This Time (16 page)

Michael nodded jerkily and watched her leave. Once the door closed behind her, she heard a muffled thud that sounded like flesh hitting a pillow followed by, “Goddamn it!”

Tara leaned against the wall just outside his door. What the hell had she been thinking? She hadn’t come here to sleep with him! She’d come to…well, the reasons were fuzzy right now. She put her hands over her face and slid slowly down the wall. She was setting herself up for a world of pain. A choked sob escaped her throat, and hot tears pressed against her eyelids again. She gulped hard and dug the heels of her hands against her eyes. She would not cry! Not for him, not again. She’d used up all the tears she was willing to cry for him ages ago.

“Tara.” Michael’s voice came from beside her.

Tara shook her head and looked up at his foot from the corner of her eye. He’d used crutches to follow her and was now standing in the doorway. She pursed her lips to keep the sob welling in her chest from escaping and blinked hard to dispel the tears. She could take anything from Michael except kindness and understanding. She wanted him to shrug and not mention it again because then she’d be able to hate him. But he was trying to fix it, and she couldn’t handle that.
Damn him
for finally turning into what she needed years after it was too late.

She felt a betraying tear slip out and turned her head away, hoping Michael hadn’t noticed. But when he cursed softly, she knew that he had seen, and now he was going to want to talk about it.
Talk, talk, talk. Bleh.

“Tara, please, don’t do that,” Michael begged in a choked voice. “Please don’t cry.” He reached one hand out and gently stroked the top of her head. “Come back inside, let me make this right.”

Tara stood up and stared at her feet lest he see how hard she was fighting the tears. “I have to go get Maddie.”

Michael slid his fingers around her upper arm and said, “She can play for just a few minutes.” He dipped his head to see her face. Tara took a deep, shuddering breath and tried to rearrange her face into nonchalance.

When she finally looked up to meet his eyes, his stricken expression told her she’d failed to keep her emotions from showing. “We need to fix this before Maddie comes back. She’ll know something’s wrong, you know she will.”

He was right, damn him. Children were perceptive, and Maddie was especially in tune with Tara’s moods because it had always been just the two of them. Ignoring the speculative looks from the nurses down the hall, Tara brushed past him into the room and stood waiting with her arms crossed protectively over her chest. Michael shuffled slowly into the room and let the door swing shut. Tara finally looked at him and followed his gaze to the bed. He guiltily looked to his feet, to the ceiling—anywhere but the bed. Finally, his gaze landed on the chairs around the table, and he began the shuffle-hop steps with his crutches to sit down. Michael glanced up at her as he sat and leaned his crutches against the table. Tara’s eyes skidded nervously from side–to-side before she moved to take the chair farthest from him. Sitting down, she placed her hands in her lap and waited. She had no intention of being the one to begin this little tête-à-tête.

“I never meant for it to go that far. You have to believe that. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want it to, but I didn’t want to push you before you were ready.” Michael reached across the table, his palm up, waiting. His voice lowered to an agonized whisper, “Tara, I don’t want to hurt you again.”

Tara looked at his hand as if it were a spider and remained silent. She knew if she started talking, the dam would break and she’d cry.

Michael pulled his hand away and scrubbed it down his face with an impatient grunt. He scratched the stubble on his chin absently and sighed. “Tara, say something. Tell me what you’re thinking.”

She jerked a hand across her face to brush away the mortifying tears that escaped and shakily responded, “I’m thinking I should have stayed home.”

Michael looked down, his brow furrowing as he studied the tabletop. “I deserved that.” He cleared his throat several times before asking, “Do you know what it means to me that you came?”

Tara yanked her head up to look at him, thinking he was referring to their lovemaking. An angry retort hovered on the tip of her tongue, but she bit it back. Michael blinked rapidly and gave her a questioning look. His eyes widened, and he shook his head rapidly.

“I mean here, that you came here to see me.” He rubbed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose.

Tara glanced away, ashamed of the direction her thoughts had immediately taken. “I know,” she said softly. “But Michael, you need to accept that even if I decide I want to have a relationship with you, I want to move slowly. Slower than we did before, slower than most people. I don’t trust you not to just walk away again, without a backward glance. It’s not just me anymore. Maddie and I…” she broke off, swallowing against the lump in her throat, trying to keep from crying. “We’re a team. I can’t just add someone else to our team, especially when I don’t know how long it’s for.”

