“Of course she is. Damn it, I don’t like this,” Tara repeated. He’d lost count of how many times she’d said that since being given the doctor’s advice. Tara left no room for questions on where she stood regarding their opinions.
Tara rubbed her forehead, then raked her hand over her face. Despite the fact that Sam found his wife stunningly beautiful at all times, he couldn’t deny how exhausted she appeared. She had to be in a rough position, worried about Marley and having the one man she couldn’t stand the sight of back in her house.
He couldn’t blame her. There had been days he couldn’t stand the sight of himself, either. But then he’d healed, he’d started taking a whole new outlook on life. And he was damn well going to keep moving forward until he was proud of himself again.
Without thinking, Sam took a step and started to reach for her. He hesitated, his hand in the air between them. Tara glanced from his extended arm to his eyes. Her silence was more of a green light than he’d experienced in a year.
Slowly he reached for her, feathering his fingertips across her face. Her eyes remained locked onto his and he wasn’t sure if either of them had taken a breath.
“Sam.”
He said nothing as he slid her hair behind her ear and left his hand right there, right at the edge of her jawline where she had a sensitive spot.
“I know you don’t want me here and I promise not to make things difficult.” Yet he couldn’t stop himself from touching her. “Just because we’re getting divorced doesn’t mean I don’t care. You’re tired, Tara.”
“I’ll rest when she’s better.” Her bottom lip quivered a second before she glanced away. “I appreciate you being here for her, though.”
Anger bubbled within him.
“Where did you think I’d be? She’s my daughter.”
Tara shook her head. “She is, but—”
“Are you going to go there?” he asked, crossing his arms over his chest. “Are you going to throw my past into my face? Fine, let’s bring it out into the open again. I know I didn’t make it to her birthday party. I’m well aware I missed bedtime stories and tucking her in more times than I can count, and I’m damn well aware of the fact that I let you down. I’ll say it until you believe it, but I’m sorry. I’m sorry for the hell you had to endure.”
Tara closed her eyes and pulled in a deep breath. Sam had to fist his hands at his sides to keep from reaching for her again. He was angry, but mostly at himself. No, he didn’t like that she was going to bring up the wall that had divided them, but at the same time, he deserved no less.
She’d see eventually that he’d changed, that his separation from her would be his penance until the day he died. That didn’t mean he’d ever give up showing her that he still cared...that he still loved her.
“I didn’t mean to bring it up,” she whispered, tears welling up in her eyes. “I know you worked hard to get clean, but this past year has been rough and now with Marley...”
Never in the past had he questioned when to comfort and hold Tara, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to start now. They were in this together and seeing her hurt absolutely ripped his heart to shreds.
Sam closed the gap between them and wrapped his arms around her. When she stiffened, Sam gritted his teeth and cursed every blasted pill he’d ever popped, every lie he’d ever told, every tear he’d ever caused her to shed.
“You can trust me to be here for this,” he murmured against her ear. “You can trust that this recovery period will be me as the foundation and the rock. I promise you.”
She didn’t return his hug; her arms dangled limp at her sides. But she rested her forehead on his chest. That small act proved she still cared for him. Maybe that was even worse than having her hate him. If they cared for each other, but couldn’t find a way to be together, wasn’t that the worst punishment of all?
“Group hug.”
Sam glanced to the doorway as Marley smiled and came at them with her little arms open wide. He turned his attention back to Tara. She sniffed as she glanced up and met his eyes when Marley wrapped her arms around them...or tried to, anyway.
“I thought you were sleeping,” Sam said, not taking his eyes off his wife.
When Tara remained still, Sam slid his hands down her arms and eased them onto her waist.
“Group hug,” he murmured.
“I don’t want to rest. I can’t stop thinking about Daisy and my heart hurts.” Marley eased back, then frowned. “Why is Mom crying?”
They were quite the trio of depressing emotions at the moment. Was it even possible they could all heal each other? Sam sure as hell hoped so because he didn’t want to see his girls this upset over anything ever again.
“I’m so glad you’re home and safe. I’m so sorry about Daisy. She loved you very much.” Tara pulled away from Sam and bent to face Marley. “What do you say we paint? I bought new canvases the other day.”
“Paint?” Marley seemed surprised by the request, but then her face lit up. “I love to paint.”
And she was damn good at it, too, even for her age. They’d given her art lessons and she was simply a creative spirit. Sam hoped she hadn’t lost the natural talent. She still had her love of cooking, so perhaps the art would be there, as well.
“Why don’t you two paint? I need to step out for a bit.”
Tara’s eyes instantly came to his. That invisible barrier of protection immediately slid up between them. The way she looked at him, he knew exactly what she was thinking, and, damn it all, he wished she didn’t immediately go to the past.
Yes, when he’d been vague about his outings in the past, he had been going to get a fix, but how long was he going to have to be reminded of that? Did her mistrust have an expiration date?
As much as he wanted to defend himself, he was tired of using words to justify his actions. From here on out, she’d have to learn to trust him or he had no hope of Tara ever moving on and fully understanding just how far he’d come. And he realized they’d never find what they once had, but he sure as hell hoped that, for the sake of Marley, they could be friends without all of the side-eye glances and questioning gazes.
“I’ll paint something extra special for you, Daddy.”
Sam bent and kissed the top of Marley’s head. “I can’t wait to see it.”
Without another word, Sam turned and grabbed his keys off the counter before heading out the door. Right now he needed to concentrate on Marley, not his jumbled feelings for Tara and not the awkwardness that had settled heavy between them.
And he sure as hell couldn’t focus on the fact they’d be spending countless nights together—in the same bed they’d shared as a happily married couple.
The paintings were done and dried, lunch was over, Marley had napped and Sam still hadn’t returned. Tara couldn’t stop the thoughts swirling through her mind. How could she not revert to when he’d lived here and would disappear for hours, and sometimes days, at a time?
For all she’d seen over the past several months, he was doing his best, holding down a steady job and really putting forth an effort to be a better man. But was all of this with Marley too much for him? Did he need to find something to give him a break from reality?
Tara wanted him to remain clean, to keep rolling into another day of sobriety. She only prayed this