by CC MacKenzie
"I want you here, lying next to me. Naked."
His deep voice, the accent, the bossy tone, everything combined, had her fall into his arms.
Where she belonged.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Hands shoved into the pockets of his jeans, Sean stared unseeing out of the window of the hospital waiting room and into the night. The too loud tick of the wall clock was driving him mental. The hot rock in his throat matched the one squeezing his lungs. And, fuck it, his vision blurred. His unborn child was no more, and his woman was still in the operating theatre with an internal bleed.
Ana, Danni and their significant others were huddled together and speaking in hushed tones and Sean wanted to scream for them to just shut-the-fuck-up with all the what-ifs and if-onlys. Who gave a shit why bad things happened? They just did.
Pete materialized at his side. "Hey, wanna a cup of the sludge they call coffee?"
Sean didn't.
But he accepted a plastic cup the color of sand, studied the liquid and took a sip.
He didn't wince with the way his teeth ached, but it was close. "How many sugars did you put in this stuff?"
"Four. You've had nothing to eat. You need the sugar hit." Pete's sigh was sad and weary. "I know this is no consolation, but the police have arrested the boys. They're sixteen and keep repeating that they're sorry. They've admitted running her down."
Regret and guilt punched Sean hard. "I wasn't paying attention to our surroundings. I should have..."
Pete placed a heavy hand on his shoulder and gripped tight.
His strong fingers squeezed. "We both know accidents happen."
"Yeah. I can't stand not knowing what's happening, what they're doing to her."
"The docs are the experts. They're doing their best, Sean."
When a tall doctor dressed in blue scrubs shouldered through the doors, everyone stood.
"Sean Kennedy?"
Heart going crazy against his ribs, Sean lifted his hand.
Sharp brown eyes met his. "She's doing well. We've stopped the bleed. We see no reason why she shouldn't go on to have another baby. She's still in recovery, but once she's moved to a private room, you can see her."
Sean shook his hand. "Thank you for everything you've done."
He turned to find Ana and Danni at his elbow. "You go to her, Sean. We'll come back later."
He accepted their hard hugs.
Before she left, Ana turned to him. "And Sean? She'll shut down. Don't let her push you away."
He nodded. "I hear you."
***
T.C. looked up at him with devastated eyes.
"She's gone," she whispered.
"Oh, sweetheart. I'm sorry. I'm so, so, sorry."
Sean's eyes blurred as he bent over the hospital bed to hold her close.
With three sisters, he was used to a woman's tears.
But he'd never heard a heart break in real time.
Not like this.
After the longest thirty minutes of his life there was still no let up to the way great heaving sobs shook her body.
A middle-aged staff nurse entered to study the scene with narrowed eyes and then left.
She returned a couple of minutes later with medication she inserted into the IV in the back of T.C.'s hand. It didn't take long for the drug to take effect and her eyes closed.
Even in sleep tears trickled down her cheeks.
"Where's her mother?" the nurse barked.
"They're estranged."
"Hmm. So you're all she has?"
The way the question was asked, as if Sean wasn't enough, put his back up. "I'm more than enough," he growled.
His don't mess with me tone had her mouth twitch and something like respect entered her eyes. "The loss of a longed for baby, especially in these circumstances, may cause depression. Her hormones are all over the place too and it may take a number of weeks for her to feel like herself again. The key is patience and plenty of TLC. Think you can manage that?"
"Yes."
"Glad to hear it." Again she studied T.C.'s face. "There's something else going on here. I've been in this job over twenty years and I've seen it all. But that girl's breakdown is more than the loss of a baby."
Sean nodded. "I know. I think it has something to do with losing her brother when she was a child."
"Hmm. I'll give you the name of a good therapist who specializes in bereavement counselling. Might be a good time to give her a ring."
Two hours later, Sean had the therapist's telephone number tucked safely in his wallet.
T.C. was due to go home later today and he'd be right there with her, whether she wanted him or not.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
"Are you hungry? Fancy a cup of tea?" Sean asked her in a patient tone that was slowly driving her crazy. At the moment, she was too tired to care.
T.C. just stared unseeing out of the open folding doors to the sky beyond.
The day was a mix of sunshine and cloud.
She inhaled the scent of tea-roses she'd planted in huge terracotta pots and realized it was true that no matter what happened in life the world went on.
"I don't understand why you're still here," she murmured.
The next thing she knew strong hands lifted her from the bed and she was on her feet on the carpet.
He bent his head to study her face.
Tawny eyes blazed into hers with enough anger to make her blink in shock.
She'd gone so white, he thought she was about to pass out.
"What do you want from me?" she whispered.
The dull sheen of defeat in her eyes snapped his patience.
Sean grabbed her shoulders and shook her until her teeth rattled.
"Don't you understand? I love you, you hardass."
She closed her hands over his wrists to hold him away from her and something in her expression made him go utterly still.
He released her.
All he could hear was his own ragged breathing.
