In Full Bloom (Second Chances 1)

As he wandered back into the living room, several pairs of eyes shot to him, and he raised his hands in surrender and said, “Girl talk, apparently.”

When they reappeared a half hour later, albeit a little red eyed, they both seemed okay. He was dying to know what the hell had happened but there was no way he was willing to ask. He hoped, for once, that Taryn would be forthcoming.

She sat down next to him and laid her head against his shoulder, her eyes closed.

“You good?” he asked.

She nodded and said, “Yeah. Everything is good.”

By the time everyone headed up to bed, it was clear that everything was not, in fact, good. She had been incredibly quiet since her time in the kitchen. His mother hadn’t been much better.

Finally, when they lay in the dark, he pulled her against his chest. She didn’t speak. She just snuggled into him, her cheek pressed against him with a shuddering sigh.

He stroked a hand through her hair and p

ressed kisses to the top of her head periodically. Eventually he realized, mostly because of the dampness on his shirt, that she was crying.

“Baby,” he said, feeling utterly helpless. Continuing to stroke her hair, he just waited for the flood to end. He had no idea what else to do. He had seen Taryn as sarcastic, snide, and even vulnerable. This was entirely new, though.

When she finally slowed down, he said, “Talk to me. Please.”

She took a deep breath and said, “So, it was the fact that your dad wasn’t in the picture that set your mom off.”

He felt that pang in his chest, the same way he always did when he thought about his father. It had been four years, but it never got easier to deal with. His father had died of a heart attack in the garden. He’d never even gotten the chance to say good bye. To say any of the things he felt like he should have said.

He ignored the stab in his gut and said, “That’s not what all of this is about, though.”

She sniffled against him and said, “No. It’s not.”

He waited, continuing to rub a hand against her back until she finally spoke again.

“She got to talking about the holidays and how rough things get without him. She basically cried all over me, which made me feel like a total piece of crap. The last thing I wanted to do was to make her cry like that. She told me the story.”

He craned his neck to look down at her when she picked her head up off his chest.

She whispered, “I’m so sorry, by the way.”

Unable to speak, he just pressed a kiss to her forehead. He couldn’t even articulate. It had been so long and the words still got caught in his throat.

“Anyway, your mom fell to pieces for a minute in the kitchen. So I told her that I didn’t get the exact feeling but that I understood loss. Christ,” she said, her voice wavering again. “I just didn’t want her to feel so damn alone. That’s the worst part of the grief for me.”

He nodded and said, “Yeah.”

“She says something to me along the lines of ‘I can tell.’ It was totally innocuous. I don’t even think she was prying for any sort of information. I know she wanted to ask before though. Even the day we met, I could tell she had a million questions. So, I told her. Not everything. But more. More than I told you. I don’t even know why.”

“Mom has always been really good about getting people to unburden themselves,” Evan said, feeling some of the weight lift off of his chest. “She asks the right questions. She can work a meaningful pause like no one I’ve ever met.”

Taryn gave a watery laugh and said, “You’re not kidding. I found myself telling her shit I didn’t even tell Cora.”

“Not entirely surprised,” he said. “You hold on to your pain pretty tightly.”

“I know,” she whispered.

“You should talk to someone. It’s not good to hold all that inside.”

She nodded in agreement against his chest and said, “It’s not.”

He gave her a gentle squeeze, and lay there quietly. He had no fucking clue what to say to her.