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

Rye rubbed his fingers against his jeans, his wife's tears burning his skin. He'd have given anything to spare her. It was as hopeless today as it'd been when their son had left them. Divorce wasn't what he wanted, but what else was there?

He cleared his throat. "Look, baby, I am not trying to hurt you. We've had enough of that. But you don't want me in your life, and I'm ready to have one. A life. I need to move forward. I want a wife--"

"You're seeing someone?"

Dammit, he hated the way her voice cracked. He didn't want to answer, but this wasn't the time for lies. "I have. I've tried to date, Mika. I want a wife. A family. I will never forget RJ, but I need to move forward. For the past three years, I've been under the same soil he has."

Another tear slid along his wife's cheek. He tightened his fingers against his pants and let them fall. She was trembling, her eyes shimmering. He wanted to pull her to his chest and hold her. To let her cry. To heal. But despite what he wanted, Mika wasn't ready.

Turning, he bent and scooped the papers from the ground and handed them to her. "There isn't much else to say, baby. Sign the papers and let's get on with it."

She gripped the papers to her chest and nodded but didn't answer.

Every muscle in his body ached. His hands shook. His chest burned. Ending it with her was the last thing he wanted to do, but exactly what needed to be done. He took a breath and held it until it was a fire in his lungs. They were done. "I'll give you two weeks, Mika. If you don't sign them by then, I'll file for divorce without you."

It took every ounce of his strength, every fiber of his being revolting, but he turned from her and walked away.

THE WEEK HAD BEEN overcast, but rainless. Not today. The clouds had broken and floated out of the Sacramento Valley, allowing the California sun to shine. Despite the briskness of the March air, his skin warmed under its glowing warmth. It dipped low in the sky.

Rye pulled the hoodie up over his head, casting his face into shadows to match his mood. He strode up the path, his body moving in pure muscle memory. He hadn't slept well, every dream swirling to the taste of Mika's lips. The sweetness of her mouth. It'd been a quick and unexpected kiss, but it tormented him. Haunted the nights.

The week had been hell. Every time his phone rang, his heart would stop, wondering if it was his wife calling to tell him she'd signed the divorce papers. He'd sought solace in running the trails along the river, on pushing himself physically to relieve his mind. It hadn't helped much. Fuck, not even a little bit.

Biting back a growl, he untwisted the cap of his water bottle and took a long swig as he rounded the bend, planning on watching the sunset from the knoll overlooking the river.

She was there.

It had been their spot. He shouldn't be surprised to see her there. But he was. Of all the times he'd been there, she'd never been. After she'd left him, he used to go there hoping to find her. Now, he'd gotten used to being there alone. It was his spot, and seeing his wife sitting there, her back against an oak tree, her shoulders slumped forward as she fiddled with something in her hands, he felt almost violated.

He choked on the swallow of water. They'd made love for the first time on a bed of clover here. Had probably conceived their son in the same spot. A breeze drifted past, the scent of the murky river along with something sweeter. Flowery. The alluring scent of his wife. He moved closer. She hadn't noticed him, her attention on the items in her hands.

He moved closer, glancing down to see what she fidgeted with. Folded white papers he assumed to be the divorce papers he'd asked her to sign. And her cellphone. His chest tightened.

"What are you doing here?" he demanded, breaching the distance between them, lack of sleep heightening anger and the odd sense of betrayal he felt by her being there.

"Oh!" She startled and scurried to her feet, keeping the oak tree behind her.

She wore a short summer dress that the breeze wrapped around her legs and a thin black sweater that slipped off one bare shoulder. Curls danced around her face, her gaze wide and defiant. She lifted her chin, and he nearly groaned when the pink tip of her tongue darted out to wet her lips.

"I was about to call you." She lifted her hand holding her cell.

"Why?"

Mika could feel her racing pulse drumming through her body. Her hands shook, but she squeezed her fingers so he wouldn't see. She'd planned on meeting up with him to give him the papers; she just hadn't expected it to be tonight. Hadn't expected it to be at their spot. She cleared her throat. "I signed the papers."

He stepped closer, the heat of his massive body encasing her, warming her as the sun had. She tried to read his face, but the hood of his sweatshirt shielded his eyes. She glanced to the bank on the other side of the river. The sun was low on the horizon now, reflecting gold and orange across the rippling water. Sunset burned across the sky.

"Is that what you want, Mika?" He moved closer. She wanted to touch him. To stroke his skin. To absorb his warmth. She retreated, pressing against the bark, but he was relentless. He stalked closer. "Is that what you want, baby? You left me; do you want to divorce me, too?"

She tried to answer, but no sound came out. She shook her head.

"Tell me," he demanded, grabbing the papers from her grasp, "why you signed them then."

Mika fought the need to look away. Despite how her hands shook, she reached up and shoved the hood from her husband's head. "For you. I signed them for you."

Not a moment had gone by when she hadn't been thinking about his words, his yearning for a wife and a family. From the day they met, it'd been a shared dream. A shared future. No matter how she tried to release Rye from her heart, she'd been unable to.

"For me?" He put one hand behind her against the tree as he leaned toward her. "What about for you? What do you want?"