Finding Glory

by Sara Arden

She didn’t realize that’s what she meant to him. “You didn’t have to suffer if all you wanted was for me to touch you.”

  “Yes, I did. I’d have wrecked you then. Ruined you.”

  “Don’t you know that’s what you’re doing now?” she whispered. “What you’ve been doing since you came back?”

  He stiffened again.

  “I love you, Reed. I love you so much it terrifies me.” She hadn’t meant to say it, hadn’t meant to put that on him because if he didn’t feel the same, it was a burden.

  “Because of nights like tonight. That’s why you’re afraid.” He made no mention of his feelings for her, if he ever had any. But that was okay. She knew he felt something for her; he had to.

  “Yes. And because you said that it’ll all be better tomorrow. That you’ll fix it. I know you can’t do that, but I still believe you will.” She leaned her forehead against him.

  “I will this time.”

  “Do you remember when my mom died?” This probably wasn’t the best time to bring this up, but it was there on the tip of her tongue, begging to be breathed out into the world.

  “Of course. I’ll never forget that night.”

  “You held me all night on the couch. You stayed with me and took care of me, too.”

  He didn’t speak.

  “I think that’s why I always look to you when I’m hurt and upset. When you weren’t here, I had to handle things on my own and I could. I did. But with you here, it’s like that night all over again. I think I forget that you need that from me, too.” She sighed. “But you can’t run away from me every time we have a disagreement. What’s it going to be next time?” She was afraid that everything was going to crash and burn.

  “I told you, tomorrow.”

  “What’s so magical about tomorrow? It never was for my mother. For Crystal. For me. Why does it get to be special for you?”

  “Gina, I’m done talking about this now.”

  She inhaled. “I guess I need something to be fixed now. I feel like I can’t be comfortable in my own skin until it is. Until I have some stability. You know, like I was saying about my mom. You’re that for me, so please...”

  He rolled over and looked at her.

  The expression on his face told her that maybe she’d misread everything. He hadn’t said he’d loved her back. He hadn’t made any confession of his own. He just wanted her to stop, to be quiet and leave him alone.

  Then he softened, pulled her close. “You’re okay, Gina. Everything is okay.”

  She nestled against him and everything was right again. Everything would be okay. All of the comparisons she’d made to Crys faded away in the wake of his closeness and the security she felt.

  “This was why,” she said, hoping he’d understand. This was physical proof of why she’d tried to push him away. She needed him and she couldn’t afford to need him.

  “I know. Didn’t make it cut any less or make it any more okay.”

  “I’ve been talking about making this better for me, like all I had to do was say I was sorry and it was all fixed. How do I make it better for you?”

  “Put your hands on me again. Stay with me tonight.”

  Gina reached out and caressed his cheek, smoothed her thumb over the blade of his cheekbone, smoothed his hair.

  When she was younger, she dreamed of moments like this. She’d gotten exactly what she wanted, only it was like the story of the monkey’s paw—a couple wishing for a million dollars only to have someone they loved die to get it. She should’ve specified the circumstances in which this was her version of happily-ever-after.

  But maybe this was okay. Maybe they’d work through it and be a family. After all, all they had left in the world was each other and Amanda Jane.

  “I’ll always stay with you.”

  “You told me not to make promises I can’t keep. I’m going to say the same to you. Don’t promise to stay when you can’t. When you shouldn’t.”

  She had the feeling he was going to do something they’d both regret. He was as much as warning her he was going to fail her. Fail Amanda Jane. “Let’s not talk about that. Let’s talk of good things. I don’t want to sleep with any sour words on our tongues or sour thoughts in our heads.”

  “How about something sweet, then?” He kissed her gently, tenderly. A wealth of emotion was in that kiss.

  At least, that was the way it felt to Gina.

  She surrendered to it easily, gratefully.

  His arms always felt so good. So right. As if this was where she belonged and nothing could hurt.

  He pulled back, looking at her, searching her face for some answer to his questions, some sign. She knew then what it was. He loved her.

  “You don’t have to say it.”

  “You won’t believe me tomorrow, so I do have to tell you. I love you, Gina. I’ve always loved you. But I’ve always known that you’re out of my league.”

  She wondered why he thought she wouldn’t believe him tomorrow, but Gina pushed it out of her head. She wanted to think about now, wanted to think about his hands on her, his lips, and that he loved her.

  Gina had never had a love all her own, and it was scary and beautiful at the same time.

  She had emotional whiplash and everything was all jumbled up together inside her guts.

  “That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

  He drew the pad of his thumb across her cheek. “You wanted to be a doctor.”

  “I do. And I have both. I can’t help but think girls like me don’t get happily-ever-after. I mean,” she confessed.

  “Because if you were thinking straight, you’d only want to be a doctor.”

  “How can you say that?” She turned her cheek into the caress, loving the way his hands felt on her.

  “This isn’t the life you want.”

  “Yes, it is,” she cried.

  “You said so yourself. You said you can’t do this again. You said that you could see our life together, but that there would always be this doubt. It would suck the joy and love right out of you, sweetheart.”

