by Helen Lacey
“Someone?”
“Me, okay?” she said, exasperated.
“I’m not good at being—”
“Vulnerable?” she finished for him. “Yes, I know. But sometimes it’s okay to let someone else be in charge. It’s okay to fall apart.”
“I wouldn’t know.”
She knew that about him. “Well, I’m here if you want to talk.”
He laughed humorlessly and she knew it hurt his healing ribs. “Since when did we ever talk?”
Tess ignored the hurt in her bones. He was in pain, feeling isolated and obviously wanted someone to vent at, and she was the closest target. She spotted his cell phone on the dresser and placed it on the bedside table, plugging it in to charge. “Try to get some rest.”
She was by the door when he spoke her name.
“What?” she asked, and turned.
He exhaled heavily. “I don’t want to sound ungrateful, but I’d prefer you to be honest about why you’re here.”
“You know why,” she said, her hand against her chest.
“Guilt,” he said without emotion. “Duty.”
He was right. But there was another reason, growing ever more inside her. She was just terrified to speak the words out loud.
Because I love you...
And she did. But she was afraid of that love, too, terrified they would end up back where started.
Or worse...where they ended.
* * *
Mitch tried watching television, doing admin work on the laptop, even playing solitaire. But he was bored out of his mind, and it was only day one of his forced incarceration. He hated self-pity and he hated weakness, two things he seemed to be feeling abundantly at the moment. And he hated that everyone seemed to think they knew what he needed. What he needed, and wanted, was to be left alone.
Which would be great, if he could get to the bathroom by himself. Thankfully, Jake stopped in and helped him into the wheelchair every few hours. It wasn’t easy, but he’d be damned if he’d admit he needed help. Mrs. Bailey dropped by after four to collect his tray, most of which was untouched. She tutted at his lack of appetite and said she’d return later with dinner. He managed a smile, and spent the next hour listening to the sounds of the ranch, which magnified his sense of helplessness. Sure, he was grateful to be alive, but the thought of being bedridden and out of action for weeks was unbearable.
And the idea of Tess sleeping down the hall was also out of the question.
She had to leave. Which was exactly what he planned on telling her when she showed up in the bedroom at eight o’clock, except he took one look at her and he couldn’t speak. She wore a soft blue dress with tiny white flower sprigs on it that was cut out over her shoulders and came to her knees, stretching over her rounded belly. Her feet were bare, her blond hair was loose, her face devoid of makeup, and he thought he’d never seen her look more beautiful in her life. Being pregnant only amplified her loveliness, and the attraction he had for her, the feelings that were in his heart—conflicted as they were—grew crazily in that moment. He was angry with her for being at the house out of duty and pity, and angry at himself for not being able to stay angry with her because other feelings always got in the way.
“Are you ready for bed?”
He stared at her. “What?”
She grabbed a pair of pajama bottoms from a pile of clothes on the chair in the corner and waved them at him. “You can’t sleep in sweats.”
He looked at the sweats he wore and grimaced at the cut-off leg, realizing that the pj’s in her hand had suffered the same fate. “Have you cut up all my pants?”
“Not all of them,” she said, and smiled fractionally. “Just a few pairs.”
He scowled. “Leave them on the bed.”
“Can you undress yourself?”
“I’ll be fine.”
“Prove it,” she said quickly. “Take your sweats off.”
Mitch held her gaze steadily, her expression challenging him. “You can leave.”
“Uh-uh,” she said, and sat on the edge of the bed. “Not until you take them off.”
“It’s been a while since you’ve been this eager to get my clothes off,” he said, one brow angled. “A month, at least.”
He watched as color flushed her neck. After all this time, he could still make her blush.
Calling her bluff, Mitch reached for the drawstring on his sweats. Except that as he moved, pain shot up his back and he grimaced. Tess was at his side in a microsecond, holding the pajamas.
“Let me help.”
“I got it,” he said, and inched the sweats down over his hips. Except he didn’t have it. His ribs hurt so much he could barely lift his shoulders. “Okay, maybe not.”
She had his sweats off in about a minute, which was excruciating, since she was close and her hands brushed down his thighs and her touch sent every nerve ending into overdrive. Well, nearly every one. It took every ounce of concentration to stop his body from reacting, busted bones and cracked ribs aside. Her neckline gaped a little, exposing the soft swell of her breasts as she leaned over him, and the look was incredibly sexy.
“Is this when I get my sponge bath?” he asked quietly.
She met his gaze. “Would it put you in a better mood?”
“I think you know exactly what kind of mood it would put me in.”
She bit her lower lip and looked at his cast. “Seriously?”
“Do you think I’d let a busted leg stop me?”
She waved the pajamas. “You’ve never lacked ambition.”
He laughed and his ribs ached, but he felt like it was the first time he’d really laughed all week. And damn, it sounded like she was flirting a little.
“Come on,” she said, and pulled the pj’s over his feet, taking care around the cast. “Do you need a bathroom break?”
“Now that’s where I draw the line,” he said as he lifted his hips so she could pull the garment up. Her hand brushed over him and he hardened instantly. And damned inconveniently. But he’d never been able to disguise his physical reaction to Tess.
