A Marriage To Fight For

by Raina Lynn

  “What about what I interrupted?” Rick’s voice wobbled.

  Garrett gave a one-shouldered shrug. “What about it? You’re too old to believe the stork brought you.”

  Maggie’s face crimsoned.

  “Dad, you two were acting like a couple of...of—”

  “Sex-starved teenagers?”

  “Garrett!” Maggie wheezed.

  He gave her a bland look. “Since it’s obviously a problem for him, let’s get it out in the open and be done with it.” His gaze swiveled back to his son.

  Rick stared at him, haunted and looking very much alone.

  “No one is immune to getting carried away,” Garrett said softly. “Your mother and I were married a long time, and that complicates normal boundaries.”

  “Then you’re coming back home?” Naked longing mixed with pain flashed in Rick’s eyes. He clutched his uncaring facade to him like a coat four sizes too small.

  Not so much as a muscle twitched on Ganett’s face. “Would that be so bad?”

  The quarrel had erupted so quickly then changed to yet something else that Maggie felt like Alice falling down the rabbit’s hole.

  “I love you, Rick,” he said quietly, “whether you want to talk or not. And regardless of where I live when I get out of here, I’m in San Francisco to stay.”

  “Whatever.” Rick twitched like a starving animal confronted with an offering of food, too skittish to reach out and take what he so desperately craved. “Can I go now?”

  Garrett nodded placidly, and Rick bolted out the door.

  Despair swamped her. “I thought you two were doing better.”

  “We are.” He sounded so cheerful, her head snapped up. His expression matched his voice.

  “How can you say that?”

  He gazed at her tenderly. “Rick is still convinced I’m going to leave, and he can’t bring himself to take any emotional risks.”

  “Are you saying he wants to?”

  “Not that he can admit, but yes.”

  Maggie groaned and buried her face in her hands, wishing she had a fraction of his confidence.

  “Babe, the root of the problem is that Rick will never be able to recover from the divorce. It’s not in his emotional makeup. He needed a forever family and got us instead.”

  “You mean me.” Her voice was very small.

  Garrett rolled his wheelchair to where she sat. Maggie hadn’t noticed the tear that had dripped down her cheek until he brushed it away.

  “Look at me, babe.”

  Compelled, she did. His expression was achingly tender. “When are you going to stop seeing yourself as a coward? You’re the most courageous woman I know.”

  Maggie made a rude noise. “You’ve been comparing notes with Blake.”

  That seemed to startle him. “No, but if we’ve drawn the same conclusions, it’s because we both know you so well. You doubt yourself sometimes and carry more than your share of guilt, but you’re always strong when you need to be. The rest is just baggage you don’t need to carry around.”

  It wasn’t like him to be so eloquent, and she was both touched and uncomfortable. “Oh, come on, Garrett, I was the one who bailed out of the marriage. I’m the reason Rick is—”

  “Stop it,” he snapped. “I made mistakes, too. I could have fought the divorce, demanded marriage counseling, but I didn’t. Instead—in my infinite wisdom—I decided to let you rattle around in the empty house for a while. I thought the loneliness would get to you, and you’d ask me to come home.”

  She took his hand. “But that didn’t happen, and you got assigned to Washington.”

  “Bingo.”

  So many regrets. So many mistakes. Maggie wiped at her face then sniffed. “So where does that leave us?”

  He stared down at his legs. “No place, I’m afraid.”

  On top of her regular workload, Maggie spent hours each day on Garrett’s therapy. The pace he set drove them both to exhaustion. Never in all her years in rehabilitative medicine had she ever admonished a patient to ease off. He’d made his decision to be released ahead of expectations, and arguing with him about overexertion proved futile.

  Garrett sighed and leaned back on the treatment table. Involuntarily, Maggie took his hand in hers, relishing the tingle of pleasure that raced through her. Each time they touched, she felt the magic of a new love’s first glow. She knew Garrett never allowed himself to succumb to something he’d deemed unwise—such as a reconciliation. He’d made up his mind, and no matter how intense the chemistry between them, whenever he left RPI, their lives would take separate paths, crossing only occasionally because of their son. She didn’t think she could bear it. So she ached for him in silence, trying to ignore the way his eyes darkened with the same need she knew was reflected in her own. Pulling her hand away, she gestured for him to roll over.

