In the months since you'd tied the knot with Lee, your body had gotten used to the warmth of his embracing you every night. The way his broad torso felt against your back, his arms wrapped against you, sometimes sneaking under your pyjamas if he was feeling handsy. His musky, almost smoky, scent was intoxicating, not in a suffocating sense but more a constant comfort filling the room. Your legs would end up a tangled mess by morning as Lee needed to touch as much of you as physically possible like you might disappear if he couldn't feel your skin.
That's why it was such a shock when he moved your arm off his chest.
"Not tonight darling," he spoke softly, turning so his back met your eyes. Confusion swept over you, your arms dropping to your sides.
"Okay, goodnight Lee," you whispered, trying to hide the hurt that threatened tears.
It was the first bad night's sleep you'd had since moving in with him. You felt like a stranger in your own bed. Well, you suppose it was his bed really, you just crept in each night and shared it with him. There'd been no need to buy a new house, let alone a new bed when you married Lee: his house in Brewer Heights was more than sufficient for a newlywed couple. But now you realised it would always be Lee Bodecker's space that you were merely occupying. Perhaps all wives felt that way.
You woke before him and crept slowly to the bathroom to get ready for the day. His body was still on its side, turned away from where yours had lain. The slow rise and fall of his chest signified that he'd slept soundly the whole night. At least one of you had.
Moving as if on autopilot, you didn't notice the hob was too high until the spitting oil landed on the back of your right hand. The slight burn brought you back to your senses. Lee would be up soon, expecting his breakfast, and here you were still sulking about not cuddling for one night. Cursing under your breath, you plated up his eggs next to the toast. You'd been so happy when Lee brought the toaster home; you didn't have to use the oven to make breakfast anymore, it was always such a hassle. Placing his food at the head of the table, you went to wake him, slightly louder than how you'd crept out of the room.
He was now lying in the middle of your bed, arms stretched to your side, as if reaching for your absent body. You moved to his side and brushed your fingers through his hair. He really needed a haircut.
"Lee darling," you knew your voice would wake him, "Your breakfast is ready."
He stirred slightly, "Hmmm, five more minutes baby. Wanna cuddle some more." Maybe he'd forgotten what happened the previous night.
"It'll go cold Lee. I know you don't like reheated eggs."
"Okay, I'm getting up sweetheart," he really did open his eyes then, the blue was always mesmerising.
Breakfast was silent, both of you sipping your coffees when he'd wolfed down the eggs and toast. You wondered whether he'd just been really tired last night, or maybe too hot, and that's why he moved you off him. Whatever the reason, you hoped tonight would be different.
It wasn't.
In fact, Lee didn't come home until you were already in bed. The slam of the front door woke you from your daze. His faint footsteps towards the kitchen, the closing of the fridge and the slight hum of the microwave reassured you. At least he was eating something. You knew he regularly went without meals if you didn't prepare them. His job as the newly appointed sheriff didn't give him a lot of time to eat, let alone to meal prep.
It was almost half an hour later when Lee climbed into your bed, pulling the duvet more to his side. You took this as an opportunity.
"Lee?" you started, knowing he didn't like coming home late and might be more open to cuddling, "Is everything okay?"
