These Ties That Bind. Mary Sullivan
“Nice to see you care.” For once, he didn’t sound sarcastic. “You tie me in knots so often, can be so critical, I’m never sure if we’re still friends.”
She’d been careful to look only at his injuries, but now she met his gaze and couldn’t hide what she felt, as impossible and self-defeating as it was.
CHAPTER THREE
REM COULDN’T BELIEVE the longing he saw on Sara’s face. He understood the emotion, had felt it too often for her, but they could have been acting on it for the past year. They could have been married and loving each other every day and night.
Her longing angered him. “Uh-uh, Sara. You don’t get to look at me like that.”
“Like what?”
“As though you want me. Nothing’s going to happen between us. That ship has sailed, sweetheart, and it ain’t ever coming back.”
Her fingers flinched within his grasp.
“Why are you back in Ordinary?” he asked. “Why didn’t you stay in Bozeman? You had a good job there.”
“Mama’s here. Timm and Angel are here and soon their new baby. I wanted to be with my family.”
Hmm. Maybe. “What aren’t you telling me?”
She pressed her lips together as though she wouldn’t answer but finally did. “Finn was hanging out with kids I didn’t like and getting wild. They got into trouble with the police. It scared me. I thought it would be good for him to be with family.”
It sounded plausible enough, but still not like the full story. He’d leave it for now. He had more important fish to fry. “I’m Finn’s family.”
She jerked to attention, the longing gone like last Sunday’s dinner, and tugged her hands out of his grasp. She opened his fists to tend to his palms in her usual no-nonsense way, the vulnerable woman vanishing behind her professional facade.
Damn your self-control to hell, Sara.
Time to hit her with the decision he’d made.
He’d spent the past seven years turning his life around, righting so many of the wrongs he’d committed before his father’s death had given him a rude wake-up call. Rem had made the decision to straighten out, but he wasn’t finished making amends yet. His father had been a great role model. It was time for Rem to be the same for his son. He’d hurt people. He wanted that to stop. Here. Now. Today. Starting with the most important people in his life.
“I want to get to know him.”
“Who?” Sara asked, turning away so he couldn’t see her expression.
“Santa Claus,” he snapped. “Who do you think? Finn.”
She spun back to him. “No. We had an agreement.”
“That agreement is almost twelve years old. I’ve paid my dues since then.”
“I don’t care. We agreed. You promised you’d never go back on your decision.”
“It was the wrong decision. I’m old enough and strong enough to see that now.”
“I don’t care.”
“Does he ever ask about his father?”
Sara flinched. Bingo.
He changed his tactic, knew what would work in convincing her.
“Ma had another stroke.” A week ago. It was her third stroke in a year and a half and the worst yet. How much longer would he have her around? He needed to set so many things right.
“I know,” Sara answered. “I’ve been visiting her.”
Of course she had, because underneath all of her stubborn grittiness Sara was a caring person.
“So why shouldn’t she get to know her grandson before she dies? What if the next stroke kills her?” His voice rose. “Finn’s my son.”
“Be quiet,” Sara warned. “We’re not private here.”
“So what? It wouldn’t kill either of us if people found out.”
She leaned close and pointed a finger in his face. “You were the one who decided not to be in his life, that you weren’t father material. The fact that you wanted out so quickly proved you were right. You’d make a terrible father.”
“I was young and stupid. I was scared. I thought Finn would be better off without me.” He stood, loomed over her and lowered his voice, infusing it with a dark intensity because she had to understand how serious he was. “That’s no longer true. I think I’d be a good father now. That boy needs one. And I need my son.”
She refused to make eye contact even though he stood mere inches from her. Instead, she stared at his collarbone.
“You agreed to the deal pretty damn quickly,” he accused. “You didn’t want me to acknowledge Finn, either.”
Her chest rose and fell too rapidly. He knew Sara through and through and, although she looked calm, he could tell she was scared. He didn’t blame her. This was new territory for him, too.
“I’ve come to terms with who I am, with the mistake I made burning Timm, with all of the mistakes I made in my crazy adolescence. I can’t take back what I’ve done, Sara, but I’m moving on. I’ve proven that I’m a responsible man.”
She hadn’t been around to witness his change, but he had changed, and she was going to have to trust him.
She still wouldn’t look at him, but said, “Fine, so you’ve come to terms with your guilt.”
Guilt. Of course she would use a word that loaded.
“It was a child’s mistake, Sara. I’ve finally accepted it. Someday, you’re going to have to let it go, too.”
“I know you were a child and I’ve tried to come to terms with it, Rem. I truly have. But it was a huge mistake with consequences that still affect us to this day.”
“Yes. I know. But it’s done. Nothing can be taken back.”
Finally, she looked at him, uncertainty in those steel-gray eyes. “If something goes wrong again, how do you know you won’t end up bingeing like last summer?”
“I don’t, but I do know that I spend ninety percent of my days being a good person. If I slip, I slip. Big deal. I’m human.”
He wanted to tell her how human she was, too; but that truth was one she had to come to on her own.
“If I slipped up,” he continued, “Finn could handle it.”
“He could handle it only because I raised him well.” She tried to push him away, but he was too strong.
Rem watched Sara control the heat that flared between them.
He stepped back.
“You’ve done a fine job of raising Finn. He’s a great kid.” Rem was ready to stop thinking of Finn as Sara’s son and to start accepting him as his own.
“Get used to this, Sara, ’cause I’m not backing down. You’re not going to win this fight.”
Something more flared in her eyes, something beneath the anger she wore like a badge. He thought it might be fear. He wracked his brain for a way to convince her that he was serious about changing, about becoming stronger, and that everything would work out fine, and he hit on one thing.
“Since the day Finn was born, I’ve been helping to support him, starting with your hospital bills when he was born. Every month without fail, I’ve sent you money for him. In twelve years, I didn’t miss once. I’ve been responsible. I’ve proven that I have staying power. Right?”
“You