  Once he lay comfortably on his stomach, Maggie braced herself to endure the bittersweet torture of running her hands over his satin skin. The muscles needed to be worked to stimulate circulation and retain muscle tone. He needed her skills, and Maggie would be there, no matter the cost.

  A grinning Blake sauntered into the treatment room. “How are Grumpy Bear and friend today?” he asked.

  Grateful for the interruption, Maggie chuckled. Garrett glared.

  “It’s true, big brother,” he chirped, giving Maggie an affectionate hug. “Ever since you two decided not to get back together, your disposition—”

  “That’s enough,” Garrett growled.

  Blake shook his head and pointedly turned away from him. “Well, Mag, he won’t be underfoot Saturday.”

  An irrational sense of panic seized her. “Oh?”

  Casting a mischievous look at his brother, he said, “How does a furlough sound?”

  “A what?” Garrett frowned.

  “It’s a day pass out of this chicken outfit. Sort of a test run before we spring you for good. How does Saturday sound? I’m not on call, and I plan to unplug the phone and flush my pager.”

  Garrett looked thunderstruck.

  “You with me, big brother?” Blake flopped into Garrett’s wheelchair, tilted it back on the rear wheels and grinned as if having just delivered a plum of a Christmas present.

  “0ut?” Garrett breathed, sitting up. “When am I being discharged?”

  “In a week if Saturday goes well and your living arrangements are approved. Which I happen to know they are.”

  Maggie stood rooted in place, torn between pleasure and pain. He can get on with his life, but I won’t see him every day. She rejoiced yet grieved.

  The conversation between the two men continued without her, and she suddenly realized that Blake was singing the virtues of the remodeling he’d done in preparation for Garrett coming to live with him.

  “The ramp at the front and back doors plus some gunk in the guest bath were really the only big things it needed.” Blake dropped the chair back down on all four wheels. “The doorways are plenty wide for you to get through without bashing your knuckles.”

  A disquieting surge of competitiveness flooded her. Her own home needed no more than minor modifications, too, but Blake could offer Garrett so much more. Unlike the wealthy neurosurgeon, she didn’t have a home gym conveniently located across the hall from a downstairs guest room or a backyard swimming pool.

  “What about therapy?” Garrett asked.

  Blake idly pivoted in place and shrugged. “Your slot in RPI’s outpatient program is in the bag. Oh, by the way, since your last visit, I built a solarium around the spa. We use it all winter.”

  Memory flashed of another spa, and Maggie swallowed hard. Bodega Bay. Does he remember?

  “We’re ready whenever you are.” Blake crossed his arms over his chest, insufferably smug.

  “I still don’t know what to say,” Garrett breathed.

  Eyes sparkling, Blake stared at him with theatrical intensity. “Say, ‘thank you, oh, wise and generous sibling.”’

  “Not on a bet.�
� Garrett’s lips twitched. “Is it safe to assume you’ll bill me?”

  Blake burst out laughing. “You got that right. The coming settlement from the airline ought to set you up for life. I want a chunk.”

  The sophomoric heckling deteriorated from there, but Maggie couldn’t help noticing the vague discontent in Garrett’s eyes.

  “Are we running your life again?” she asked bluntly.

  The humor faded. “Not more than a lot,” he answered dryly. “But I don’t have many alternatives.”

  She clamped her jaws shut to keep from offering him one. Their home. Their bed. Arousal coursed through her veins, settling low in her stomach. Firmly, she squashed it.

  “Hey, bro,” Blake broke in, “if you want to live someplace else...” His gaze cut blatantly to Maggie, who glared at him.

  “It’s not that.” Garrett looked at her, a brief shadow of longing in his eyes. “I’ve just got some mixed emotions.”

