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

by Hill, Teresa

  They'd gotten married too fast. She'd known that. They'd had too many differences, some that they hadn't even discovered until after they were married. Like Tucker saying he didn't think he'd make a good father. He'd meant it. She hadn't realized just how much he'd meant it until it was too late, until she was pregnant, hoping a baby might somehow help hold together her already troubled marriage.

  It had been terribly unfair to Sammy. He deserved the very best she had to give him, and as Rebecca saw it, the best gift a mother could give her son was to bring him into the world in the midst of a strong, loving marriage. Because being a parent was hard. It was so very hard sometimes, and it scared her—being the one person in the world Sammy truly had. What if something happened to her? What if she was doing it all wrong? What if she couldn't be all that he needed? It was a job that surely was easier for two people.

  Rebecca almost wept then. The sadness was just too much, too big, too overwhelming. How much of it could one person take?

  It was so much easier when she could think of Tucker as a cold, unfeeling person. It was easier to hate him and then try to push him from her mind.

  Why did he have to come back and bring up all these things in their shared past? Why?

  He caught her unaware, lost in her thoughts and her unanswered questions, and before she could stop him, he caught another tear as it ran down her face. He was wiping her tears away, again.

  But she had to remember there'd also been so many nights when she'd cried her eyes out and he'd been nowhere to be found.

  She had to remember, because he was the most dangerous man she'd ever met. He touched her where no one else had. He connected with her on some level that no one else had ever reached. Why did it have to be that way between them, still, after all these years?

  "I can't do this, Tucker."

  She backed away nervously, as far as she could from her seat on the sofa, and when it wasn't far enough, she got up and backed up against the wall and held up her hands to warn him off.

  "I don't want to be here with you. I don't want you to try to explain things to me or to make me understand, and I don't want you to touch me again." She was revealing much more than she should have with her plea, but she didn't care. She just couldn't take any more. "I can't be here with you like this. It's too hard. It hurts too much, and it won't change anything, anyway."

  He stared at her from across the room, and she was grateful for the distance, although it did little to diminish the power he had over her.

  "I just can't do it, Tucker."

  He watched her for the longest time, watched her as if he were trying to look deep inside her and know all her secret thoughts. And just when she'd decided he wasn't going to back away, he did.

  "All right," he said.

  He went to the door, and she breathed a little easier. He opened it, and she felt some semblance of self-control again.

  "I'll see you—"

  She backed away a little as he paused in the doorway.

  "I'll see Sammy?"

  She nodded, still wary, still shaken.

  "Tomorrow?"

  "Yes."

  Tomorrow.

  How was she going to get through tomorrow?

  Chapter 6

  Sammy woke early, with another tummy ache.

  He'd thought it would feel better this morning, now that he'd already met his dad. But it didn't. Now he was worried about the game.

  His dad was coming to the soccer game, the very first one, and Sammy was glad, but he was scared, too. He wasn't very good at soccer. He was too little, and he wasn't fast enough. He tried as hard as he could, but the ball kept getting by him. And that was just at practice. Today was the real thing, the first game, and he didn't want to mess up in front of his dad.

  He rolled out of bed and looked at the messed-up covers. They were going every which way. He wasn't sure he could straighten them out even if he tried. So he didn't. He figured he could get away with it one more time.

  Sammy walked down the hall to his mom's room, and she was still in bed. He smiled and tiptoed over to the bed. He didn't want to wake her up. He just wanted to snuggle for a minute.

  He lay down right beside her and tried not to breathe. He loved his mom. She was the greatest. And he liked his dad, too.

  He just wished he understood why they didn't like each other anymore. And he wondered if it was his fault.

  * * *

  Tucker ran through the events of the day, time and again and long into the early morning hours.

  He was overwhelmed by his feelings for his son. Awe and wonder, fear and fascination, pride and sorrow.

  Tucker had missed so much already. He didn't want to miss another moment with Sammy. He'd known that within the first hour of meeting the boy. He was never going to turn his back on this child again.

  So what if he didn't know anything about being a father? He'd figure it out. He and Sammy would make their own way. They'd make it work.

  He would probably screw up every now and then, but he'd make damned sure that his son knew his father cared about him.

  Tucker hadn't tried to explain himself to Sammy yet, and Sammy hadn't asked. All the boy had done was tell Tucker about the birthday party.

  Even now, just thinking about it nearly killed Tucker. The image of those big, sad eyes staring at birthday candles had been burned into his brain. All he had to do was think about it, and a weight settled down onto his chest, and it was all he could do to breathe.

  Tucker vowed he would be six feet under before he missed another birthday party.

  And Rebecca?

  God, what was he going to do about Rebecca?

  Who'd have thought he would feel this way after all these years? It was crazy and it was hopeless, but still, there it was.

  He felt like she was still his, like she always had been and she always would be. And that was crazy. She'd ceased to be his wife a long time ago. He'd killed whatever feelings she once had for him long before their marriage ended.

  Still, he felt the power between them. He'd been close enough to her tonight to smell the fresh scent of her hair. It reminded him of rainwater, always had, always would.

  And he had no business being close enough to notice, and no business remembering.

