Too Hard to Forget (Romancing the Clarksons Book 3)

by Tessa Bailey

  Her other option was to stay behind and take a leap. To believe in the connection between her and Elliott. A connection her soul had continued to believe in far longer than her mind knew was reasonable. Something in her gut hadn’t let her give up the fight, even though she’d walked away from it three years ago. Maybe she’d been lying to herself that she’d come to Cincinnati to get closure. Maybe she’d come because her love for Elliott had refused to die, and she’d known—known—she just needed to come back here and shake him up. He’d always been a stubborn motherfucker. She’d matched him at one time, but being stubborn now—walking away even though the notion made her hurt head to toe—could break them both.

  Alice didn’t want her around. Peggy tried to swallow the jab of sadness but didn’t manage it. Elliott’s daughter was only beginning to reconnect with her father and she didn’t need an interloper messing with their new flow. That needed to be the biggest factor of her decision. Because she’d fallen a little for Alice, too, and wouldn’t hurt her for anything. Not even a closet full of Chanel.

  Realizing her throat ached from missing Elliott already and how much worse it would be when she took off tomorrow for New York, Peggy blew out the breath she was holding and flipped open the journal.

  Yes, my Peggy is a Rubik’s Cube with many sides, all bright and colorful. But the color block that always clicks into place at just the right time is her strength. There are people who would count Peggy out in the clutch, or expect her to call in one of her big brothers to fight battles on her behalf. And they would, by the way. Those two would walk onto any battlefield for their sisters, even in the middle of a squabble (when are they not in the middle of a squabble?).

  But Peggy is like the Earth. The outer crust might look sweet, but it’s bolstered by a hundred thousand miles of rock hard will and an inner core that could rival that of an Army general. Does using that lovely outer layer to get what she wants once in a while make her weak? No, it means she has studied her arsenal and knows when to brandish her country’s flag and when to pull out a bazooka.

  When the time comes to face whatever put a dark spot on Peggy’s heart, sure as the one on her index finger, I hope Peggy realizes that new weaponry arrives all the time during a battle. Reinforcements show up and the tide changes. It takes time to accustom oneself to new roles, new experiences, and sometimes it means flying a helicopter when you’re more comfortable in a tank. But there’s no one more adaptable than my Peggy. She’s my Rubix Cube, and she’ll twist herself into the right pattern when the battle call sounds.

  Peggy closed the journal with trembling hands, a cool, calming presence coming to rest on her shoulders. “Thanks, Mom,” she whispered into the Indiana night.

  * * *

  They were losing by three points. One minute remained on the clock and the Bearcats had just recovered a fumble at Temple’s forty-yard line. When everything should have been a tunnel of screams and frantic decisions, Elliott centered himself and breathed.

  Winning had always meant he’d earned his salary. That he hadn’t let down the players who’d picked his program over several others. And more recently, winning had been validation that choosing the sport over his personal responsibilities hadn’t been for nothing, however hollow the proof made him feel. But as he stood on the sidelines, his throat raw from shouting over the chanting crowd, the whistles, the stomping feet, the cheerleaders, the sideline reporters, the trash talkers, the cannon that fired every time someone scored a touchdown…winning meant something different.

  Because his daughter was standing ten feet behind him, listening to every word that came out of his mouth. She was swamped inside a giant Bearcats sweatshirt, the sleeves too long for her arms. He’d asked two of the medical trainers to keep an eye on her, and when the pair had cowered in response, Elliott realized he’d never spoken to either of them before. So he’d shaken their hands and asked their names. Simple as that. Now he couldn’t turn around without them sending him enthusiastic thumbs-up where they flanked Alice.

  He kind of liked not being the boogeyman.

  How long would he have gone on alienating everyone if Peggy hadn’t shown up in Cincinnati? Forever?