  Second thoughts? Would you come home if I asked? She gathered her courage, but the shadow vanished and he deliberately turned the conversation toward lighter subjects. The three went to the cafeteria for lunch. On the surface Garrett appeared relaxed, but she sensed a deep turmoil eating at him.

  Over the next few days, Garrett couldn’t focus. After spending just over half a year in hospitals, he craved wide-open spaces. But life on the outside held a set of unknowns that unnerved him. Maggie dealt with this all the time. It was her job to know the answers. Yet how could he ask without risking her developing an exaggerated sense of obligation toward him?

  “Are you looking forward to the furlough tomorrow?” she asked, beginning a deep massage of his back after a particularly tiring workout.

  As usual, his muscles constricted involuntarily beneath her hands. Sexual tension arced between them, hot and undeniable. He concentrated on the pain instead. “It ought to be interesting, a regular three-ring circus.”

  “With you as head clown?” she probed gently.

  Garrett tensed. Maggie was far too perceptive for his peace of mind. He rested his forehead on crossed arms and debated how candid to be. “I was thinking more along the lines of freak on display.” There. It was out.

  “Come on.” She tweaked the skin at the base of his neck. “At Blake’s? I wouldn’t put it past him to swipe a wheelchair from his office and challenge you to a street race.”

  His brother’s Oakland Hills neighborhood was known for its steep streets, and a mental picture formed of a suicide run down the winding road. Despite himself, he smiled. Maggie had a gift for chasing away gloom. He wondered how well he’d be able to survive without it in the difficult months ahead.

  Her next pass over his lower back felt more like a caress than a therapeutic attempt to ease overworked, knotted muscles, and brought far more erotic temptations to mind than his body was comfortable handling. At least I have the problem. Beats the alternative.

  “I think moving in with Blake is a great idea.”

  An odd note in her voice didn’t ring true, and his attention locked onto it. “What’s bothering you, babe?”

  She hesitated, and he waited her out. “Nothing.”

  “Liar.”

  Her breath puffed out in a chagrined laugh. “Okay,” she admitted tentatively. “I kind of hoped you’d come back home. I’ve gotten used to having you around again.”

  I knew talking about my problems was a mistake! Fool! Better stop this right now for her own good. He half turned on the table. Her expression was tortured, but he hardened himself against it. “You don’t owe me anything.”

  With an outward calm she couldn’t have been feeling under his calculated glare, she dried the lubricating oil from her hands on a towel. He sensed it was more of a mindless activity to give herself time to think rather than something she really needed to do. For a moment, he wished he were back in the coma. Back then, I didn’t have to guess what you felt. I knew.

  “You coming home feels right.” Her voice was none too steady.

  “Liar.” Garrett sighed. “What’s the real reason?”

  She looked away. “I love you. Isn’t that enough?”

  The need to wrap his arms around her nearly unmanned him. It would be so easy, so very easy to succumb to the cowardice. Common sense won out, barely. “Look, babe, you said it yourself. We loved each other before, and look what happened.” It came out softer than he’d intended. He needed to push her away once and for all. The conflict between what he knew was right and what he wanted tore him in two.

  “That was then,” she answered slowly. “A lot has changed.”

  “God, what an understatement,” he said with a snort. He maneuvered into a sitting position and carefully draped the sheet over his lap. The state of his hormones didn’t exactly lend credibility to the cold-blooded rejection he was trying to carry off.

  “You won’t even talk about it?”

  Her green eyes swam with vulnerability and hurt, and he hated himself for it. His mother’s whole life revolved around taking care of his father. He couldn‘t—wouldn’t—reduce Maggie’s life to the same. She deserved so much better and, unlike his mother, Maggie had a choice. “Coming home is not a good idea.”

  “Why?”

  Stop! He howled in soundless misery but plowed on. “How do you plan to handle Rick if it doesn’t work? I can see it now. He finally gets his head screwed on straight. Then I move out again. He’ll take that as another desertion.”

  Her gaze became piercing, and she tossed the towel into a laundry hamper. “What’s eating you, Garrett?”

  You! I love you more than my own life. But I won’t let you harness yourself to endless years of virtual slavery.

