by Goode, A. J.
“May I be perfectly honest with you for a moment?” Jacqueline went on, after a moment. “Ethan is a nice man. Too nice for his own good, really. He’s only known you for a few weeks, and he’s already willing to go into debt and possibly lose his grandmother’s house, all because he feels sorry for you. You think that you care for him, too, but Tara, if you really love him, why would you let him do that?”
“But I don’t –“
“Doesn’t he deserve better than a lifetime of looking after you? Always dealing with pain, always running to doctors and struggling with physical therapy, always a burden. Don’t you love him enough to want a better future for him?”
“A burden.”
Jacqueline patted her hand one last time and turned to go. “I can see I’ve given you something to think about,” she said smoothly. “I’ll leave you to mull it over. But you will be a dear and give him my message, won’t you?”
A burden. She was a burden. Ethan felt obligated to take care of her. He had put his entire financial future in jeopardy because of her.
The door opened again, and Ethan gave her a puzzled look. “Are you all right?” He asked. “You look cold.”
“I’m not cold. I just want to go home.”
Chapter Seventeen
“Tara, what happened while I was gone?”
“Just let me back inside. I want to get out of here.” Tara tried to step around him, but he sidestepped to block the door.
“Did someone say something to you? Tara, please –“ Ethan thought back over the past few minutes, trying to figure out what he could have missed. He had gone out front to make arrangements to have the Expedition brought around, and had stopped to chitchat with a few people on the way back, but he really hadn’t been gone all that long, had he?
There had been one bad moment when he saw Jacqueline striding across the room toward him, but she had merely tossed him a triumphant grin and moved on without speaking. I should have known she’d be at an affair like this, he thought. She’d never miss an opportunity to network.
Now, an icy dread settled in the pit of his stomach as he wondered about that look on his ex-wife’s face. She was cold-hearted and greedy, he knew, but was she cruel enough to have said something to hurt Tara?
“Did Jacqueline come out here?” he demanded. “What did she say to you?”
Tara flinched, and the pain in her eyes hit him like a physical blow. “She said your loan has been approved. You have everything you need to buy out my half of the house.”
“Wait. I can explain –“
“No, you don’t have to explain, Ethan. I understand more than you think.”
“You can’t listen to her. Don’t let her get inside your head with all of her lies!”
“Was she lying about the loan?” Tara demanded.
“Well, no, but –“
“So she was telling the truth? You applied for a loan to buy out my half of the house? Without asking me if that’s what I wanted?”
It seemed like a good idea at the time, he wanted to shout. “It’s not what it looks like,” he said instead.
“Oh, really? So tell me, when did you apply for the loan, Ethan? Before we slept together, or after?” She didn’t wait for an answer before shoving her way past him and storming back into the party.
Ethan followed her, dimly aware of the looks they were getting. She was moving faster than he had thought her capable of, fast enough that he was having a hard time keeping up with her without breaking into a run. With her mussed hair, wrinkled dress and flushed cheeks, she was getting a fair share of sympathetic glances while the looks cast his way were far more accusatory.
“Sir, let’s step into the next room.” A large man in a dark suit stepped in front of Ethan, blocking his way.
“It’s all right, we came here together,” Ethan told him.
“And you’re leaving separately.”
“Tara!” Ethan shouted.
“Don’t make a scene, Sir.”
Ethan peered around the big man, following Tara with his eyes. She had made it to the exit, where she was speaking to a small cluster of people. He couldn’t hear her voice, but she kept shaking her head. Finally, an older woman detached herself from the crowd and made her way to Ethan and his self-appointed security guard.
“The young lady would like us to call her a cab,” the woman murmured when she reached them. “She says she doesn’t wish to call the police.”
“Police? Oh, come on—“
The large man—whom Ethan finally realized really was part of Event Security – shook his head. “Sir, please calm down. I don’t want to call in the police, but I will do so if you continue to create a disturbance. Your choice.”
Ethan considered his options. He needed to explain things to Tara, but he also realized that she was in no mood to listen to anything he might say. Fighting to follow her right now would only make the situation worse. He would give her enough time to get home and cool off a little bit, and then they would be able to have a calm, rational discussion.
He held up his hands to show the security guard that he was backing down. The man ushered him into the kitchen and offered him a cup of coffee.
“I’m not drunk,” Ethan assured him. “I don’t need coffee.”
“I know. But it’s a good way to make sure you stay here until she’s gone.”
Ethan acquiesced, choking down a cup of strong black coffee and then bolting for the door. He debated stopping for flowers or some other kind of apology gift, but decided against it.
But she wasn’t at the Seashell when he arrived there. He waited. Maybe the taxi driver took the long way so he could jack up the fare. Maybe the bridge was open and they got stuck waiting in traffic. Maybe . . . maybe she’s not coming back.
* * *
By Monday morning, he had gone from apologetic to angry, although he couldn’t have answered if anyone had asked him whether he was angrier at Tara or at himself. It didn’t help matters that Melissa gave him the silent treatment at school and Dan just shook his head sadly every time they passed in the hallways. Even his buddy Sean seemed to take Tara’s side when Ethan told him what had happened.