Michael stared at her intently for long moments before awkwardly sliding his chair around the table toward hers. Tara glanced around quickly, looking for an avenue of escape before she realized she’d positioned herself in a corner with only one escape route, and he was now blocking it. Michael reached for her arms and roughly pulled her out of her chair and into his lap. She struggled against him, angry but irritatingly impressed by how easily he kept her from escaping. Once she was positioned to his satisfaction, her knees crooked over one arm of the chair with her feet dangling, Michael pulled her head down to his shoulder and wrapped his arms completely around her.

“Cry,” he commanded, his voice rough and sharp.

Tara tried to sit up, to get away from him. She didn’t want this!

“No, damn you, cry.” His hand held her head against his shoulder. “I hurt you then, and I hurt you now. Cry on the right shoulder this time.”

That did it. Michael’s admission of his own folly and the almost hostile attempt to provide Tara with what he’d denied her broke her down where his compassion had failed. She clutched his shirt and buried her face in the crook of his neck and sobbed. She cried for the past, for the single woman who gave birth with only her best friend and mother present; she cried for the mother that struggled to make ends meet and provide the best for her child alone; she cried for the years Madelynn had spent fatherless; but mostly, she cried for the lonely woman. It was selfish, she knew, but Tara wanted a man to love her, and only her. She wanted someone’s world to revolve around her. She cried because she’d gotten a taste of it nearly six years ago, and two hours ago she’d been given another taste, and now she
craved
it. She felt like a perpetual dieter standing in the middle of a Krispy Kreme. Only instead of lounging around eating pastries, she was sobbing and crying and snotting all over her own personal donut. And he was stroking her hair and murmuring soothingly to her.

Tara only caught about one word in five, but the most common ones she caught were never, baby, love, and sorry. It felt somehow wrong and right at the same time to sob against the shoulder of the man who’d made her cry. After what felt like hours but was probably only minutes, the tears began to fade, and she struggled to gain control.

*

Tara cried against him so hard, Mike was afraid she was going to pass out. Every sob, every tear, tore a hole in his heart and piled heavily on top of the guilt he carried with him. He’d done this to her with his own cowardice, and it was killing him. Disgusted with himself, he thought grimly that he’d deserved to lose both legs for what he’d done. Death was too good for him. Mike closed his eyes and rested his cheek on top of her head.

He whispered to her, words he should have been saying for years, fervent declarations Mike wasn’t sure she even heard. They tore from his throat in agonized whispers as she sobbed against him.

“Baby, I’m so sorry. I am so, so sorry. I swear, if you let me love you again, I will never, ever leave you. I’ll never make you cry again, baby, I promise. I’ll never hurt you again. I am so sorry. I know I don’t deserve a chance to love you and Maddie, sweetheart, but please let me try…”

Mike continued until Tara’s sobs had slowed, and he knew she was probably exhausted. It was torture to hear her cry that way, but he was the only one to blame, so he considered it well-earned torture. He held her until she was only sniffling. Minutes ticked by, the silence broken only by her occasional sniff and one deep, shuddering sigh as she struggled for control. Mike stroked her hair gently, marveling at the strength and courage she’d adapted over the years. The Tara he’d known wouldn’t have fought him when he pulled her down to cry. She would have gone into his arms easily and allowed him to comfort her. But not this new Tara. She was proud, and rightfully so. Proud of the years she’d struggled through alone and proud of the person she’d become. Mike didn’t blame her. Hell, he was proud of her too. But it hurt like hell to know that he’d been the one to force that on her. Pulling away just enough to see her face, he looked down at her and waited for her to look at him.

When she finally did, she looked quickly back down and said in a small voice, “I need a tissue.”

Mike nodded and loosened his hold on her. “If I let you up to get one, will you come right back?” At Tara’s nod, he relaxed his arms and watched her as she stood and walked to the bathroom. She blew her nose several times, and he heard water running and guessed she was washing her face.

When Tara walked out of the bathroom, she glanced over at him and smiled hesitantly. “Your shirt is soaked. Where are your clean ones? I’ll get you another one.”

