Titus: Book Two of the Cantrell Brothers Series

Chapter Fifty-Eight

Anna stared up at the ceiling, looking at the strange texture that Titus had once mentioned to her after hours of intense love making. A hawk and trowel design was what he'd called it, one of his arms having been pointed up at the ceiling while the other held her close to his body.

She shivered, taking her eyes off the ceiling to look at the right side of the bed. She didn't know why she looked, for she already knew it would be empty, but Anna still found her eyes traveling to the white pillow. His head wasn't on it, and his body wasn't underneath the blankets, the sight only making her feel more desolate.

She'd been alone for over a day now, trying her hardest not to think about anything. It had worked all of yesterday, but now, as she woke up, her mind started turning again. It reminded her, in the roughed out forms of events, just what had happened two nights ago.

He'd been standing right in front of her, looking as if he'd wanted to smack her one right across the face. His palm had begun to raise when she'd said something, but she hadn't cowered back. She still remembered having the distinct thought that if he wanted to hit her then he could hit her. It would be much less worse than what she deserved.

But Titus hadn't done it; instead, he'd explained in an emotionless voice just what had happened and what he had felt. She'd absorbed it all. Every word, every sign of body language that gave indication if he were telling the truth. If she closed her eyes hard enough, she could see his stance that was a blatant scolding. He had been telling the truth, and he'd only been lying to do something that he'd thought was best for the family.

His intentions had been good, that she could still see. And he had been good to her. He'd kissed her, even though she hadn't wanted anything to do with him at the moment, and then he'd kissed Ella. She had watched as tears streaked down his face, and he told her exactly what she would have to do to get him back.

But once he'd shut that front door, Anna had collapsed. She hadn't been able to handle it, leaving her the entire of yesterday to do only what had to be done. She'd taken care of Ella and had made herself eat some, but after that, she'd only had the strength to put Ella down in her crib and then head off into bed where she'd cried herself to sleep.

With cold fingers, Anna reached up, feeling the crust that peeled off her skin from all the dried up tears. In a way, it reassured her, because now she knew that she hadn't dreamt all of yesterday up. Yesterday had indeed all come and gone, now leaving her here in this cold, empty bed that hadn't been filled since Titus had left to go up into Carson county.

With that leaving, he had taken a piece of her away. She'd asked him to stay, and he hadn't. She'd asked him to not go see a lawyer for apparent reasons, and he hadn't. Those two things, however, were the only instances in which she could find fault with him. The rest was on her.

And that, the knowing that Titus deserved somebody so much more beautiful, smart, and compassionate than her, was what held her back. The fact that he was too good for her was a heart crushing realization; it was the thing that kept her in bed with a iron clad grasp that she could not shake herself from.

More tears began to trickle down her face as she thought about everything he had done for her. From always having been there when she'd been just a child to this marriage that had turned into something she had never even dreamed of and everything in between, Titus had been the one to take care of her. And now that he wasn't here, she didn't know what to do.

She owed practically everything that she had to Titus, and what had she done? She'd accused him – the man who had waited for her for an ungodly amount of time – of cheating on her. Of course, he hadn't, but of course, she'd flipped shit. After what Hunter had done, she'd become some paranoid wife whose only goal was to find fault with the most perfect and yet flawed man that she'd ever come to know.