Hold My Tear, I’m Getting My Wife Back! ( Leanne Castillo ) novel Chapter 139

Chemipto 139 

jeannya bemaltan render consolations made it impossible auber to stem th 

they closer, mapedagoniai real Timber Trust me From now on, no one 

not the disunderstand that 

hat she know sitetiawrs bon 

unna’s rouve valor the embrace and comforting warmth. fumm 

burtis kissed her none up and theth bet tie tipeginity/ar kisa mobit to anothe, devoid of esiree 

It’s okay new, Aunee 

one closed her eyes forging herself an bawdyerroin the riveloping tenderness and 

erders her heart. 

bould you leave, piesse?need to be blottone.” 

cirtis quotested ou’ll be saved on youruraw 

fes made it alone at those years instist te band wont be acated.” 

Anne do you have to be so stubbbrightnowd 

GO 

aturesista vou coming to my rescue todovi buturrak demand after he because of you, so 

20 ne peen now 

tenne sredied her emotions. The hurt i’ve zuliert hat commte from you hit be safer if 

bpkeep your distance. 

turas so this softness freeze and shatter against her cold, tund mance 

sedaten sad he stood up from the bed, and looked at the woman withitis her eyeboclosed, entendienussderness than as dry as beet jerky, leaving moliung by bobisisionessand 

tiffness. 

Answer to heartless.” 

aking the warme veshish of his embrace, and seemed the roontserrature topped learce degrees. 

Juried herself in selfow the covers, reminding herself over and overver 

velhanteYou’ve barve best accustomed to his indifference tona dono tienes isp haven’t 

ou? 

henbed/she lay quietly autenty herding the fear, the aftershocks the loneliness following all emotions fadenstadbertshawhs utterly calm. 

She knew her words had been harsh because only harshness could drive him away. 

Regardless, she wouldn’t lie there without Curtis, and his comfort was well-intentioned. She had been a bit too cruel. 

She got up from the bed and went downstairs. 

In the living room, Curtis sat on the couch, his dirty shirt discarded and a first-aid kit beside him. He was struggling to treat a wound on his left shoulder. 

Hearing footsteps on the stairs, he looked up, then quickly averted his gaze. 

Leanne shuffled over and took the saline solution from his hand. “Turn your head.” 

Curtis gave her a perplexed look but complied, revealing a cut on the back of his neck. 

She cleaned his wound, applied iodine, and placed a sterile bandage. Then she grabbed an ice pack for the bruise on his shoulder, left by a bottle’s shattering impact. 

“That’s cold,” Curtis hissed. 

“Just bear with it,” Leanne replied. 

They fell into silence, the villa wrapped in a quiet hush as the deep night flowed through the windows, bringing a touch of something, a subtle, lingering sorrow that belonged to no one in particular. 

Maybe it belonged to the house that had witnessed three years of marriage. 

Curtis turned away, and Leanne couldn’t see his expression. After a moment, she heard him ask, “Why don’t you wear the locket I gave you anymore?” 

Leanne’s lashes trembled slightly. “Because it’s from you.” 

Curtis scoffed, “Because the danger comes from me, right?” 

Leanne replied, “I said that to upset you on purpose. Don’t take it to heart.” 

“Why would you want to upset me on purpose?” Curtis grunted. “I was comforting you. Are you that ungrateful, needing to push me away to feel better?” 

Perhaps the recent brush with danger and the relief of survival allowed them a rare moment of calm conversation like that. 

Leanne explained, “I don’t want to depend on you.” 

“Why?” he pressed. 

“You tell me.” Leanne glanced at the clock, timing when to remove the ice pack to avoid frostbite. “We’re divorced.” 

Without warning, Curtis spun around, grasping her hands in his.