He shook his head. “Not yet.” He drew in a deep breath, searching her face. “How’s the job?”
She relaxed a little, her gaze wandering out the front window. “I think I might have bitten off more than I can chew.”
He chuckled. “Doubt that.”
She arched a brow. “I don’t. I don’t know how the place has been functioning.” Her gaze locked with this. “But I’ll figure things out. And now you’re going to take a nap.”
“Haven’t had much adult conversation in the last week,” he said.
She nodded, a small smile on her mouth. “She’s smart. Soon enough, you’ll miss her gibberish. Once she starts talking, there’s no going back.” Her smile faded slowly.
“Nice to have company,” he said, watching her face. He’d missed her, so damn much.
She tore her gaze from his, tucking a strand of long blond hair behind her ear. “Toben’s a father, too. A son.” She paused, closing the lid on the piano. Her fingers stroked the wood with such affection, he was almost jealous. “Rowdy.”
“Great name,” he said. “Sounds about right, too, if he’s anything like Toben.”
Her smile was back. She loved her brother. But once their gazes met, that guarded awareness was there. Blazing. And Click couldn’t take it anymore. “Tandy, there’re things to be said—”
“No.” Her voice razor sharp, she threw up a hand.
“Tandy—”
“We’re not talking about the past.” The words were harsh.
He gritted his teeth. “Let me apologize.”
She shook her head, her eyes narrowing. “It doesn’t matter.”
“It does, dammit,” he argued.
“You need to apologize so I need to listen?” She shook her head. “So you can feel better? Be able to let go and move on?”
He tore his gaze from hers, staring at the floor. If he thought she was happy, that she’d moved on, he’d let it go. But she hadn’t. And neither had he. Maybe together they could find a way back to living without bearing so much pain. He sucked in a deep breath and stared at her. “Have you?” He crossed the room, needing to be close to her. Yearning for her touch. “I can’t. I don’t want to.”
Her eyes went round. “Click...” She seemed to wilt, her skin paling.
“I’m sorry I left you.” He gripped her shoulders. “I was out of my head, losing Amelia. Losing you.” He pulled her close. “I didn’t know what to do or say to keep you.”
Tears filled her eyes but she blinked them back. “Click.” His name, from her lips, gutted him.
“It wasn’t your fault,” he whispered. “You know that.”
She was shaking her head, her eyes pressed shut.
“It wasn’t, Tandy,” he pleaded, his hold tightening. “Dammit. There was nothing you could have done.” No matter what the doctor had told them, the damage had been done. Susan Boone’s question had echoed in that hospital room, “What did she do to make this happen?” He’d stared at the woman, speechless. But the question planted a seed, one that took hold of Tandy’s grief and twisted it into something hard and crippling. His father had been a bastard, but Tandy’s mother was a real-life flesh-and-blood monster. “No matter what your mom said, you have to know. I never thought it was your fault, never blamed you. You hear me? But I blame myself for leaving.”
She tried to pull away, her eyes still closed tightly.
The pain on her face almost shut him up. But if he didn’t say it, she’d never know. “I’m sorry I didn’t stay until you believed that, too.”
She was shaking.
“I hold on to that time because what we shared was real.” He smoothed her hair from her shoulder, savoring the slip of silk against his fingertips. “She was real and perfect—”
She covered her ears, shaking her head frantically. “Stop. Please stop.” She shrugged away from him. “What do you want? You need me to tell you I believe you? Fine, I do. You want me to tell you I’m not mad at you?” She waited, desperation lining her face. “I’m not mad. I told you to go, to move on. You did.” She choked on the last word, more potent that a slap to the face.
He stared at her, her anguish hard to watch.