Marry Me Again (The Second Chance Love Series, Book 1) (13 page)

She just wished that of all the things in the world her child could want, he could have picked something other than his father.

And she wished she knew what to say to make Sammy feel better on this difficult day. It wasn't just a silly soccer game to him. Sammy took the game very seriously. He took everything seriously. And to him, this was one more test he'd failed.

* * *

Later that day, Tucker sat at his son's bedside, stroking Sammy's hair and wondering whether he was supposed to acknowledge the sniffling sounds Sammy was making.

He figured six-year-old boys might not appreciate having their father finding them sobbing in their beds. So he sat there by Sammy's side, stroking his hair and making slow circles on his back while he waited for Sammy to calm down.

And he wondered how many other times his son had needed a father and had none to turn to.

Tucker knew the feeling well. His parents had divorced when he was seven, and he'd been caught in the middle. The yelling, the screaming, the tears—he'd heard them all.

And he hadn't just lost his father. He might as well have lost his mother, too. The bitter custody fight they'd waged hadn't ended, not with the judge's decision that Tucker should live with his mother, not ever.

They were still battling it out today. Tucker was their favorite weapon. They didn't see each other anymore, but they both saw Tucker. They both talked to Tucker, and they were both still trying to convince him that the other parent was in the wrong.

Tucker had given up trying to convince them that no one would ever win the kind of battle they were fighting.

It seemed as if they got great joy out of inflicting pain on each other, and either they didn't notice or they didn't care that it was tearing Tucker apart.

He'd sometimes wished his parents had divorced him as well as each other.

As he'd grown older, he'd vowed that he would never marry and he would never have children, because divorce had become as common as happily-ever-afters. He couldn't risk putting himself through another divorce, and he wouldn't risk putting his own child through the pain he'd experienced.

Somehow Rebecca had made him forget all his vows. It wasn't so much that he suddenly believed they could make it work. It was more that he wanted so desperately to believe it. She'd blinded him to his past and to his fears.

And when everything he'd feared had come true, when he was sure it would never work, sure that he could never make her happy, he'd made one other vow that he had managed to keep—that their break would be clean and complete. No custody battle, no visitation rights to negotiate, no fights over child support.

He'd also believed that Rebecca and Sammy wouldn't be alone for long. Brian had been waiting. Brian still loved her, and he would have loved Sammy, as well.

So what had gone wrong? And what was he going to do about it?

Sammy finally quieted, and Tucker bent over to pick up the soccer ball he'd bought for Sammy.

"Hey, sport, I brought you a little something."

Sammy rubbed at his eyes with the back of his hands, then finally turned over.

He looked so sad that for a minute, Tucker thought he was going to cry as well. Somehow, he managed to smile a little instead.

"Here." He gave Sammy the ball. "I thought you and I might work on your soccer game a little next time I come to visit. Okay?"

Sammy took the ball and refused to look at his father. "Well, 'kay."

"So, when's the next game?"

Sammy sniffled again. "Sunday."

"Well, I guess we'll have to practice on Saturday."

Sammy finally looked at him, just for a minute. "You're gonna come back?"

"If you want me to."

"Even though I messed up at the game?"

"Oh, Sammy."

Tucker couldn't stand it anymore. He hauled Sammy up into his lap and held him as close as he could. Sammy snuggled into his arms and rested his cheek against Tucker's chest. Two little arms stretched as far as they could around Tucker's chest.

"I mess up a lot," Sammy said.

Tucker gave him a squeeze. "So do I."

"Really?" Sammy pulled back enough to look at his father. "You do?"

"I do."

Sammy considered that for a moment, then looked very serious again. "I'd like it if you came back."

Tucker smiled from ear to ear. It was the best news he'd had in years. Sammy wanted him to come back.

He was going to have to explain everything to the boy, sooner or later, and he wasn't sure if Sammy would ever understand. Hell, Tucker wasn't sure he understood himself. But he wasn't going to worry about that at the moment. His son wanted him to come back.

"I'd like that, too, Sammy."

They sat on the bed together and grinned at each other for a minute. Then he ruffled Sammy's hair, just because he wasn't quite ready to let go of him.

"Know somethin'?"

"What, Sammy?"

"I missed you... when you were gone... when I was little."

Tucker hauled his son back into his arms and held on for dear life. His eyes filled with tears and his throat was so tight he could hardly breathe.

It was a long time before he could let go, a long time before he trusted himself to speak. "I missed you, too, Sammy."

They smiled at each other. The whole world seemed brighter in an instant.

"Look, I've got to go," Tucker said reluctantly. "Your mom says it's way past your bedtime, and I've got to get to work tomorrow."

He helped Sammy get back under the covers, put the ball down on the bed beside him, then fished in his wallet for a business card and something to write with.

"Let me give you this. It's my phone number, home and work, and if you need anything or if you just want to talk to me, you give me a call. Okay?"

Sammy grinned again. "'Kay."

"I'll see you next weekend."

"'Kay."

Tucker kissed the top of his head and turned out the light.

