Her Leading Hero

by Maggie Dallen

  A jumble of emotions threatened to overwhelm her—and not all of them had to do with her family. It had been more than a week since she’d seen Gregory, and each day she had thought it might start to get easier.

  Somehow it only seemed to get worse. Losing Gregory was like losing a limb. Even when she was distracted by work or planning to see her family, there was something missing. There was a hole where her heart should be.

  The worst part was that she could feel herself going back to the dark place. She found herself doubting every decision she’d made, everything from agreeing to work for Gregory to telling her friends about her past. Most of all, she kept berating herself for falling for Gregory. She’d done this to herself. Despite all her promises and vows to make her own peace of mind her priority, she’d gone and broken every self-made rule. And look where that had gotten her.

  She was right back where she’d started.

  The fact that she would be facing her family soon didn’t help. It brought the past into the present, and she’d been forced to deal with it in a way she hadn’t in far too long.

  Marc had noticed the change in her and had called her out on it in typical Marc fashion. There was no beating around the bush with her best friend. “You look like shit,” he’d said, coming into her bedroom and flopping down at the edge of her bed. “And you’re not acting like yourself.”

  She’d scowled at him over the blanket she’d been happily buried under as she watched a Charlie Chaplin movie on her laptop. “Oh yeah, and how am I acting?”

  He’d dropped the teasing tone and turned serious. “You’re acting like you did way back when I first met you.” He patted her leg as if to ease the pain of his statement. “Like you’re scared of your own shadow.”

  He’d been right. Not that she was scared of Gregory. No, she was scared of herself. Of how quickly she’d lost herself. Of how quickly she’d given someone else the power to hurt her. Again.

  She’d started to think she was safe. Immune from that kind of pain. She’d become overly confident. So yeah, she was scared. Which was why, when Marc had offered to come home with her for moral support, she’d been all too happy to take him up on it. If nothing else, maybe he could keep her from obsessing over Gregory.

  She heard him packing his bag in the other room when the sound of the buzzer had her running for the door. “Did you order lunch?”

  Marc’s “no” reached her just as she flung open the door.

  For a second time she was speechless and confused, facing Gregory on her doorstep. “What are you doing here?”

  As quickly as hope rose in her, she squashed it down. He was probably here on business.

  Or…maybe not. His mouth was set in a firm line, and there was a tautness around his eyes that mirrored her own. There were also bags under his eyes, and he sported a five o’clock shadow.

  He looked miserable. Her heart went out to him, and she fought the urge to go to him, wrap her arms around his waist and tell him everything would be okay.

  She gripped the edge of the door to keep herself from doing just that. Instead she repeated herself, since he seemed to be similarly frozen, despite the fact that he had come to see her. “What are you doing here?”

  Then the spell was broken and he took a step toward her. “I made a mistake.”

  She blinked up at him, certain that she’d heard wrong. “You… What?”

  He licked his lips and moved even closer until she backed up, scrambling to get some distance lest she lose all control.

  “Tamara Pierce, you are the best thing that has ever happened to me.” At her shocked silence, he added, “Ever.”

  Her mouth gaped open but no sound came out. That was so not what she’d been expecting. Her heart threatened to burst out of her chest with joy while her mind went in an entirely different direction. Don’t trust him. He hurt her once and he’ll do it again.

  As quickly as her heart leapt with excitement, it stopped. The instant flood of joy was replaced by a cold sensation. Fear. More like terror. Whatever it was, it held her in its grip. His ability to send her emotions spiraling out of control with one simple sentence…that alone was terrifying. The fact that he could destroy her entirely if he broke her heart for a second time left her trembling before him.

  He closed the distance between them, crossing into her apartment and shutting the door behind him before reaching for her.

  She stiffened but didn’t pull away. She couldn’t—not yet. The feel of his arms around her was too sweet. His scent and touch flooded her body with warm sensations that left her aching to press against him, to get as close as humanly possible.

  “I’m sorry.” His voice was slightly muffled as he spoke into her hair, but she heard him.

  The best she could manage was a short, jerky nod. It wasn’t like she thought he’d intentionally hurt her. And she was sorry too. Sorry she’d ever let him get close in the first place. She should have known better—she had known better. There had never been any doubt that she would get hurt, but she hadn’t expected him to get hurt as well.

  But it was clear they were both in pain and she could have avoided it—she could have kept them both safe if she’d followed her own rules. The ones she’d created to avoid this exact situation.

  He pulled back to look at her, and the depth of emotion in those warm brown eyes made her heart ache. He cared about her, he truly did. Which made what she had to do that much harder.

  “I’m so sorry I hurt you,” he said. “I’d give anything to go back and tell you exactly what you mean to me.”

  She nodded. “I’m sorry, too. For everything.”

  He went to pull her back into his arms, but this time she had the strength to resist. “Gregory.”

  His gaze moved from her eyes to her lips and back again. What he saw there made his hands loosen their grip on her waist.

  She swallowed back tears and tried to keep her voice even. “I accept your apology…but nothing has changed.”

