“Briefly, yes. If the ICU nurses give you the go-ahead.”
Joseph and Rachel went in first, her mother’s movements almost zombie-like. When they returned a few minutes later, Tara and Dylan took their place at Faye’s bedside. She looked terrible, her skin gray, all makeup gone, an elastic mark outlining her face from the paper cap she’d worn during the surgery. The gauze pad across her collarbone was stained with blood and Betadine. As if he could read Tara’s discomfort, Dylan folded under a blood-streaked section of sheet.
Tara picked up Faye’s hand. “Fight your way back, Faye. Don’t die. Please, don’t die.” Her voice trembled. She sounded like a desperate child, but she didn’t care. When the nurse asked them to leave, she let Dylan guide her into the empty hall.
“What if she dies?” she asked him.
“You’ll handle it,” he said, brushing her hair from her cheek. “You’re tough and brave. You’ll do what you need to do. And you have me. Don’t forget that. I’m here. Always.”
“You are,” she said. His steady gaze, his calm support made her feel like she could handle anything. “You are here.” Her heart filled up and spilled over. “I love you, Dylan. I never stopped loving you.”
He sucked in a breath, startled. “Same here. The more I deny it, the more I know it’s true.” They held each other’s gaze, letting their words sink in, grab hold, change everything between them.
When they rejoined the others, Joseph stood. “Your mother needs to go home,” he said to them. “Would you take her? I’ll stay the night.”
Tara saw that her mother looked ready to collapse. She made Joseph promise to call if anything changed, then they took her mother to Dylan’s Land Rover. Her mother seemed totally wrecked. All the way back, Tara tried to get her mother to talk, but nothing worked. At the house, Tara went around to help her mother step down from the SUV. She shook off her arm and got out shakily.
“I’ll make you some tea,” Tara said. “We’ll get through this together.”
“No, we won’t. I won’t have it. Not from you, I won’t.” Her mother’s eyes flashed fire. “I won’t have you hovering over me, pitying me. You don’t want to be here. You don’t belong here. Please go. Leave me in peace.” She stalked up the stairs.
Judith was coming down to meet her. “We’ll be fine, Tara,” Judith said, her voice kind.
“I have to get my car,” she said, still shocked by her mother’s words.
“Go on then,” Judith said.
Tara climbed into the front seat, numb and stung, grateful when Dylan drove off without a word. They were silent as they drove, though she felt his eyes on her often. She clenched all her muscles, fisted her hands, holding in her emotions. Her mother wanted her gone. She would not bend, would not forgive.
Dylan pulled up beside her car in his driveway. “Stay with me, Tara,” he said, his eyes holding hers. “Don’t go back there tonight.”
He wanted her with him, she knew that, but she was certain he was afraid she’d go back and confront her mother, and that would be a disaster.
“I’ll tell Judith,” she said, pulling out her phone.
“You’re smart to stay,” Judith said, then added softly, “I don’t know what got into her. I really don’t. She’s glad you’re here. I know that.”
Things were pretty bad when Judith felt the need to comfort Tara.
Inside the house, Tara turned to Dylan. His gaze held kindness and concern. “There’s a guest room, if you’d like. It’s got workout equipment, but the sheets are clean.”
She shook her head. “I want to sleep with you.” Tonight she needed to be held, to feel loved, to feel alive. She might lose her sister. She’d lost what little bit of her mother’s love she thought she’d had. She wasn’t about to lose Dylan, too. She needed him, needed his touch. In his arms, she would feel safe, she would fit, she would be home.
Dylan pulled her close and kissed her, sweeping her away from her fear and sorrow. Duster dropped to his belly beside them with a sigh.
Tara melted into the moment, lost at last in the physical intimacy of finally being with Dylan again. The embrace felt old and new at the same time. Dylan’s lips were warm and giving. She welcomed his tongue, the slow slide of his lips on hers, the urgency of him against her stomach. Her