  Yes. Elliott was positive of that. For his daughter’s sake—and the sake of other players like Kyler Tate—he wouldn’t go back to being that hard man. No matter what happened, he would live to honor the way Peggy had shaken up their lives. Would he live hollow or whole, though? As much as he wanted to be the good man Peggy deserved, he knew he’d be living with bleeding insides once she left.

  Winning wasn’t only important because he wanted to make Alice proud, but that sixth sense in the back of his mind was firing again. He and his daughter needed this victory together. They needed this to happen today. Right now. Sure as there was only one minute left on the scoreboard clock. Sure as Peggy was on the line. He’d felt the conflict in Alice on the drive back to Cincinnati, and he sensed it now, even as he spoke into his headset and held up the right amount of fingers to signal the play to his quarterback.

  Elliott hadn’t been in the position to lose a game in a good while, but a calm settled over him as he made the call and watched his team move into formation. Tension strapped in the players on the sideline like a seatbelt, their gloved hands reaching out for one another, prayers being whispered. His offensive coordinator clapped a hand down on his shoulder and said something Elliott didn’t hear, because his thoughts were on Peggy. Was she watching? God, he would have given his final days on this earth to have her there at that moment, standing beside him and mixing baseball and football references, pulling everything into perspective with a wink.

  The snap took place on the field, the ball went up…but instead of Elliott watching to see if Kyler made the reception, he turned and looked at Alice. Her face was buried in the sleeves of her sweatshirt, her eyes peeking out over the top. But at the last second, she met her father’s gaze…and that’s how they stayed as the crowd essentially lost their minds. The roar was deafening but something in his head muffled it, made it almost silent as chaos erupted around him. He opened his arms and Alice rushed in, throwing her arms around his neck, hugging him in a way he couldn’t remember her doing since she was in elementary school.

  “I’m sorry,” Elliott said. “I’m going to do better, okay?”

  “Okay, me too. Me too.”

  The crowd’s initial explosion had died down and their chants of “Tate, Tate, Tate” had kicked off, loud enough to be heard ten miles away. But even with the pride simmering in his chest for Kyler and the family he knew must be ecstatic in their living room back in Indiana, his daughter’s tears plopping on his neck pulled all of Elliott’s focus.

  Alice tugged out of his embrace, her face and eyes red. “God, of course I look like crap in front of a bunch of football players,” she sobbed, swiping at her tears with the sleeve of her sweatshirt.

  “You look great,” Elliott forced through stiff lips. “Great.”

  For long moments, both of them observed the mayhem. His players were still on the field, dog piled on top of Kyler, and for once, he didn’t order them into the locker room with a reminder to act like grown men. He just let them have the moment. His coaching staff were recapping every single second of the game, gesticulating wildly. As usual, everyone steered clear of him, except for the two trainers who stopped by to give him awkward back pats and more of their signature thumbs-up move. That was good enough for now. He’d work on the rest of them later.

  “Dad,” Alice said, drawing his attention back. She shook her head, knocking loose a handful of tears. “Peggy should be here, too.”

  He couldn’t swallow, couldn’t get a good breath around the hope that rushed into his lungs, so all he managed was a hoarse, “Yeah.”

  Alice rolled her eyes, but he caught her lower lip trembling. “Well, go get her.”

  * * *

  A man didn’t just wing a proposal to a woman like Peggy. Especially when you were a planner to the bone. After the game
ended and he gave his customary locker room speech and made a statement in the media room, Elliott took Alice home. Without him having to ask, she called her aunt and asked to spend the night, since Elliott was going to be busy. After sharing a fair bit of uncomfortable eye contact over that assumption—which he prayed to God came true—Alice closed herself in her room to pack.

  The fact that Elliott had a speech to make tonight at the fund-raiser had gotten lost in the chaos of driving to Indiana and the football game, so in addition to finding the right words for Peggy, he was jotting down some talking points. Although both speeches were beginning to blur together because he couldn’t concentrate on football coach talk while his head was filled with Peggy.