  But he had gotten that close, and he couldn't help but remember. He remembered the way her body fit exactly, breathtakingly, against his. He remembered her smile, her laughter, her tears. He'd brought out her tears again tonight.

  Damn, this was crazy.

  The tears had reminded him of sitting in front of her and holding her hands in his, of running his thumb over the back of her hand and her fingers. He remembered the gold ring she'd always worn on the little finger of her right hand.

  It had been her grandmother's. For a while, he'd been angry that she wore that simple gold band, yet didn't care for the expensive, impressive gemstones he'd given her.

  He'd started with a big, oval-shaped diamond with light dancing inside it, as an engagement ring. And she'd worn it for a while after they got married.

  Sometime later, they'd had a fight. He couldn't even remember what it had been about, but he'd gone out and bought the emerald, square cut and surrounded by diamonds, to apologize. When he gave it to her, her lips had moved to form a smile, but her eyes had said something different, and she didn't wear it. She said it was too big, that it stood so high above her hand that she kept knocking the stone against things, and she was afraid she would break it.

  When he gave her the pearl set, she hadn't even smiled. It seemed to make things worse between them.

  So, years ago, he'd spent a lot of time watching her hands, looking at her grandmother's little gold ring and wondering why she would wear that and not the fancier stones he'd given her.

  He'd watched her with her wedding band, too, the only other ring she wore, and wondered how long it would be on her finger.

  Tonight, when he'd held her hands and breathed in the rain-fresh scent of her hair, she'd
worn only her grandmother's ring.

  Not his ring. Not Brian's. Just her grandmother's.

  Rebecca would wear her wedding ring if she were married. Tucker was certain of it. That was the kind of woman she was. So, if she wasn't wearing a ring, then...

  It didn't make sense, he thought. It couldn't be. She couldn't be free. She was supposed to be married to Brian. He was supposed to be her happily-ever-after.

  Brian had been there the first night Tucker called to speak to Sammy. He'd heard Rebecca talking with him in the background. And Brian had been in a lot of the pictures, the ones that Margaret sent of Christmases and birthdays. He'd been in pictures at the house, too, in a couple on the wall beside the staircase and another one on the end table in the living room.

  So where was his ring? Why wasn't Rebecca wearing his ring?

  Could they be divorced? Maybe Rebecca had found out that being married to Brian the wonder boy wasn't all she thought it would be.

  Tucker's heart beat faster at the thought that she might be free again.

  So, he was slow to go to sleep in the too-short, too-narrow hotel bed, and he was slow to wake up, too, until he remembered what he wanted to do.

  He squinted at the bright sunlight shining through the narrow gap in the drapes, then turned to find the clock. Seven-twenty on a Sunday morning. It wasn't too early, he thought, and reached for the phone.

  He punched out a phone number he knew by heart, then cursed when he got her voice mail. He needed to ask Margaret Harwell some questions that he should have asked long ago.

  * * *

  Rebecca was composed by the time Tucker pulled into the driveway that morning. She knew she'd faltered yesterday. She'd been weak and let him get behind her defenses, let him get too close, but she wouldn't do that again.

  She'd been a little crazy, thinking that he'd come back to stay, that she would have to see him on regular visits with Sammy and that she might not be able to stand that.

  But she was getting way ahead of herself. Who was to say Tucker really would be around for long? She knew what he was like—here today, gone tomorrow. She had no reason to believe he had changed.

  He was probably just curious about Sammy and feeling a little guilty. It would pass, and he would go away again. She just hoped he wouldn't hurt her little boy too much in the process.

  "He's here!" Sammy must have been watching out the window, because Tucker hadn't even made it up the steps to the door when Sammy flung it open. The boy positively beamed, and all his father had done was return to their house for the second time in years.

  Okay, Tucker was here. She could handle that. She could be civilized for a few minutes. Rebecca had decided to skip the soccer game. There'd be plenty of others for her to attend, and she didn't want to spend the time with Tucker. So all she had to do was get him back out the door with Sammy.

  Tucker grinned at his son, and they both stood there, happy to see each other and unsure what to do about it.

  She waited, unsure of what to do herself. She honestly did want Sammy to have a good relationship with his father, but she was also terribly afraid that Tucker would let the boy down.

  "Hey, sport." Tucker ruffled Sammy's hair as Sammy leaned against Tucker's right leg, then gave it a hug.

  Tucker paused, his eyes closed and his arm gripping the boy's shoulder to hold him close.

  It did something funny to her heart, just seeing them together this way. All her vows to keep her distance and maintain some emotional stability appeared to be in jeopardy again today. Her heart was right in the middle of this, as exposed as it had always been around Tucker.

  Tucker opened his eyes and caught her staring. What did that look on his face mean? It was so serious, so intense, so unsettling.

  She wondered if he realized that he'd been given a very precious gift—a little boy's trust, a chance to win his heart, to share in his life.

  Sammy was ready to give him that chance. She knew from the conversation they'd had this morning when she and Sammy had snuggled together in her bed.

  A child could offer an amazing amount of forgiveness. Sammy hadn't asked why his father had left or why he'd stayed away so long. Sammy was simply happy Tucker was back and hoping he would stay this time.