All he could see was that broken thing in her eyes.
The raw pain there was laid bare and had him reach out to her.
She shook her head.
"The facts of my life, my past, are undisputed. I am the origin of all my family's misery. I am the cross upon which all our pain is nailed. It doesn't matter how much time passes, we still bleed from the wounds I inflicted in a single moment of supreme selfishness." Her gaze met his. "I knew when I admitted to myself I had feelings for you—I knew something bad would happen. Please don't waste your love on someone like me. I don't deserve it."
Sean felt as if he was having an out of body experience.
T.C., his T.C., truly believed every single word she said.
He couldn't think straight, even when she swiped a stray tear from her face and scowled at him.
God, he loved that scowl.
Sean couldn't think of a single reason why she could possibly believe she didn't deserve love.
What the hell had happened to her?
"That is the craziest thing I've ever heard," he said sharply now. "Everyone loves you. Ana loves you. Danni loves you. Millions of people love you every single day."
"It's not the same thing."
"I don't understand why you believe your family—"
The way she flinched, as if he'd raised his hand to strike her down, stopped him in his tracks.
"My family hate me. They wish I'd never been born."
He shook his head. "I do not believe it."
"No, you probably don't. But it's true. They told me when I was twelve."
His gaze searched hers and he saw the truth. "When you were twelve your parents told you they didn't love you?"
"She said... she, they, didn't care about me one way or the other. Not caring is so much worse than not loving a child, don't you think? And this thing between us, I knew it wouldn't last because it wasn't really what you wanted, was it? You wanted the baby. And now the baby's dead. It's cosmic justice. A life for a
life. An eye-for-an-eye, etcetera."
"What life? What justice? I don't understand a word you've said."
Her smile was so terribly sad it broke his heart in two.
"I know you don't. Move on, Sean. There's nothing here for you, nothing left to see here."
"I'm not leaving." He stood his ground as she moved to the door, held it open.
"Goodbye, Sean."
He opened his mouth to speak, then studied how pale she looked, how beaten down, thin and fragile—not a word he'd ever thought to apply to Theresa Catliff.
She'd lost their baby.
They'd lost their baby, he corrected.
And the girl needed space.
And he needed answers, and he knew exactly where to get them.
***
"Hang on, Sean," Olivier said as he closed the door of his apartment. "You cannot storm in here and make demands."
Sean had thought long and hard about how he was going to approach not only Ana, but T.C.'s parents. However, when Olivier had opened the door, Sean had taken one look at him and his words had come out as nothing more than a growl.
Olivier had every right to stare at him as if he'd lost him mind.
Sean took a breath, nodded, held up his hands in the universal gesture of I-come-in-peace.
Before he could speak, Ana padded across the wide entrance hall on bare feet.
"What's the matter?"
Olivier herded everyone onto their balcony to sit at a round table.
Sean ran a hand through his hair, down the back of his neck and his gaze held Ana's.
"I need your help."
She bit her lip. "Okay."
"Is it true that when she was twelve, Theresa's parents, her mother, told her that not only did she not love her but that she didn't care about her?"
Olivier's eyes popped, and Sean didn't blame him.
"Yes."
Sean blinked. "Why?"
"Because they blame her for the death of her little brother."
Sean frowned. "That's what she meant by an eye-for-an-eye," he murmured to himself. He gave Ana a hard look. "She was twelve. Where were her parents?"
"Swanning around the Cote d'Azur. Little Harry and T.C. were on a Greek island being cared for by her grandfather."
"So where was her grandfather?"
"Having a siesta. T.C. knew she wasn't permitted on the beach, and definitely not in the sea, without adult supervision. But it was a hot day. She decided to hell with it and snuck out. She didn't know Harry had followed her. The family had a pontoon anchored about ten yards from the beach. She swam and reached it without a problem. But Harry..."
"He drowned," Sean finished her sentence.
Ana nodded. "She never knew he was in the water. They found him the next morning. And of course, her parents dumped the blame and their guilt on the shoulders of a little girl."
Sean rose to pace, to think.
"What about her grandfather?"
"He loved T.C. and Harry. When he died, his whole estate passed to T.C. Blood money, she called it. And of course, her parents did everything they could to take it from her, too. She had excellent lawyers who saw to it that her grandfather's will was watertight. However, the split from her parents, even if they are crap, has taken its toll. T.C.'s not stupid, Sean. She understands her feelings of doing a lifelong penance for one mistake and believing that she needs to 'pay' for that mistake again and again, makes no sense. But her mother's words that day tore the heart and spirit from her. Danni and I always spend the 22nd of August with her. This year, we got caught up in our own lives and I cannot tell you how bad we feel about that."
Sean shook his head. "Today, she told me she doesn't deserve love." His gaze held Ana's. "And she meant every single word of it."
"I had no knowledge of this," Olivier said in an awed voice.