She tugged on her lower lip, ignoring his reaction, finishing the task of pulling up the pants and tying the drawstring. “Now the shirt,” she said, and reached for the buttons.
Mitch grasped her hand, linking their fingers intimately. “How much of this do you think I can take?”
“Is that a rhetorical question?”
“It’s a you-and-me question,” he said. “I don’t want to blur the lines.”
“The lines between us have always been blurry.”
“I guess they have,” he agreed.
“I just know I don’t want to be at odds with you, Mitch. I don’t want to argue. And I don’t want our son to be in the middle.” She hesitated, swallowing the obvious emotion in her voice. “When you were in the hospital I was so scared our child would never know you and it made me realize that you were right.”
“I was?”
She nodded. “Our son needs us both, fifty-fifty.”
“Which means what?”
“That we don’t need a lawyer to draw up a custody arrangement,” she replied quietly, squeezing his fingers. “We can work out something that’s fair to us both, and what’s best for our son. Create a routine, you know, so that he doesn’t get confused or feel like he’s switching between us all the time. I know we can do it if we put his needs first. And that’s what I will commit to, Mitch, always putting him first.”
“Fifty-fifty,” he said, repeating her words. “You in your house, me in mine, and our son with two bedrooms, two sets of toys, two drawers filled with clothes, two lives... Is that how you see it, Tess? Because it looks pretty confusing from here.”
“It’s the only way.” She pulled her hand free.
“From your perspective.”
S
he crossed her arms. “I’m not coming back.”
“I know,” he said flatly. “But the thing is, you are back. For reasons of your own, I know,” he added. “You thought I was going to die, and it scared you because the last things we said to one another were filled with hurt and anger. However, you don’t get to be back, Tess. You don’t get to flirt and play nurse and strip off my clothes and bring me trays of food and do all the things a wife would do, because you’re not my wife. You stopped being my wife the day you bailed on our marriage.”
She took a breath. “I know you’re upset and—”
“And that’s another thing,” he said, cutting her off. “Stop pacifying me by suggesting you know how I feel. And stop behaving like you really give a damn, when we both know you’re only here out of guilt and obligation. I think I’ve made it clear I don’t need a nursemaid.”
Her eyes glittered brightly. “What about a friend?”
Mitch laughed bitterly. “Friends? Is that what we’ve come to.”
“It’s something.”
He shook his head and reached for her, grasping her hand, entwining their fingers in a way that was excruciatingly intimate. “It’s not enough. All or nothing, Tess. And you’ve made it clear you want to get married one day. Do you think I could stand by and be your friend while you married another man? And while someone else gets to be a father to my son when I’m not with him?”
“That’s hardly fair, Mitch,” she said tightly. “I’m trying to—”
“Clear your conscience,” he said, cutting her off again. “I get it. But you can save the guilt trip for someone else. I don’t want it. What I want is for you to understand boundaries. And being here in this room, undressing me, touching me, is breaking the rules. Rules you set, I should add, when you made it clear that I had stolen your dreams and your hope four years ago.”
As the words left his mouth, Mitch could see the hurt on her face. But he was right to say them. Right to feel them. Right to make it clear that he wanted her to respect the boundaries she’d set. He released her hand, felt the divide between them growing with each passing second.
Instead of capitulating, she glared at him, chest heaving, hands on hips, and then strode from the room and slammed the door. He heard another door slam loudly a few seconds later.
When Jake tapped on the door and came into the room about ten minutes later, Mitch’s mood wasn’t much improved.
“So, I guess all those banging doors means you and Tess had a fight?” His brother asked as he pulled the curtains shut and sat in the chair by the tallboy.
“Not that it made any difference,” he said, frowning. “She won’t leave.”
Jake grinned. “It’s kinda sweet.”
“It’s nothing of the sort.”
“She’s always had spirit.”
Mitch couldn’t disagree. “She drives me crazy.”
“That’s because you’re still in love with her,” Jake said, still grinning. “And loves makes a man crazy.”
Mitch ignored the accusation. “Even you?”
His brother shrugged. “No comment.”
“Abby still lives in town, you know,” Mitch remarked and grinned back. Abby Perkins was his brother’s high school girlfriend. Who had then turned around and married his best friend when Jake had joined the military. Tom Perkins had died over six years ago, but Abby had remained in town to raise her young son. “She works as head chef at the O’Sullivan hotel. In case you were—”
“I wasn’t,” Jake said quickly. “Abby and I are ancient history.”
“History can repeat itself,” Mitch said with irony. “Take it from me.”
His brother chuckled. “Which brings me back to the point—you planning on making things right with Tess?”
“Not my decision.”
“Have you told her you’re still in love with her?” Jake suggested, still grinning. “That might help break the ice.”
“Yes,” Mitch replied uneasily. “It didn’t make any difference.”
Jake crossed his arms, sitting back in the chair. “You sure about that? I mean, she’s here, isn’t she?”
“Guilt,” he supplied. “We had an argument the day before the accident. She feels bad about it.”
“And how do you feel about it?” Jake asked.
