Second Chances: A Romance Writers of America Collection (Stark World 2.50)

"Why! Dammit, tell me why?" Oh yeah, the rage was controlling him now.

Her eyes glistened with tears, and she was trembling again. "I lost an infant son. I couldn't look at you and live with the guilt. It was my fault."

"You're wrong, baby. His death wasn't your fault, but you sure as hell killed us."

"I lost a baby," she whispered.

Rye stood so quickly the chair toppled over behind him. He slammed his hands against the tabletop. His beer tipped and spilled. "The fuck is wrong with you, Mika," he growled, "you think I don't know that? You think I wasn't there suffering, too? Nah, baby, I had it a thousand times worse." He leaned across the table, towering over her and looked her in the eye as he went on. "I lost a son, too, Mika, but I also lost my wife."

Mika wanted to close her eyes, to look away, to see anything but the depths of pain she saw in her husband's stare. She wanted to reach for him, wrap her hand around the back of his neck and drag him closer, to touch his lips with hers even if just one more time. She wanted to hold him to her breasts and allow him to cry out the agony she felt. Knew he felt, too.

He was right. Everything he said was right. His anger was justified. She had destroyed them because she hadn't known how to share the grief. She'd thought to carry the burden alone, but what she'd done--what she'd done to Rye--was anything but.

She'd done harm to this man. To this strong, stoic man. He'd honored all his vows and she hadn't. She'd walked away. No matter how bad it hurt, she knew he deserved his freedom from her. She'd made him hold on for three years. Time to let him go.

Leaning forward, she pulled the papers toward her. And then she closed her eyes, lifted her face to her husband, and kissed him. She needed one final taste to see her through a lifetime without him. His mouth tasted like ale and anger, but his full lips melted against hers. His mouth was gentle despite the violence he'd shown. As tender as he'd always been. She sucked his bottom lip into her mouth and touched her tongue to his skin.

He groaned into her. He didn't kiss her back, but he didn't pull away either. Just stood bent across the table and allowed her to taste him.

Slowly, she pulled away, ending the contact. His gray eyes were open and looking at her. The fury she'd seen before had defused into something else dark and smoldering.

Her entire body was trembling as she licked her lips as she stood, bringing the divorce papers to her chest. "I'm sorry. I'll sign them. I'm so sorry." And then she turned and ran.

Mika rounded the tables and darted for the parking lot. Her pulse raged in her ears, and her heart was in her throat. Her stomach roiled, nausea prickling her skin. It'd been hard to leave him the first time, but something about running from her husband now felt even more final. More painful. Complete wreckage.

Her husband was behind her. She could hear his shoes thumping on the pavement. Hear his husky breathing. Feel his radiant heat. Reaching into her purse, she fumbled for her keys as she darted through parked cars toward hers, unwilling to slow down despite knowing he'd get to her before she got away. Her car was ahead, and her knees nearly wobbled

with relief. The heel of her sandal landed on a pebble and she stumbled.

Large, strong hands grabbed her shoulders, yanking her back before she face-planted against the cement. The divorce papers floated to the ground. His grasp was unrelenting as he spun her body to face him, backing her up until she collided with her car, and there was no escape from Rye's massive body. Pressed between steel and iron hard muscle.

Squeezing her lids closed, she didn't want to look at her husband. Didn't want to see the hurt and anger in his eyes. Didn't want to be tempted by the lips she'd just kissed. A moan escaped, and she battled tears.

"You can't do this, Mika. Not again." His voice was harsh, angry. "You don't get to do this again."

She didn't open her eyes. "Do what?" The words squeaked out. She was shaking and wished like hell he wouldn't notice.

"Leave me."

Her lids popped open and, damn it to hell, she lost the fight with an unruly tear. Oh, God, she'd caused the pain that tortured his features. Her head swam, and she swayed. Sentiment rose in her throat, but she gulped it down. Forcing her gaze from his face, she saw the folded papers on the ground. The divorce papers.

Another damn tear. She licked her dry lips. "You're the one who wants a divorce."

He stepped aside, his hands falling to his sides, releasing her. She nearly crumpled, but she straightened her legs and steadied herself.

His shoulders were tense, his chest rising and falling as he growled out a few sharp breaths. Lifting a hand, he scrubbed his palm over his face, then over his head. "Shit." He glanced away and dragged in gulps of air before turning to her.

Mika shivered; his stare pierced her. A lonely cloud drifted in front of the sun, casting a shadow across her skin.

"What you expect me to do? Just keep waiting?"

"I'm not sure what I expected today, Rye." She glanced at the papers. "But it wasn't those."

"It's been three years. Three fucking years."

"I know. I know. I meant to call you. Meant to come back. I'd go to bed thinking I was going to call you in the morning but then wake up and life looked so bleak. The guilt and sorrow would return. The hurt. I'd tell myself I'd call you tomorrow." She swallowed. "Just ... just tomorrow never came."

"Tomorrow came--" he paused as he reached forward and wiped a tear from her cheek, "today."