Ana patted his hand. "Yeah, well, not every family is as loving and normal as yours." She turned to Sean. "What are you going to do?"
"Visit her parents."
Ana's black brows rose. "I wouldn't do that if I were you, Sean. She won't want them near her when she's raw and hurting."
"Do you seriously think I'd let them within a mile of her at the moment?"
"Then why?" a confused looking Ana asked.
"For them to do the right thing and to show forgiveness and the milk of human kindness to a little girl who received neither when she most needed it."
After Sean left, Olivier pulled a teary-eyed Ana on his lap and held her close.
"Do you think that will be enough to help her?" he asked.
"I dunno. But at least it's a start."
Olivier pressed a kiss to the shoulder bared by her sleeveless T-shirt. "I have good news I think may cheer you up."
She turned to him, her heart in her eyes. "What news?"
"I am due to sign a five-year contract for United."
She didn't even blink. "You kept that quiet."
"My agent and the club have gone to great lengths to keep it a secret." His eyes narrowed. "Why are you not surprised and bouncing with excitement."
Ana had long ago decided never to keep secrets between them.
Secrets in a relationship bred mistrust and little lies and pain.
"Your mother let the cat out of the bag at our engagement party."
Olivier looked to heaven. "She did not know which club and I told her to say nothing."
Ana poked him in the chest. "Why did your mother know before me?"
"Because I wanted to give her plenty of warning to get used to the idea."
"She's not pleased you're moving from Italy," Ana guessed.
He shrugged. "I go where I want to go. The time was right for a change. Plus, I need to be near you, to see you each day, to sleep with you each night."
She wrapped her arms around his neck and planted a soft kiss on his very kissable mouth.
"Tell the truth. You told her about the baby, didn't you?" she asked in a soft voice, her eyes steady on his.
"Nearly. But I did not because I respect your wishes and excellent reasoning to keep it quiet."
She rested her forehead on his. "If you tell her and she tells your sisters and they tell their friends and the tabloids get hold of it—I will pin your golden balls to the wall with my stiletto heel."
He paled, but rallied fast. "Is that any way to speak to the love of your life, to the father of our son?"
"Let me put it this way. If you tell your mother I am pregnant, it will be the last son you will ever father. Trust me."
And with that she slid off his lap and marched out the door, her hips swinging.
Was it bad of him that when she was a tough girl, it totally turned him on?
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
T.C. stayed in bed for three interminable days.
She felt half-alive.
Surely, oblivion would be easier than breathing.
The pain of loss was an old friend, one that had tried to kill her twice before.
Perhaps it would be third time lucky and she'd die of a broken heart.
But a person didn't die of pain or hurt.
She'd feel better tomorrow, she told herself fiercely, the way she had when she'd been a young girl and finally realized that her parents cared nothing for her. The way she had after the nights of meaningless sex with strangers, where she'd done the walking away.
The way she had after losing her baby, after telling Sean to leave her in peace.
And if the next day and the next and the next were not better at all, then so be it.
As far as T.C. was concerned living life was all about waiting for pain to subside, even it meant holding on to life with her fingernails. Until a non-terrible day came, no matter how long it took to arrive.
She'd left strict instructions with the concierge—do not disturb.
She ignored all voicemails, all calls.
She couldn't eat.
She couldn't sleep.
She couldn't stop the pain of loss.
She wanted her baby back.
CHAPTER THIRTY
Laden with bags of food, Sean, Ana and Danni entered T.C.'s apartment to stage an intervention.
It hadn't been difficult to get past Edie once he'd explained why everyone was worried sick.
The curtains were closed and the air smelled stale.
Her hospital bag sat where he'd left it.
The place was quiet.
Too quiet.
"I'll open the windows and make something to eat," he decided.
Ana nodded. "I'll wake her up."
Danni shoved up the sleeves of her T-shirt. "And I'll run a bath."
***
"How many times do I need to say it—I do not need a shrink."
Wearing skinny blue jeans and an ancient grey hoodie, Ana stood, legs spread, fists on her hips as she beaned her best friend with a black look.
"It's been three days, T.C. and you haven't even washed your hair."
"So the fuck what? It's my hair. It's my bed. It's my room in my fucking flat."
"That's two F-bombs. I'm gonna tell Sean."
Ana was well aware that statement would certainly pour petrol on the fire of her temper.
Sure enough, T.C.'s blue eyes flashed. "And he can fuck off, too!" she yelled at the top of her voice.
Ana reckoned T.C. shouting and going all looney bitch on her was much better than the stubborn silences they'd all been treated to over the last three days.
T.C. wanted to be left alone and Sean and Ana and Danni were determined that was not going to happen. Typically, T.C. had shut down and refused to come out of her bedroom.
Poor Sean was at his wit's end and Ana had decided enough was enough.
"You have a man out there who loves you and who's worried sick about you."
T.C. shot her a who-gives-a-flying-fuck look. "I don't do love. You know that."
"Bullshit."