“You’re an idiot,” Sean told him.
“Yeah, you’ve already said that.”
“Some things need to be repeated.”
Ethan sighed. He had gone to Sean’s house to return the borrowed tuxedo, fully expecting to get sympathy from his old friend. Instead, he was raking leaves and listening to the other man’s opinions.
“If she would just let me explain—“
“Explain what? That you listened to your manipulative, evil ex-wife and snuck around behind Tara’s back to trick her out of the only thing she owns?”
“I wasn’t trying to trick anybody! I just didn’t want to lose the house to her creditors. You’re supposed to be on my side here, Sean.
Sean shook his head. “I’m sorry, Pal, but I can’t. You’re an idiot. How did you think she would react?”
Ethan said nothing. He held the bag open while Sean scooped up armloads of leaves. They worked in silence until the leaves had all been bagged up and tied off.
“So . . . what happens now?” His friend asked as they dragged the bags to the curb.
“I have no idea. I guess I have to find someone to draw up the sales agreement and finalize everything on the house. Hey, no leaves to rake over there. Just lots of wet sand to shovel.”
“So you’re giving up on Tara?”
Ethan shrugged. “What’s to give up? It was a bad idea. Grandma should never have asked me to share the house with a stranger.”
“’Share the house’. Because that’s all Bea had in mind.”
“Shut up.”
“You’re still an idiot.”
“So you said.”
Sean punched him lightly on the shoulder. “You sure she was just a roommate? You seemed pretty happy when you were with her. I thought maybe—“
“You thought wrong.”
<
br /> “So you wouldn’t mind if I ask Tara out?”
Ethan tried to block the sudden mental pictures of his best friend with the curvy redhead. Of course I mind! His brain shouted but instead he merely shrugged.
Sean snorted. “Call her, Idiot.”
The radio attached to his belt let out a high pitched, two-tone beep. Both men waited for the dispatcher’s voice: “Fully involved structure fire, 34987 Seventy-Second Street. Residents still inside the home.”
Sean broke into a run toward his truck, already speaking into the radio as he went. “Beach Haven One-oh-eight clear on the call. En route direct.” He waved at Ethan as he roared out of the driveway, flipping on the lights and siren on his truck as he went.
Ethan shook his head and started gathering up the rakes. Sean loved being a firefighter, and he was so focused on getting on-scene quickly that he often drove away and left his own home unprotected, the door standing wide open. Ethan was surprised that his friend still had a home to return to after some of the fire calls he went on.
He put the rakes and extra yard bags in the shed and let himself back into the other man’s home. He didn’t think Sean would mind if he took a few minutes to get cleaned up from all of that yard work. In fact, maybe Sean wouldn’t mind if he made himself a sandwich and helped himself to a can of cola and maybe even watched a little bit of TV–
After a while, Ethan admitted to himself that he was procrastinating. He was finding reasons to stay because he just didn’t want to go back to the Seashell alone. Tara’s pillow still smelled of roses; her floral robe still hung on the hook in his bathroom. Everywhere he went in the house; there was something to remind him of her.
Regardless of what he had said to Sean, she had been more than a roommate. More than a friend, he realized. He had really begun to care for the woman his grandmother had tried so hard to fix him up with.
He sank back into the leather armchair in his friend’s living room and tried not to think about her. About how good she felt in his arms, or about the way she raised her chin in defiance when she thought anyone was feeling sorry for her. He definitely didn’t want to think about the way she moved when they were together in bed, or the way she looked in the morning when she was naked in his bed with her hair splayed out on the pillow and her lips curving in a slow, sleepy smile.
The doorbell rang, startling him. He glanced at the window, surprised to see that it had grown dark outside while he sat there not thinking about Tara.
He was even more surprised when he opened the door and saw her standing on the porch.
“You didn’t answer your phone,” she told him.
“I must have turned off the ringer,” he said.
“They’ve been trying to reach you. Sean’s mom thought you might be here.”
“Who’s been trying to reach me? Why did you talk to Sean’s mom?” And then, in that instant, he knew. Even before he took in Tara’s tear-streaked face and reddened eyes. He knew.
“The roof collapsed,” she told him. It dawned on him that she was holding both of his hands but he had no idea just when she had taken them. “Three firefighters were trapped. They’ve been taken to the hospital, but –“
“Sean?”
She nodded.
Chapter Eighteen
Sean’s mother was in the hospital waiting room when Tara and Ethan arrived. There was no time for introductions or shyness; she pulled Tara into a hug right along with Ethan.
“Suzanne, how is he?” Ethan asked.
“I don’t know anything yet,” Sean’s mother told him. She was tall and dark-haired like her son, and Tara noticed deep laugh-lines around her mouth; it was easy to imagine the woman smiling or laughing just as easily as he did. “They took all three men back and refused to let any family members go with them. I just don’t—I don’t even know if he’s—I don’t—“
“Shh.” Ethan wrapped his arms around her.
“Can I get you a cup of coffee or something? A soda?” Tara offered.
