Free Marry Me Again (The Second Chance Love Series, Book 1) by Teresa Hill

he after? And how was she going to protect herself this time?
    She moved quickly to the sofa and put the picture album down, unopened, on the coffee table. Then she stared at the floor and prayed she was wrong about what he was looking for inside.
    The sofa cushion to her right sagged as Tucker sat down beside her. He flipped to the back of the album, guessing correctly that the birthday photos were the most recent ones.
    "There," he said bluntly as he punched the picture with his index finger. "What do you see?"
    A terribly sad little boy.
    She didn't even have to look down at the picture he'd pointed out. She knew the one. Sammy, miserable, facing seven glowing birthday candles and looking as if he were about to cry.
    She had hated seeing that look on his face. She'd known the instant he'd closed his eyes and blown out the candles what Sammy had wished—for his father to come for his birthday.
    It had been a terrible day, the first time that Sammy had wanted something, wanted it desperately, and Rebecca hadn't been able to give it to him.
    That was one of the worst feelings a mother ever knew—wanting to give her child something important that she couldn't provide.
    "Look at that." Tucker punched the picture again with his finger. "What's the matter with him, Rebecca? Can you tell me?"
    She shook her head sadly, hating what had happened, hating having to tell him about it. "He got this idea in his head that you were coming to his birthday party."
    "And?"
    "And he was pretty upset when you didn't come."
    Tucker laughed bitterly and got to his feet. He paced, hampered by the small space.
    "So you just let him wait for me all day when you knew I wasn't coming?"
    "No." She jumped at his harsh tone. "I didn't know, Tucker. He wouldn't tell me what he wanted for his birthday until that night, right before he went to sleep, when you weren't there."
    Tucker scowled and paced some more.
    "It was that damned Jimmy Horton," she said. "His parents separated, and then they got back together. And it gave Sammy the idea that you might come back, too."
    When he looked as dangerous as ever, Rebecca kept talking.
    "He didn't... It's not like he begged me to find you and ask you to come see him, Tucker. He didn't even tell me what he wanted until that night after the party."
    "So why didn't you call me?"
    His words hung in the air, and she paused, knowing they'd reached the heart of the matter.
    And she wanted to hurt him then. She knew it was wrong, knew it wouldn't solve anything, but she wanted him to have a taste of the pain he'd caused her and Sammy.
    "Why, Rebecca? Why couldn't you just call me and tell me?"
    "Would it have mattered to you?"
    He halted, almost in mid-step, and she heard the breath whiz out of his lungs.
    She'd wounded him, and now she found no pleasure in it. "Tucker——"
    "It would have mattered."
    She heard the anguish in his voice and hardened her heart against it.
    "You're telling me that if I had called, you would have come running?" She couldn't believe that. "It's been years, Tucker. Years without so much as a word from you. He's your son, for God's sake, and you haven't seen him in years."
    Tucker sat down on the edge of the coffee table, right in front of her, and took both her hands in his. She would have resisted, should have, but something in his eyes stopped her, something urgent, something unfathomable that touched her in the core of her being.
    "Tucker—"
    She tried to draw away, but he held fast to her hands and ran the pads of his thumbs back and forth to calm her, and she let him. She sat there with her hands in his, closer to him than she needed to be, feeling that old familiar power.
    She'd been drawn to him once, inevitably, inexplicably, undeniably, and for the life of her she couldn't understand why it had all happened.
    Except, of course, for Sammy.
    At one time, Rebecca had wished vehemently that she'd never met Tucker. But that hadn't lasted. Tucker had given her Sammy, and Sammy meant the