of you, not a weak, useless excuse for a human being.”
“Dear God, Sam, why would you think I would see you any other way?” she asked, confused.
“I guess when that’s all you heard for as long as you can remember, you start to believe it,” he said, shrugging.
She caught her breath as she began to understand. “Your father was…abusive.”
When Sam raised his eyes to meet hers, he nodded. “He wasn’t physically abusive, but verbally, he really did a number on me. Most of the time he ignored me and Nate as if we didn’t exist. But when he did say something to us, it was never anything positive. If we heard how worthless and pathetic we were once, we heard it a thousand times—usually when we were taking our mother’s attention away from him.”
Anger filled Bria at the thought of anyone talking that way to a child. But for his father to have spoken that way to Sam was almost more than she could bear.
“Your father was the one who was weak, Sam. He tried to build himself up by bringing you down.”
“I know that now,” he said, smiling sadly. “But having it drilled into you from the time you’re old enough to listen has a lasting effect.” He seemed to take an inordinate interest in his boots a moment before he lifted his gaze to meet hers. “That’s why I failed you when you needed me the most, sweetheart.”
Bria sucked in a sharp breath. “You mean when I lost the baby.”
For the first time since she had known him, he allowed her to see the deep sadness and emotional pain in the depths of his dark blue eyes. “I didn’t come home right away because I couldn’t,” he said. “I couldn’t let you see how much your losing the baby affected me.”
Tears filled her eyes. “But I needed you, Sam. I needed you to share the grief and disappointment I was going through—that we were both going through.”
He closed his eyes and the sight of a lone tear slowly making its way down his lean cheek almost tore her heart out. Sam had been just as hurt by the miscarriage as she had been, but because he feared that he would appear weak, he had chosen to bottle up his emotions and act as if nothing had happened.
Before she could get out of the chair and go to him, he cleared his throat, got to his feet and started toward the door. “I’m sorry I failed you, Bria. Whatever else you want in the divorce, just have the lawyer draw up the necessary papers and I’ll sign them.”
“No.”
Stopping, he turned to face her. She had never seen him look more miserable.
“What does that mean?” he asked, his voice rough.
Bria rose from the chair and walked over to stand in front of him. “No, you didn’t fail me, Sam.”
“How the hell do you figure that?” he asked, frowning. “I wasn’t around when you lost the baby and I was too big of a coward to come home to face the emotions we were both going through.”
She placed her hand on his arm. “Sam, I think we failed each other.”
“Don’t say that, sweetheart.” He shook his head. “I couldn’t have asked for a better wife.”
“Yes, you could.” She swiped at the tears running down her cheeks. “I knew you had problems when you were younger and should have realized that you had to build a lot of walls to protect yourself. And instead of whining about you never being home with me, I should have understood when you said you worked so hard because you were trying to be a good husband.”
“That’s no excuse for me not sharing my past with you, for me not being with you when you lost the baby,” he said stubbornly. “I’ll never forgive myself for being such a damn coward.”
“Oh, Sam, just shut up and hold me,” she said, wrapping her arms around his waist and laying her head against his wide chest. Maybe if she could convince him that she forgave him, one day he would be able to forgive himself.
When he didn’t immediately take her into his arms, she leaned back to look up at him. “Sam?”
“I can’t put my arms around you, Bria.”
“Why not?”
“Because if I do, I’ll never be able—” he stopped to clear his throat and she knew he was once again fighting a wave of strong emotion “—to let you go.”
Bria knew they had reached a crossroad. She could