  When Elliott’s hand cramped, he leaned back in his chair and checked the clock, as if he hadn’t done that enough for today. One hour. He needed to be there in one hour. The game had nothing on tonight in terms of importance. But he was ready. Adrenaline moved through his veins like gasoline in the fuel line of a race car—and it sped up at the mere thought of seeing Peggy. Finding her face in the audience or across the room and just existing in the knowledge that such a gorgeous, dynamic woman had wanted him at all at one time. That she’d been beneath him in the dark and handed him her burdens in the cave. Taken his in return. He wanted to look at her and remember those moments, because who knew if he’d ever get the chance again?

  The doorbell rang and Elliott pushed to his feet, glad Alice’s aunt, Tabitha, had shown up a little early, so he would have time to change into something decent. Lord, he was still in his game gear. Peggy liked him in his game clothes, though, didn’t she? A smile ticked up one end of his mouth as he answered the door, revealing Alice’s aunt on the other side. When she stepped into the foyer, her smile was somewhat pinched, as it always was when they crossed paths, which didn’t happen too often since Alice communicated with her and made plans independently.

  Elliott called for Alice down the hallway, who replied in a singsong voice that she’d be out in a minute. Tabitha faced him, hanging on to her purse strap, and that movement reminded Elliott of Judith. Maybe it was the mission to bring home his woman—a new woman, to Alice and Tabitha, at least—that spurred a sense of duty in Elliott, but he found himself speaking, before he could sort out his thoughts. “Thank you for…continuing to be a part of Alice’s life.” He blew out a breath. “I know you’re not my biggest fan and I understand why. But I wanted you to know that I appreciate what you do for my daughter.”

  If Tabitha was surprised, none of it registered on her face. She ran her fingers down the strap of her purse in a fluid movement, a smile playing on her mouth, and Elliott got the impression she was gearing up for something.

  “You’re welcome,” she said finally. “But I do it for my sister. Someone has to keep her memory alive.”

  Elliott took that hit on the chin without flinching. “I’ll own that. I haven’t done near enough to help Alice remember her mother. That’s going to change.”

  “Yes, Alice mentioned over the phone there were going to be some changes around here.” Tabitha’s expression grew even more pinched. “Something about a woman who’s been in town all of three days. That’s pretty impulsive, wouldn’t you say? I’m not sure this change in you is for the better.”

  Elliott could see the path they were walking down, and he could do nothing to turn them back. He didn’t want to. If turning a new corner meant owning up to his shortcomings, so be it. He would take it like a man. “She’s been back in town three days, but she’s been with me longer. Am I moving fast? Yes. But I can’t let her leave again.”

  A flash of resentment. “Where was this enthusiasm when my sister was alive?”

  He would never say out loud to Tabitha what was carved on his heart. The feelings that burned in his soul for Peggy simply hadn’t existed for Judith. In those early days of marriage and fatherhood, he hadn’t even believed in the possibility of what Peggy inspired inside him. The kind of love that made you ache to prove it any way you could. The kind of love that could put you to sleep for three years in the absence of its potency. Or make you a lunatic at the idea of her ending up with someone else. “All I can say is I’m sorry. I know that’ll never be enough.”

  Her laughter was void of humor. “How long do you think you can keep this up before you start skipping dinners again, Elliott? Before you’re late coming home and quick to leave. Before you start forgetting her birthday, too?” He could feel himself going pale, could hear the demons cackling down deep in the hell of his stomach. “People don’t just change overnight. You’ll fall back into the same pattern soon enough and she’ll be as miserable. I give it a year. Hopefully—”

  “Hopefully what?” he pushed through numb lips.

  Tabitha sighed. “I would never wish ill on another person, but if this woman actually sees fit to stay here…I hope she knows what she’s getting herself into.” She hiked the purse higher on her shoulder and slapped a hand down on the door handle. “The last three phone calls my sister made the day she died were to your office, Elliott. And all the messages went unanswered.” He didn’t have time to recover from the blow of that damning reminder, before she hammered the final nail into his coffin. “I often wonder if she’d still be alive if she called me—or anyone else—instead.”