“Tired,” he replied. “All we do is hurt one another.”
“Not all,” Jake reminded him. “You made a baby together.”
“You’d think that would be enough, but it’s not. You’re right,” Mitch said irritably. “I love her. I love her so much I can’t think straight.”
“But?”
“But I’m so damned mad with her for not...for not...”
“Loving you back?” Jake suggested.
“Staying,” Mitch amended, and sighed heavily. “She gave up when things got hard.”
“Maybe she believed she didn’t have any other choice?”
“There’s always a choice,” he said. “You don’t give up on marriage because things become complicated. She wanted me to fall apart when she miscarried that last time, and when I didn’t, she punished me by leaving. Now she wants to be friends so we can raise our son in separate houses, and she’ll probably marry someone else who I’ll end up hating.”
Jake sighed and offered a rueful smile. “Maybe you should fall apart.”
“I can’t,” he admitted. “I couldn’t back then, I can’t now. It’s not in my DNA.”
“Then tell her that,” Jake suggested. “At least she’ll know how you feel. Better she knows your weakness, rather than thinking you don’t feel anything. Maybe she didn’t know how to stay and fight for your relationship back then. Maybe leaving was all she left.”
Mitch suspected his brother wasn’t only talking about Tess. Jake had his own demons and reasons for leaving Cedar River, most of them to do with Billie-Jack and Abby Perkins.
“I know I should be generous and think that, but I can’t,” he said, and tapped his chest. “Because despite everything, I know one thing for sure.”
“And what’s that?” Jake asked.
Mitch took a breath, bracing himself, knowing the words would hurt.
“I would never have left her.”
Chapter Eleven
When Tess woke up the following morning it was past eight o’clock. She’d had a restless night, most of it spent staring at the ceiling, magnified by the fact the baby was moving a lot and she couldn’t get comfortable in the bed.
She showered and dressed and walked directly past the master bedroom.
The door was closed, anyhow, and she certainly had no intention of entering Mitch’s inner sanctum without an invitation. He’d made his thoughts about her presence at the ranch loud and clear. She was intruding, changing the terms of their relationship, making things difficult.
She went into the kitchen to have breakfast and saw the remnants of a tray on the draining board. Mrs. Bailey had obviously been upstairs and had Mitch organized already. Ellie bounded into the kitchen around nine, her usual cheerful self, and showed her a sample of the electronic invitations for the baby shower. Tess was drinking tea and eating toast about ten minutes later when Jake walked in through the mud room.
“Morning,” he said as he moved around the countertop and poured coffee. “Sleep well?”
“Not particularly,” she replied, and sipped her tea.
“Any plans for the day?”
“To pack my bag and leave,” she replied.
“You know,” he said, and looked over the rim of his mug, “there’s no need to be hasty.”
She raised a brow. “Hasty? You think I should stay?”
“I think it’s not my place to tell you or my brother what to do. But,” he added, “I’m not sure leaving again would help the situation.”
Again? Tess didn’t miss
the innuendo. “He doesn’t want me here.”
“I’m not sure he knows what he wants.” Jake grinned a little. “You know, could be all the pain meds impairing his judgment. Might be worth giving him the benefit of the doubt. Just saying,” he added, and shrugged.
“What do you suggest I do?”
“Nothing,” Jake replied. “Just act normal.”
“Normal?” she queried, confused. “How do I do that? I’m not even sure what that means for us.”
He shrugged again. “I’m not exactly the expert on relationships.”
“And yet you’re full of advice.”
“Take it or leave it,” he said annoyingly.
“I’m not sure I get your point, Jake.”
“I’m pretty sure you do,” he said. “You want to make things right, Mitch is being stubborn about it. I guess you still care about him, right?”
She wasn’t about to admit to anything. “Does it matter?”
“It might to my brother. It’s obvious you’re here because you still care about him.”
“Well, of course I still care,” she said, coloring hotly. “We were married and I’m expecting his child. It’s a bond we’ll always—”
“You’re still in love with him, correct?”
“Well, I—”
“And you won’t tell him because that will mean you forgive him for the way he behaved four years ago. Does that about cover it?”
Jake’s insight was mortifying. “I can’t—”
“Of course you can’t,” he said, cutting her off as he drained his mug and placed it in the sink. “I get it, you know. I know how it feels to hang onto resentment. But you should stick around, Tess.”
“Why?” she asked.
He grinned and headed for the door. “Because, like you said, you were married once and now you’re having a baby. I know he might act like he wants you to go, but I think we both know that’s not the case.”
Once he disappeared through the back door, Tess let out a long sigh. Act normal. Do nothing. It sounded easy. Not as easy as leaving. But there really wasn’t any point to that since she still had to maintain a civil relationship with Mitch because of their baby. Loving him wasn’t the point. Raising their child together was all that mattered. She could love him and not be with him. Plenty of divorced couples still had feelings for one another. She’d seen the evidence firsthand at parent-teacher discussions over the years. Sometimes divorce was about chronic incompatibility and nothing to do with the depth of feeling. She could be a statistic if it meant her child had two parents who respected one another.