* * *

Tucker wanted to drive back to the Gulf to stare at the water some more. It had calmed him, at least a little, early Saturday morning, and he needed calming right now.

He had a son who was brokenhearted and terrified over a soccer game. A damned soccer game!

And he had an ex-wife who was so angry at him—and rightly so—yet so beautiful, so touchable, so vulnerable, living in Tallahassee with no wedding ring, while Brian had moved to Naples.

He'd dialed Margaret Harwell's number at least a dozen times today and gotten nothing but voice mail. He clicked on her name to try the number one more time, wondering what could have happened to Rebecca and Brian the wonder boy.

She'd loved him forever, loved him before she met Tucker and after she'd decided to divorce him. And if it was possible to love two men at once, Rebecca had loved Brian even while she was married to Tucker.

Tucker didn't doubt her love for him, just as he didn't doubt her love for Brian. He hadn't liked it, but he'd been able to deal with it, at least while Brian had been in Belize and Rebecca had been in Tucker's bed.

The wonder boy had returned at the worst possible time, just when the undeniable cracks in the foundation of their marriage had begun to show.

Brian had arrived just in time to help Rebecca pick up the pieces of her life. She'd been unfaithful to Tucker—though only in her heart. But Tucker was the one she was supposed to give her heart to. She was supposed to believe in him, understand him, be there beside him.

Tucker had hated Brian Sandelle, most of all because Rebecca couldn't forget him. And in the end, when their marriage was ending, she'd turned to Brian.

The phone on the other end rang. Four rings. Tucker counted them, then waited for what always came next. Voice mail. Again.

To hell with the phone. He was going over there, and he wasn't leaving until he found out what he wanted to know.

Chapter 8

"She never married him?" Tucker echoed.

He sat down hard on the plush sofa in Margaret Harwell's living room. He couldn't comprehend what she'd told him. Simply couldn't comprehend it.

It was like a bad dream, except he was living it, and he couldn't make it stop. He just wanted to go back to the point where he didn't know anything, so life could be the same again.

It wasn't that he liked things the way they were before, just that anything was preferable to this. He couldn't handle this.

Dammit.
He clenched his fist and ground his teeth together.
Dammit!

He was going to kill Brian Sandelle. Mister man-of-his-word, the honorable, the trustworthy, the sweet, the gentle, the faithful puppy dog, Brian.

God, he was sick of that man.

"Tucker?"

He turned back to look at Rebecca's mother and realized he hadn't heard a word she'd said. He'd been off somewhere, caught up in fury.

Tucker couldn't bear to think about it. All those years he'd stayed away, just as he'd promised he would, thinking that his wife and his child were fine, living with this ever-so-virtuous man who'd sworn to love Rebecca and to treat Sammy as if he were Brian's own son.

"She never married him?" Still incredulous, Tucker asked again and tried to pay attention to the answer.

"I tried to tell you, dear, but you didn't want to know. You wouldn't let me talk about them." Margaret came and sat next to him on the sofa, then put a comforting hand on his knee.

"Why?" It was all he could manage.

"Well," Margaret said, "it wasn't for lack of trying on Brian's part. They've been dating, been engaged forever, but Rebecca found one reason after another to put him off when it came to marriage."

"Why?" Tucker sat there and shook his head, feeling sicker and sicker inside.

"I'm not sure I understand myself, dear. I have my theories, of course, but—"

"She loved him." His anguish-filled voice boomed through the room. "She always loved him."

"Yes." Margaret squeezed his hand and tried to calm him. "I think she has always loved him, but there are different kinds of love. Not all of them lead to marriage."

Tucker sat there dumbfounded. All those years—they'd been as alone as he'd been, all those years.

"Sammy..." Tucker had to fight to clear his throat. He was choking on emotion. "Sammy said Brian moved to Naples."

"Yes, a few months ago."

"Are Rebecca and Sammy going to join him there?"

"They haven't gone yet." Margaret actually smiled then. "You know, Tucker, I never believed you simply stopped caring for them."

He hadn't. He'd tried, damned hard, but he'd never managed to stop caring for them. He'd also believed that they'd be better off without him, better off with Brian.

And now he found out that they'd simply been alone.

It was a damned good thing Brian was a few hundred miles away right then, because if he hadn't been, Tucker would have strangled him.

"Would you like a drink, dear?"

Yes, he would.
Two would be even better.

"I gave it up, Margaret."

"Drinking?"

"Yes."

"But that wasn't all you gave up, was it?"

His only response was a tightening of his jaw. Margaret Harwell had always seen too much.

"Why did you do it, Tucker? Why did you give up on them?"

He said nothing. He couldn't. He had nothing to say.

"You know," Margaret continued when he didn't respond, "I always wondered what you and Brian talked about that day."

Tucker could play poker with the best of them, but he wouldn't bet money that he could bluff his way out of anything when he was sitting across a card table from Margaret.

She smiled, barely, when she saw that she wasn't going to get a reaction out of him. "You forgot. I was in the office that summer helping out for a few weeks while our receptionist's granddaughter was so sick."