  “Isn’t it my choice to make?”

  “It’s our choice to make.”

  “You don’t want to be with me?” She hated how small and weak she sounded. Gina wanted to be a lion, she wanted to roar, she wanted to demand that he be brave with her.

  “My heart has been yours for all of my life, Gina.”

  “You didn’t answer the question.”

  “And I’m not going to. Not until tomorrow.”

  She sighed. “Again, I ask, what’s this magical tomorrow?” Her voice was a lot gentler than the last time she asked. There was no anger behind her words, just a curious sort of bittersweet pain.

  Gina wasn’t stupid. She knew he was going to plan some grand gesture that would suck for both of them, but it would make him think he was doing the right thing. She wanted to talk him out of it, tell him that whatever he was planning, no. Just no. They’d figure this out together.

  She spoke again. “I’ve decided that I don’t like tomorrow. I’m not going to do it.”

  “You’re not going to do tomorrow?” He pulled her closer. “How would you avoid it? Tomorrow is the best thing that can happen to any of us.”

  Crystal wouldn’t have tomorrow even if she wanted it. So that wasn’t something she meant. “I don’t know what I’m saying.” She shook her head. “I just don’t want you to throw this away between us because you think you’re saving me. I don’t need you to save me.”

  “Then what do you need from me, besides my money?”

  “Don’t be stupid.”

  “That didn’t answer the question.”

  “What if I say that I won’t answer the question until tomorrow?” She thought she’d already answered the q
uestion, but if he still didn’t know what she wanted from him, hearing her say it wasn’t going to clear it up any. To Gina’s way of thinking, she’d already said it a million times, in a million ways.

  “I’d say that’s okay.”

  No, damn it. It wasn’t okay. “Words are just hot air, Reed. It’s actions that matter. That’s what counts.”

  “Words matter, too. Words are the sharpest of swords and cause wounds that never heal. Bones will mend, sometimes hearts do not.”

  Something in her twisted. “That’s actually rather pretty.”

  “Yeah, here I am, the poet.” He brushed off her compliment.

  “Yeah, there you are.” She brushed her lips against his. “Don’t hide from me. I know that you’ve got a gentle heart, Reed. You always did.”

  He snorted, but didn’t turn away. “What good has a gentle heart ever done me? Or anyone else?”

  “It made me love you.”

  “That’s probably not a good thing.”

  “Why do you keep saying that? Like you think that you’re not worthy of love? But that’s what you wanted, isn’t it? To be seen as the person you are? I do, Reed.”

  “That’s the shit of it, isn’t it?” His eyes were hooded and dark. “I think that you do and I can’t have you or this because I see you, too. I see who you are. I see who you can be.”

  “I like who I am right now.”

  He closed his eyes for a minute and took her hand. “Maybe this is that moment of drunk clarity, you know? Where everything blurs, but then comes into sharp focus that’s so HD that it’s surreal.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You don’t think that being with me would change you? Or do you think that you’re going to change me?”

  “We’ll change each other.”

  “But not for the better. I keep hearing what you said to me. Those words about what our future will be like and you’re right. You will always wonder.”

  “Reed...”

  “Yeah, you would. And you’d be right to. Then you’d feel guilty for not trusting me, but that wouldn’t stop you from always wondering. You know how much that wears on a person, on your heart, on your soul. On the love that you have for them.”

  “Fear isn’t noble.”

  “There is a difference between fear and knowing. Between preservation and annihilation.”

  “That’s a little overdramatic, don’t you think?” She continued stroking his cheek softly, trailing her fingers through his hair.

  “No, I don’t. Loving me will break you. For a minute, I thought it would be okay. I thought if you’d just love me...and now you do and I know that I can’t have it. Not if I give a damn about you.”

  “I thought this was our decision to make together, but it sounds like you’ve already decided.”

  “Gina.” He sighed her name.

  “Reed,” she returned.

  “It’s too much for me, okay?”

  She reared back. “Too much for you? No, that’s not okay. What are you talking about?”

  “I’m talking about all the pressure to be good for you. To be perfect. To be what I know you need. I can’t. I just can’t.”

  “I’m not asking you to be anything more for me than what you need to be for Amanda Jane. Are you leaving her, too?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Fear mingled with rage, but simmered with pain. “You’re drunk.”

  “No. I’m being realistic. We fought today. And what did I do?”

  Her lip quivered, but she refused to give in to tears. She didn’t speak, she didn’t know what to say. Even if she’d had the words, she was too angry to speak them.

  “I fell. I crashed. I ran away. I failed.” He tried to push a lock of her hair away from her face, but she pulled away.

  “So what? We all fail. I failed Crystal. Now I’m failing Amanda Jane. We both are if you walk away. You don’t want to be with me? I won’t say it’s fine, or that I don’t care. But I’ll get over it.” Her heart protested that for a lie. “But if you leave Amanda Jane, she won’t get over it. She’s wanted a father for so long and you let her trust you, you let her believe in you. Don’t you dare do this.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  SHINING THE LIGHT of truth on himself was ugly and hard for Reed. He’d convinced himself that he could be a father, a partner—maybe even a husband.