  His eyes narrowed on her, their brown depths filled with pain and confusion. “I promise I won’t hurt you again, Tamara, just give me another chance.”

  She shook her head and tried not to hear the pleading in his tone. This was hard enough; she didn’t need any more guilt or second-guessing. One thing was clear—this man held too much power over her.

  A searing pain sliced through her, but she forced herself to stay strong. It might be painful, but better to deal with the pain now than to spend a lifetime vulnerable. And that’s what she would be if she went back to Gregory now. She’d be at his mercy, and slowly but surely she’d lose herself in him. She’d drown in her love for him and he would have complete control. It had happened before, and she wouldn’t let it happen again.

  He might be sorry, but he would hurt her again. Unintentionally, most likely, but the pain was the same. She’d been so caught up in having fun with this man that she’d nearly missed the fact that she’d been on the verge of losing herself in him. She couldn’t risk that.

  First she’d be happy, then she’d start caring more about his wants and needs than her own. Soon she’d be so dependent on him that she wouldn’t survive a breakup.

  His gaze was fixed on her, his eyes pleading.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “I can’t do this. I can’t risk it.”

  “You can trust me. I won’t hurt you again.”

  The words sounded eerily familiar. How many times had Billy promised the same thing? But this was different—Gregory wouldn’t set out to hurt her. She knew he hadn’t set out to hurt her, but he’d hurt her nonetheless.

  “I can move past my issues with my father,” Gregory said. He took a step closer and reached for her, but she jerked back, out of his reach. He let his hands drop, but his gaze stayed on her, challenging her. “You’ve made me realize that. We can start fresh. I promise you, I can be strong enough for bo
th of us. I should have fought for us before. I shouldn’t have given up without a fight. It won’t happen again.”

  Tears stung the back of her eyes. “I know you’d be strong. And I know you’d try not to hurt me.” Couldn’t he see? He wasn’t the issue. It was her. It had always been her.

  “Tamara—” He went to touch her hair, but she knocked his hand away. She could barely think straight as it was. His touch would undo her.

  “You might be strong enough to give this another shot.” She dropped her gaze, unable to see the hurt in his eyes. “But I’m not that strong. I can’t risk falling apart again.”

  The silence lasted so long that she finally looked up to find him staring down at her. The pain in his eyes was unmistakable. “Fine.” He backed up and reached for the doorknob. “If that’s your final decision, I’ll respect it.”

  She gave a jerky nod, not trusting herself to speak.

  * * * *

  She needed space, so he would give it to her. Hell, she needed more than just space—she wanted nothing to do with him. Pain sliced through him, familiar now but no less painful than the moment she’d told him it was over. For good.

  And maybe she was right. It was her decision, and who was he to say she was wrong? He might be ready to try again, but could he really ask her to take that kind of chance on someone like him…someone who had a terrible track record and one strike to his name? No, she’d made her choice, and if he was being honest with himself, he could admit it was probably the right one. She seemed convinced that he’d hurt her again, and he couldn’t promise that wasn’t true.

  So he’d do right by her. He’d respect her decision and he’d keep his distance. But staying away proved more difficult than he’d imagined. He might not have known her for long, but she’d gotten into his system. Her absence in his life felt like a gaping hole. By the time his weekly dinner with Elena rolled around, Gregory was a mess.

  “Darling,” Elena called as he headed toward her table in the back of the restaurant. Her expression shifted from joy at seeing him to concern as she eyed him from head to toe. When he reached the table and leaned down to kiss her cheek, she murmured, “Should I be worried?”

  He played dumb. “About?”

  She lowered her chin and pursed her lips in a rare show of disappointment. “You, of course.” Waving a hand toward his mussed hair, five o’clock shadow, and wrinkled shirt, she added, “You look like a hobo.”

  “Thank you, Elena,” he muttered as he took a sip of his water. “Always a pleasure to see you, as well.”

  She leaned forward and lowered her voice. “Is this about your girlfriend?”

  His jaw clenched, but he kept his tone even. “I don’t have a girlfriend.”

  Elena’s lips thinned as she rolled her eyes. “Fine. Is this about Tammy?”

  He flinched at the sound of her name. God, wasn’t time supposed to heal all wounds? Why the hell was he feeling worse by the second?

  “Are you worried about her reunion with her parents?” She pulled an olive out of her martini and popped it in her mouth. “Don’t be. Her parents are delighted to be back in her life. They can’t wait to get their little girl back—if one can be considered a little girl at her age.”

  At his frown, she quickly added, “Not that she’s old, darling. But she’s not a girl, you know. She’s a grown woman.”

  Oh, he knew. She was preaching to the choir on that one. But the frown wasn’t at the use of the term “girl” so much as it was that Tamara was going through this ordeal alone. Reuniting with her family after all this time had to be bringing back painful memories. She shouldn’t be on her own.

  Ah hell, who was he trying to kid? She didn’t need him, she’d made that clear. Not only did she not need him, she didn’t want him.

  “She needs you, you know.”