  “Are you going to answer me?”

  “Nothing more to say.” His decision was right. She’d sacrifice her happiness for him. He couldn’t live with that. He forced a gentle smile. “Thanks for the offer, but no thanks.”

  She frowned suspiciously at him. “What are you trying to pull? You’re wearing your testosterone-knows-best face.”

  The barb startled him, and he nearly smiled. “Stop imagining things.” The note of censure sounded harsher than he’d intended, and he fought the impulse to apologize.

  “Imagining?” she challenged. “Not likely.”

  Frustration lit a short fuse on his temper. “Maggie, I appreciate the offer,” he ground out, “but we’re not married anymore. Your suggestion is awkward enough without you pushing it. Now, drop it.” He swore he felt her flinch under each blow, but it was better to hurt her cleanly and be done with it.

  Maggie stepped away and put her hands on her hips. “Fine. I haven’t thrown myself at you since I was a kid. Sorry for the lapse.” Her voice cracked on the last, spoiling the effect.

  Forgive me, babe, he pleaded silently. This way is best. Trust me—just once more.

  She grabbed the bottle of oil and squirted a generous amount onto her hand. “Now roll back over so we can finish this. I’ve got a tight schedule today.”

  Chapter 7

  Sunlight streamed into the Mercedes convertible as Blake negotiated the twisting turns of his Oakland Hills neighborhood, and Garrett drank in the fresh air as if he could never get enough. For the first time since the crash, he felt alive, every muscle alert. The confines of RPI had been left behind, even if only for a few hours.

  “Once the settlement from the airline comes in I plan to get one of those special vans.”

  Blake chuckled. “Want to burn up a little road?”

  “Something like that. Staring at the same four walls month after month really got to me.”

  Blake’s expression transmuted into something twenty years younger and decidedly reckless. “No reason we can’t do a little burning now. Speed limit optional?”

  Garrett’s craving for raw motion warred with twenty years of ingrained law enforcement. It was a short war. “Do it.”

  Blake flipped a U-turn in the middle of the block. A couple of freeway changes later, the Mercedes sp
ed north up the coast. Wind blasted Garrett’s face and hair, and adrenaline roared through his veins. The morning slipped by, and they laughed over childhood stunts. By the time they got back to Blake’s, it was just after one o’clock, and he was more tired than he cared to admit. They pulled into the driveway behind their parents’ Oldsmobile, a caterer’s van and a beat-up, rusted green Chevy.

  “Are clunkers a new hobby, little brother?” he quipped.

  “The rolling wreck belongs to your son,” Blake chortled. “Looks almost as bad as that thing Dad bought us.”

  Cold shock iced Garrett’s veins. He opened his mouth to demand what Rick was doing here, but it was a little obvious. This was a family thing, and the family had been called together.

  Faith swept out onto the front porch of the elegant threestory Victorian-style home, her ivory complexion suffused with pleasure. As usual, her makeup and shoulder-length blond hair looked as if she’d stepped from a fashion magazine. A wrinkle wouldn’t dare show itself on her designer clothing or on her face.

  “Welcome home.” She offered Garrett a brotherly kiss on his cheek, but the look she cast Blake was barely suppressed lust. Even after fourteen years of marriage those two still lit sparks off each other. “I expected you hours ago. Did you get lost?”

  Blake grabbed his wife around the waist, swept her over backward and planted a kiss on her that was only half-theatrical in intensity. Garrett tactfully looked away and worked the wheelchair from the back seat. “I’m going inside so you two can neck in peace.”

  Faith crimsoned, and Blake laughed. Then Garrett wheeled himself into the house. The flawlessly decorated living room had always struck him as sterile, pretentious and cold. Besides, he hated beige, He much preferred the casual comfort of Maggie’s tastes. The warm green and gold living room had been a place for friends to drop by and relax, a welcoming haven at the end of a long shift. But it wasn’t home to him anymore, and comparisons were pointless, not to mention painful.

  “I assumed you’d like some fresh air, so everyone is outside,” Faith explained from behind him, trying to talk around Blake nibbling at her neck.