  The sound of Alice’s bedroom door opening and slamming shut snapped Elliott out of his dark trance. Both adults managed to glue frozen smiles to their faces as she trudged down the hallway, juggling her backpack and cell phone. “Ready.”

  Elliott gave a stiff nod, everything seeming to move in disjointed starts and stops around him. “Okay. I’ll pick you up in the morning.”

  “I’ll drop her off. Have a good night,” Tabitha said before walking out the front door, leaving it open for Alice to follow.

  Alice stared after her aunt a moment, before turning to Elliott. She slipped her cell into the back pocket of her jeans and leaned in to give him a hug, which he returned, grateful she hadn’t deserted him, even though his equilibrium had. “I would wish you luck, but that makes it sound like there’s a chance you could screw up.”

  “Thanks,” he managed as they both stepped back. “But I’ll take the luck anyway.”

  She suddenly looked so wise beyond her twelve years. “Do you think maybe…I should go with you? You seem weirder than usual.”

  He forced himself to smile. “I’m fine. I’ll let you know…how it goes.”

  When the door closed, Elliott moved through the hallway like a ghost, finding himself in the living room without any memory of how he’d gotten there. Had he really expected to transform overnight into the man Peggy deserved? To change from the man who’d delayed returning his wife’s phone calls so he could watch recruitment videos into a devoted husband to Peggy?

  No. Truth was, a man didn’t change. Not without time and effort. Not without work and sweat…surrendering part of himself.

  Inside his pocket, the speech he’d written weighed twenty pounds, words that would now ring hollow. Because he hadn’t proven that he could shift his course and be a different man. He hadn’t made enough of a sacrifice. And sacrifice meant change.

  Was he ready to do what it took?

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Elliott wasn’t coming.

  That fact had become obvious ten minutes ago, but her stupid heart had maintained its steady beat. The way he’d kissed her last night…people didn’t just give kisses like that willy-nilly, did they? Not men like Elliott. That moment outside the Tates’ house had been a force of nature, but it was eroding under the landslide of minutes that continued to tick past, the podium empty at the front of the massive auditorium.

  Usually, the event was only alumni and their guests, but since Elliott had signed on to make a speech, not to mention the buzz created by the online fund-raiser, ticket sales had gone sky high. Bodies were packed in like sardines against the wall, camera phones at the ready. One of Peggy’s fellow ex-cheerleaders was happily acting the ho
st and stalling like a champ, razzing the dean, who sat in the front row absorbing the attention like a sponge. But there was a definite impatience sweeping the room, murmurings beginning to float on the air, and suddenly it seemed as though every member of the alumni committee was staring at Peggy and tapping their wrists.

  Last time Elliott had shattered her heart, she’d screamed and broken things and generally launched the fight of the century. This time, it was a very pronounced, but very quiet, shattering. Like someone had laid a towel over her heart and slowly ground their heel down on it, so no one would hear the cracks forming.

  As if Belmont and Sage had some kind of Peggy Alarm, they caught her eye as they entered through the back of the auditorium. And they just looked at her. Waiting. Not showing her any sympathy, because they knew her well enough. Knew any kind of coddling would be equivalent to throwing her out of a moving vehicle. But she could see that Belmont was holding the Suburban keys, even if he wasn’t being obvious about it. They were inside his curled hand, resting against his thigh.

  Peggy glanced back at the podium one more time, wishing she were twenty-two again, so she could storm up there and kick it over onto its side. Scream epithets into the microphone and walk out with her chin up. But she could see those actions now for what they would be—what they had been those years ago—fear. But she wasn’t scared anymore. Elliott had deserted her again and she stood there, whole and confident. A Clarkson. Her mother’s daughter. The mediator, the bombshell, the liar. And she was fucking good with that.

  But that didn’t mean there wasn’t a smoking crater in the dead center of her chest that would take a long time to repair. Maybe longer than last time.