“Top right drawer,” Mike said, gesturing to the dresser next to the door. He jerked his soggy, tear soaked shirt over his head and put on the new one she tossed to him. “Thanks.”

Tara moved toward the table, but when she started to sit in her previously vacated chair, Mike stopped her.

“You said you’d come back. I meant over here.”

Tara froze halfway into the chair and looked at him with wide eyes. “You mean in your lap?”

“Yeah.” When she hesitated, Mike promised, “I won’t bite. Come on.”

Tara moved closer, and Mike took her arm to pull her into the same position she’d been before: legs dangling over the side and her head tucked snugly against his shoulder. When he was satisfied with her position, he began.

“We made love, Tara. We can’t pretend it didn’t happen or dance around the issue. I know it was too soon, and I’m sorry. But I’m sorry it was too soon, I’m not sorry it happened.” Mike linked his hand with hers and toyed lightly with her fingers. “I’m not going to tell you I won’t try to kiss you or hold you again, but I promise that I will do my damnedest not to let it get out of hand again.” He took a deep breath. “Just promise me you won’t shut me out. Okay?”

Tara dipped her head down and let her hair fall forward to hide her face. Mike brushed her hair behind her ear, his touch light. He watched her carefully, trying to read her expression. He wanted to say the right things, do the right things. But he wasn’t always certain what that was with Tara. He wanted her to know that he was even
feeling
the right things. But every time she seemed to be considering another relationship with him, he’d fuck up somehow and bring all those old issues to the surface.

Mike had abandoned her, abandoned their child. He’d hurt and humiliated Tara, and worst of all, he’d made her feel cheap and used. Mike didn’t want her to ever feel that way again, especially at his hands. And she needed to understand he would never let Madelynn be hurt that way.

Unable to bear the silence a second longer, Mike said, “Please tell me what you’re thinking.”

Tara opened her mouth to answer and hesitated before saying, “I’m thinking that I don’t want to get involved with you because the odds are that you’ll leave again. And I have to think about Madelynn. She’d be crushed.”

Mike looked down, anywhere but at her, as his heart sank. “What will it take to convince you that I’m not going anywhere? Because whatever it is, Tara, I’ll do it.” When she didn’t respond, he continued, “Would you be convinced if we got married?” She looked up at him, horrified, and Mike bit his tongue to keep from saying something else
really
stupid and scaring her off for good. Like how he wished that he’d asked her to marry him when she’d told him she was pregnant, and how he’d thought about her every day since he’d left, and that she wasn’t alone because Mike had never recovered from losing her, either. The admissions built up behind the wall of his chest, threatening to explode from him. But he knew some things were best left unsaid, at least for a little while.

“Is that your idea of a proposal?” Tara asked, incredulous.

“No,” Michael answered tersely, his jaw tight.
Fuck.
He had to get control of his mouth. “Forget I said anything. I just want you to trust me when I say I’m not going anywhere.”

Tara watched him, angry sparks shooting from her eyes. “Time, Michael. It takes time.”

Mike took a deep breath and looked out the window. He had time. “Time. I can do that.” He looked back at Tara and cupped the side of her face, running his thumb across her lower lip. He brushed the hair away from her forehead and watched the way it drifted over his fingers. Mike stroked his hand down her cheek and murmured, “I’ve got all the time in the world.” He tilted Tara’s chin up and touched his lips gently to hers for the briefest of moments, and then let her go with a deep breath. “Maddie. You’d better go get Maddie.”

Tara nodded, stood, and then moved across the room to open the door. She paused in the open doorway and turned back to him. “For what it’s worth, Michael, I wouldn’t have said no.” She smiled softly. “I wouldn’t have said yes, either, but I wouldn’t have said no.” With that, she turned and left the room.

When the door closed quietly behind her, Mike let out the breath he’d been holding. He’d been afraid while she was sitting in his lap that Tara would notice the hardness beneath her bottom. Then when she’d made that admission before leaving, it had been everything he could do to bite his tongue to keep from asking again. What had she meant, she wouldn’t say no? Maybe? Later? Mike would give his good leg to be able to wake up beside her every morning for the rest of his life; to be able to see her pregnant with his baby again. Now that he knew he had a chance, he was going to—