  But after what had happened today, he knew that wasn’t true. If he loved Amanda Jane and Gina, the best thing he could do for them would be make room in their lives for someone who could be all of the things he wasn’t.

  He’d finally gotten someone to love him for who he was and because he loved them back, he knew he couldn’t let them settle for a man like him. Reed wished he knew how to explain to Gina that it wasn’t fear. It was the knowledge he had of himself—a home truth as her mama used to say.

  If someone like him, no matter how much money he had, wanted a place in his daughter’s life, Reed would do anything he could to excise him like a cancer. And that had to include himself. This was the best way he knew how to be a good father—to let another man do it. A man who would love Gina, love Amanda Jane and not only love them, but be worthy of their love in return.

  “I wish I could make you understand.” He needed to tell her to go, but he couldn’t make himself. Reed wanted to look at her as long as he could. “I’m going to move back to the city. I’ll have the deed to the house transferred to your name.”

  “I don’t want the house.” Her lips were set into a thin line.

  “Yes, you do. You want a safe environment for Amanda Jane.” He should’ve known that she wouldn’t understand. That she’d made this difficult.

  “This is our house, Reed. Don’t you think she’s going to feel your absence? I can’t—” She shook her head.

  “Then I’ll buy you another house.”

  “We don’t want your damn money,” she snarled.

  “No, but that’s all I can give you that’s worth a shit.” The confession was torn from him.

  “You know—” she scooted off the bed “—maybe you’re right. If you’d leave me, us, right after her mother died, you’re not the man I thought you were.”

  “If I don’t do it now, I never will. And then you’ll have that future that you didn’t want.” The future where she’d talked about spending her life with him. Children. Grandchildren. And never trusting him, always wondering if and when he was going to slip and fall.

  Fail.

  “Who says I don’t want it? Nothing’s perfect.”

  “You did. You said you didn’t want it,” he reminded her quietly. Reed pulled out the big guns. “What if Amanda Jane had seen me tonight?”

  “So what if she did? Then she’ll know you’re not perfect. It’s a lesson we all have to learn about our parents.”

  “I’m not good for you. Or for her. Don’t make this harder on us than it has to be.” Why wouldn’t she let him do the right thing?

  He watched as her face changed. “So much for tomorrow being magical.”

  Reed wanted to pull her close, comfort her, but he knew he was the reason for her pain. It tore him up inside, but better to hurt her now, like ripping off a Band-Aid, than to drag out and let it fester and rot like he knew it would. When the stardust in her eyes settled, she’d be wondering where her life went and how she ever could’ve wasted it on him.

  He couldn’t say anything else. He’d tried to clean up his mess as best he could, but the way she stood there so small, so breakable, it was as if every second was another slash of the blade against her skin. He didn’t know how to fix it—and maybe he couldn’t. Maybe time would be the best balm.

  Though, he didn’t see that time would ever mend his wounds. He’d love Gina Townsend for all the days of
his life. And Amanda Jane—he ached at the thought of leaving her. His chest swelled with pride when he thought about her, how smart she was, how kind, how lovely. She was an amazing gift and he wouldn’t spoil her.

  Gina was a rare flower indeed to have been able to bloom among the waste she’d been born into. None of that would touch his daughter. He didn’t care what he had to sacrifice to make sure of that.

  “You’re the one making it harder, Reed. You promised her, you bastard. You told her that you’d never leave her. How many times did you make that promise? If you didn’t mean it, you shouldn’t have said it. Don’t you betray her.”

  The door creaked open slowly and Amanda Jane stood in the darkness, her blue eyes puffy and swollen, her small, ragged bear dangling from one hand. “Daddy’s leaving?”

  The expression on her little face punched up through his chest and into his heart. “Maybe for a little while.”

  She’d miss him at first, and then he’d just become something that happened to her. She’d move on. She’d forget—

  Amanda Jane ran to him and crawled up on the bed. “You promised.”

  If she’d cried, it might have been easier. He could’ve chalked up tears to childhood hysterics, but instead, she just clung to him. Clung so tightly, that she thought she’d anchor him there with her. It was so adult, but at the same time, so very honest.

  “Take me with you.” Her voice was quiet, but much more adult that it ever should’ve had to be.

  And the hand that had punched through his heart now squeezed it so tightly he couldn’t breathe.

  “I’ll be good. I’ll be quiet. I won’t make a mess.” As if being a good girl would right everything that was wrong. As if she could make everything right. She was so much like Gina.

  “I know,” he said, and rested his chin on the top of her head. “You’re a very good girl.”

  Gina shot him a disgusted look and he knew he deserved it. God, this wasn’t supposed to be so hard. He thought he was doing the right thing.

  “If I was a good girl, Mama wouldn’t have died. I’ll be better. Then you won’t be sick. You won’t die. Grammie won’t die.”

  If the look of derision on Gina’s face was any more intense, he would’ve burst into flames. He kept waiting for her to speak, to reassure Amanda Jane, but she sat in stone silence, waiting for him to fix it.