Leather & Lark (The Ruinous Love Trilogy, #2) (61)

“You do realize I’m not going to be dickmatized into Lachlan Kane’s accelerated apology plan, right?” I say as I slide my palm onto his. He laughs as he lowers me into the car.

“I’ll put that in my notes,” he says. “‘Do not dickmatize Lark into forgiveness.’”

When he starts driving, he grips the steering wheel too tightly, getting a little distracted when I connect my phone to the stereo. When I ask him about music he stalls the car at a red light. He grumbles a handful of swears and his cheeks flush crimson. When he glances my way, I turn to look out the window, hiding a teasing grin.

It takes us a minute to find our stride. But soon we’re talking about … everything. By the time we reach our destination, we’ve been talking for a half hour nonstop about the band I’ve been rehearsing with, and I feel at ease.

At least I do until we turn down a quiet lane and roll to a stop at the end of a paved walkway.

“What is this?” My head swivels between Lachlan and the log ranch house at the end of the path. Its black and gold sign merely says ROCK ROSE LODGE. My eyes narrow with suspicion, all the comfort I felt in Lachlan’s presence suddenly gone and replaced with an uncomfortable knot that tightens in my chest. “Is this some kind of place where you’re going to leave me in an attempt to cure my—what did you call it—glitter psycho streak?”

“Christ Jesus. No, Lark.” Lachlan reaches down and releases my seat belt, guiding the buckle away from my body and back to its resting place by my shoulder. “Rock Rose Lodge is a sleep retreat.”

My breath hitches in my throat as I attempt to process his words. “A … what?”

“A sleep retreat. They specialize in treating insomnia.” Lachlan pulls a brochure from the interior pocket of his jacket and passes it to me. “Sound therapy sessions. Yoga. Acupuncture. Light therapy. Meal plans. There’s a sleep specialist here, Dr. Sargsyan. She’ll help to make a personalized plan for you to follow.”

“Sleep retreat …?” I whisper, my words an echo, stuck on a delay.

“That’s right. And you’re going to stay for the long weekend and look after yourself. If it doesn’t work, that’s okay. We’ll keep looking for something that does. The time off will be good for you regardless.”

My eyes are narrow slits. “Did you just abduct me for nefarious purposes under the guise of sleep?”

“No.”

“But—”

“You need. Time. Off.” His gaze holds steady to mine as though he hopes to somehow etch those words into my mind. I press my lips together as tears sting my eyes. Lachlan’s hand folds into a fist as though he wants to touch me but stops himself. “Look, I know you could just call an Uber as soon as I drive off. But I want you to try.”

“You’re not staying?”

“No,” he says as he slides a hand across the back of his neck. “I thought it would be better for you if I didn’t.”

“Um … yeah,” I say with a brittle smile. “Makes sense.” Though I drop my gaze to the brochure, I only skim the details, because the truth is, I really want to do this. But I’m needed elsewhere. I fold it and set it on my lap, turning my eyes to the lodge. “It’s just, there’s so much going on right now.”

“And all that shit can wait. You can spare a little time.”

Other than a faint nod, I don’t reply. I just keep my attention fixed to the retreat as I fidget, playing a phantom song with one hand on the back of the other. Nobody’s ever done anything like this for me before. “What about you?” I finally ask, still unwilling to look in Lachlan’s direction.

“I’ll be out for the rest of the day. But you can call me tonight if you need me, yeah? I should be back by eleven. I’ve got no plans to speak of for the rest of the weekend.”

His words are met with silence as a thousand thoughts swirl in my head. A blush creeps up my neck as I look out the window and worry my bottom lip. I want to go. But what if something happens to Ethel? What about Bentley? My responsibilities? Band rehearsals? And most unexpected, what if Lachlan is trying to get rid of me for the weekend? Is there a woman he wants to take home? It’s not like we’re a real couple. We never talked about not being with other people. So why does a hole burn in my chest when I wonder if that’s the real reason he’s doing this?

“It’s just a few days, Lark. If something comes up, it won’t take me long to come and get you. Conor is looking through the information we pulled for leads on Foster’s people and I’ve got him monitoring police investigations on the murder cases, so there’s not much we can do until he finishes his work. And I’ll drop in on Ethel. I’ll take Bentley to see her. You can turn your phone off, I have the number for the retreat and they’ll let you know right away if something happens. But everything will be fine, yeah …?”

I’m not sure what I’m supposed to say. How am I supposed to tell him that I’m afraid of losing something that isn’t mine to begin with? Why should it mean anything to me what he’s doing or who he’s seeing? It’s not a real marriage. It’s not real.

Silence stretches on in the car. And then I feel his touch. A simple graze of his fingers to the bones on the back of my hand.

My head whips around and I pin Lachlan with a lethal glare.