  For a second he thought he’d made up the words—that they’d come from God or something. But no. It was just Elena watching him with a sad, knowing smile. Almost…pitying.

  Crap. Was he that obvious?

  “She doesn’t need me. It sounds like she’s doing just fine on her own.”

  Elena nodded. “That’s true. I think that girl is finally coming into her own. She held her own at the holiday party, that’s for sure. And from what her mother tells me, she’s been the picture of maturity and understanding when it comes to her family and making amends. But I do think the timing is pretty telling, don’t you? This new and improved Tamara didn’t come forward until she met you.”

  He let out a short, humorless laugh. “Yeah, because I forced her.”

  “You pushed her,” Elena amended. “We all need a push sometimes. Someone to challenge us and help us to grow.”

  He studied Elena for a moment as she toyed with the stirrer in her drink, looking far too innocent.

  “Stepmother, dearest,” he drawled. “Why do I get the impression that we’re no longer talking about Tamara?”

  “Because we’re not, dear,” she said gently.

  “Wonderful.” He muttered it under his breath, but she clearly heard him considering the twinkle of amusement in her eyes.

  “Bear with me, Gregory. Somebody has to step in and tell you when you’re acting like an ass, and as your stepmother, it’s my burden to bear.”

  His mouth fell open, but before he could speak, she added, “I swear, sometimes you are just like your father.”

  “I’m nothing like him,” he bit out, a little too loudly judging by the stares he got from the table next to them.

  Elena, however, looked unfazed. “Of course you are, dear. Why else do you think he’s so hard on you?”

  Was she kidding? The answer to that was obvious. “Because I’m just like her.”

  “Your mother,” Elena clarified, as if it wasn’t a known fact. She tipped her head to the side and studied him. “I knew her, you know. Before she left you and your father, of course. Back when she was a young debutante like Tamara once was.”

  He stared at his stepmother, too surprised to comment. He and Elena had never talked about his mother, just like he and his father never spoke her name.

  Honestly it had never occurred to him that Elena might have known her. He put them in such different categories in his brain—the one who left and the one who stayed—somehow it seemed odd that they could have interacted in the real world. As if he was the only thing between them.

  Well, him and his father, of course.

  “She was a lovely woman,” Elena said. “You look just like her, that much is true.”

  That much he’d always known. Even if he hadn’t found the occasional picture of his mother around the house, he remembered her well enough to recognize the black hair and brown eyes he saw in the mirror every day.

  “She was also very passionate—very emotive—just like you.”

  He tried not to roll his eyes. That was also nothing new.

  Elena leaned forward and captured his hand in hers. “But you have your father’s sense of loyalty and ethics.”

  He stared at her, waiting to see if she was serious.

  Deadly serious if the look in her eyes was anything to go by.

  He pulled his hand back gently. “That’s sweet of you to say, but—”

  “Don’t you ‘but’ me, young man.”

  He blinked in surprise. She hadn’t used that tone—or called him “young man,” for that matter—for longer than he could remember.

  Still using her no-nonsense tone, she barreled on, ignoring his wide-eyed stare. “Now, your father has a lot of wonderful qualities. Loyalty is one of them. But any trait taken to extremes can have a negative side. For your father, the flip side of loyalty is stubbornness.”

  He raised one brow. It wasn’t like he could argue with that.

  “When you were small, your father looked at you and saw your mother.” Elena took a
sip of her martini and set it back down. “He saw her looks and her passion in you, and it scared the shit out of him…. Excuse my language.”

  Gregory swallowed a laugh.

  She met his gaze. “You inherited some of your mother’s traits—her best traits, I’d say. But you’re also your father’s son. Just like him, you are loyal and trustworthy. A good man—one who looks out for the people he loves and the ones who rely on him, like his employees.”

  Gregory opened his mouth to interject but she hurried on. “But he’s stubborn. He got it into his head that he had to beat your mother out of you, not understanding that there were good parts to her as well—the parts he fell in love with.”

  He found himself too stunned to form words. For some reason he’d never once imagined his father in love with his mother. It seemed too crazy that he could ever have loved the woman he so clearly despised.

  “Your mother’s emotions weren’t her downfall,” Elena said softly. “Her love for you and your father didn’t make her fickle or faithless. Her love was what made her such a wonderful woman. Kind, charismatic…the woman your father fell in love with.”

  He went to argue. Not because he didn’t see the truth of what she was saying but because his father’s voice was so ingrained in him. “But—”

  She cut him off with a wave of her hand. “That’s not to say that she didn’t have her faults. Of course she did. No woman leaves her family lightly, and something tells me your mother had some demons she was fighting. Demons that had nothing to do with you.”

  This last part was said so gently and with such tenderness that his chest constricted with emotion.

  Elena’s tone lightened as she added, “Heck, it may not have had much to do with your father, for that matter, not that he’d believe it.”

  He stared at her, temporarily speechless at seeing his family from an objective point of view. Well, not totally objective, but Elena clearly had a dramatically different take on his mother’s leaving than his father did.