Suzanne Jackson pulled away from Ethan, shaking her head. She gestured toward the other people clustered around the waiting room and singled out a middle-aged man in a yellow turn-out coat. “That’s the Fire Chief,” she told them. “And most of these people are family members of the other two men. He’s been running back and forth taking care of all of us while we wait. Believe me, I’ve had enough offers of coffee and Pepsi to last me a lifetime.”
“Did he tell you what happened?”
“He said that the roof collapsed while the firefighters were inside the home looking for the family they thought was trapped in there. It took a few minutes to get to the men afterwards and by then . . .”
“What about the family?” Ethan asked as her voice trailed off.
She shook her head again. “Turns out they weren’t in the house at all. They weren’t even home.”
A man in scrubs came out and spoke quietly to the Chief, who bowed his head and then led him to a family on the other side of the room. A wail rang out.
“Mikey,” Suzanne whispered. “That’s Mikey Garcia’s wife.”
Tara clutched Ethan’s hand, but she doubted if he was even aware of her presence any more. He kept his other arm firmly around Suzanne’s shoulders and looked everywhere but at the grief-stricken family. He was breathing heavily.
It seemed as though they waited there for hours, but in reality only a few minutes passed before the Chief headed their way with another doctor. “Suzanne,” he began, his voice gentle.
“Is my son alive?” She demanded.
The doctor nodded. “Sean suffered a serious head injury and smoke inhalation,” he told them. “He needs some help with his breathing right now, and he’s very disoriented. But he did regain consciousness for a short time. He’s –“
“Can I see him?”
“Of course.”
Tara hung back and let Suzanne and Ethan go on without her. They didn’t seem to notice, and she wondered if she should wait here or go back to her hotel room; one thought of that quiet, impersonal space made up her mind for her, and she sat down. Better alone here than alone there, she decided.
The days away from Ethan had been torture. Being with him tonight felt so good, despite their concerns over Sean. She had missed the way he smelled, the warmth of his arms around her, the sound of his voice when he murmured in her ear. She wanted nothing more than to sink into his embrace and tell him how she felt. She ached to say that she loved him.
A burden.
Jacqueline’s words kept running through her mind in an endless loop. She was a burden.
She could forgive Ethan for the business with the loan. Hell, she couldn’t blame him for looking into all of his options. She could even understand his secrecy on the matter.
But Ethan was a young man who deserved better than a lifetime of taking care of her. He deserved someone healthy. Someone who wouldn’t doom him to a future of doctor appointments and pain medications and physical therapy. Someone whole.
Someone who wasn’t Tara.
She had asked Melissa to drive her out to the Seashell that night to retrieve her belongings, hoping to avoid seeing Ethan and yet feeling disappointed when she found the house empty. It took just a few minutes to gather up her two suitcases, and few more to hesitate over Bea’s jewelry box. Technically, half of the jewelry belonged to her, but she didn’t want to take anything that held any special meaning for Ethan.
The house phone had begun ringing while she argued with herself over the jewelry. It was Suzanne, Sean’s mother, looking for Ethan because Sean had been hurt; all thoughts of jewelry and wills and even Bea Ahrend were replaced with just one thought: Find Ethan.
Now that she had found him and they knew Sean was alive, she needed time to strengthen her resolve. Those moments in Ethan’s presence had left her hungry for more time with him.
She stood up again and stretched. The chair was uncomfortable and her neck ached from sitting there too long. As Jacqueline had reminded her,
she was going to be dealing with pain for the rest of her life. Special chairs, pain medications, a constant need to rest . . . mentally, she ticked off items on her ever-growing list of her needs now that her life had changed so drastically.
“Tara?”
Ethan was suddenly there beside her. She hadn’t heard him walking back out to the waiting room.
“Is something wrong?” She asked.
“He’s resting. Suzanne needed some time alone with him.”
She breathed a sigh of relief. “What about you, Ethan? Are you all right?”
“Still worried about him. I won’t be all right until I see him open his eyes.” Ethan rested his hands on her shoulders and turned her to face him. “I’ve missed you.”
“Don’t—“
“Don’t what? Tara, I’m sorry for everything. I screwed up. Please come home.”
Home. Tara drew a shuddering breath and closed her eyes against a wave of emotion. “I . . . can’t. I’m sorry.”
“You can’t forgive me?”
“It’s not that,” she told him. “It would be different if we had met a year ago, or even six months ago. If only we had met before my accident.”
“You’re getting better. I’ll be there with you every step of the way. I’ll help you.”
“No.” You deserve better. You deserve someone you don’t have to help and care of. You deserve a woman who can give something back to you instead of always needing something.
“’No’? That’s it? Just ‘no’?”
“I’m sorry.” She went up on tiptoe and brushed her lips across his cheek. “Give Sean a hug from me when he wakes up.”
“Tara, I don’t know what you want me to say here.”
“Good-bye, Ethan.”
Chapter Nineteen
After Sean was released from the hospital, Ethan got into the habit of dropping by his house after work every night. The firefighter recovered quickly from his close call, but he struggled with headaches for the first few days, which left Ethan feeling some concern for his old friend. Later, after the headaches had passed, he found that it was just easier to visit Sean than to go home to the empty Seashell every evening.