bell,” he said to his own reflection.
    But he didn’t leave me.
    Â 
    I got an idea. Like the Grinch I got a wonderful, awful idea. I knew exactly what to do! If only he’d go for it.
    I’d holed up in the bedroom, and Jazz stayed in the living room, making it much easier for him not to talk to me. I finally eased into the living room, careful not to frighten him in case he’d bite.
    He surprised me by speaking first. “You need to stop walking until your ankle gets better.”
    â€œYou noticed I was hurt.” I sat next to him.
    â€œI always notice when you’re hurt.” He reached down and cradled my ankle in his hands. Placed it across his lap. Nice and cozy. “Do you want some ice?”
    â€œI had quite enough ice when I