  "Good morning," Tucker said.

  "Morning," she said.

  And before she knew what was happening, he was much too close. She had no time to back away. All she could do was put up her hands to ward him off.

  Too late. She was too late. His lips, warm and soft, brushed her cheek, lingering for just a moment too long, unsettling her more than she would have believed possible. He caught her left hand in his and held it for a moment longer than necessary while he studied it.

  "Where's Brian?"

  His voice was gruff, and danger glittered in his beautiful eyes.

  She tugged on her hand, and he finally released it, but he didn't stop looking at her that way. What did he know? What was he after?

  "He's in Naples."

  She didn't want to explain he'd moved there, but Sammy jumped in.

  "He moved far away, 'n' I miss him," Sammy said. "He was s'pposed to come to my game today."

  "Moved?" Tucker turned back to her with a smile on his face. A dangerous smile.

  If she didn't know any better, she'd swear that Tucker knew what happened yesterday between her and Brian.

  It was wrong of her to want to use Brian as a shield from Tucker, but she was desperate. She would have done it, but now she couldn't.

  "Yes," she admitted. "Brian took a new job in Naples a little while ago."

  "Yeah, 'n' now he wants us to come live with him," Sammy added innocently.

  Tucker didn't look so sure of himself anymore, and Rebecca, who'd been ready to strangle her son a minute ago, now gave him a quick hug.

  "You guys need to get going if you want to grab something to eat before the game."

  "You're not coming?" Tucker said.

  She managed to smile at him, very sweetly. "I thought I'd give you two some time alone. Besides, it'll give me a chance to catch up on some work."

  "But, Mom! It's the first game." Sammy looked so distressed.

  "I know, sweetie, but there'll be lots of others for me to see."

  He slipped his little hand into hers and looked up at her with big, worried eyes.

  She was trapped, Rebecca realized. Trapped by a pair of worried brown eyes and mother-guilt, one of the most powerful weapons a child had, one that Sammy wielded like a pro when it suited him.

  "No," she said, feeling defeated and defenseless as she gave in, "I guess I can't miss the first one."

  * * *

  Sammy thought he probably shouldn't have eaten the hotdog. His tummy felt all fluttery at first, and then it started to hurt. He'd had a good time so far. He'd walked right beside his dad, holding his hand and introducing him to all of his friends at the ball field, even Jimmy Horton.

  But now it was time for the game to start, and he didn't feel so good. He had trouble remembering where he was supposed to stand and what he was supposed to do. And he couldn't always keep up with the bigger kids.

  Lots of people were here today, too, and he didn't like the way they were all watching. He felt like everyone was waiting to see if he messed up during the real game the way he did at practice.

  He looked out across the sidelines until he found his mom. She smiled and blew him a kiss.

  Then he found his dad, and his tummy started fluttering again. He didn't want to mess up in front of his dad.

  * * *

  It was a parent's nightmare.

  Rebecca and Tucker sat on the sidelines in their folding camp chairs, each holding their breath, waiting and worrying.

  Sammy had finally been sent into the game, and he seemed a little confused. He didn't know where to stand.

  "What's the matter with him?"

  "He'll be fine," Rebecca said, and hoped she was right. "He just gets a little confused in the game sometimes."<
br />
  "But—"

  "What?" Rebecca finally took her eyes off the field and looked at the man sitting next to her.

  He was driving her crazy. If she had to introduce him to one more woman at the soccer field and watch them get all flustered and start worrying about their hair or their clothes, she would scream.

  Tucker smiled and women went nuts. They were falling all over themselves trying to get an introduction, and then they gave her that look. A look that said, "You'd have to be crazy to divorce him."

  "He just looks so—" Tucker shrugged, looked a little sheepish, but continued "—so little out there, so lost."

  Rebecca watched him, brushed her hands across her eyes and wondered if she was seeing what she thought she was seeing. He still looked the same as he had a moment ago—worried, all because his son looked a little unsure of himself on the soccer field.

  She found it positively endearing for all of three seconds.

  Wait a minute, she reminded herself. This was Tucker. She knew this man. She knew what he was like, and he wasn't the kind of man to get all bent out of shape because his kid had a hard time on the soccer field.

  "What's the coach doing?" he said anxiously.

  The coach, Bill MacGuire, took Sammy by the hand, showed him his spot and pointed him in the right direction, then motioned to the referee to let the game begin.

  Rebecca watched in terror as the whistle blew and every little boy but hers started scrambling down the field toward the ball.

  Sammy just froze while the ball and the boys bounced all around him.

  Rebecca leaned a little closer to Tucker, and she didn't object when he leaned toward her and put his arm around her.

  Sammy still hadn't moved.

  "Rebecca?"

  "Give him a minute. It's the first game."

  People on the sidelines were starting to notice now. They whispered and pointed at the sad little boy frozen in place on the field.

  The ball whizzed past Sammy, and he didn't even try to get it. All the other boys circled around him, scrambling for the ball, and Sammy just stood there.

  Finally someone kicked the ball out of bounds, and with a whistle, the game came to a halt again.