Disclaimer: Still not mine.

Holding On

A story by Ryeloza

As soon as Tom parked the car in their driveway, he unbuckled his seatbelt and reached for the door handle. He was eager to escape the car: the awkward silence; the tension; the unspoken anger between him and Lynette. Before he could open the door, though, Lynette stopped him by putting her hand on his arm and saying in a falsely cheerful voice, "Penny, why don't you go play in the yard?"

"Okay," she agreed. Their daughter masterfully undid the safety harness on her car seat and was out the door in under a minute; like her brothers, sitting still for any length of time made her antsy. After she was gone, he and Lynette sat in silence for what felt like an eternity, each of them daring the other to speak first. It was Lynette who finally broke and Tom wasn't at all surprised when she went straight for the jugular. Anything less would have been disappointing.

"What happened at the restaurant this morning?" she asked. He could hear the emotion hiding underneath her deceptively even tone.

"Nothing."

She seemed to briefly contemplate and dismiss his Pavlovian response before asking, "Did something happen with Rick?"

"Funny that your mind goes right there."

"Well I don't know, Tom! You won't talk to me!"

"Oh, so now you want to talk? That's rich." A flicker of pain flashed in Lynette's eyes at his words. Despite still seething and having, for once, the high ground, seeing her hurt was still like a dagger to his heart. Slowly, he admitted, "Rick stopped by the restaurant this morning."

The color drained from Lynette's face so quickly that for a second Tom thought she might faint. He watched her carefully for a moment while her hands clenched the steering wheel, but unfortunately his concern was compromised by his insecurities. Why had she blanched like that? Was it the mere thought of Rick or simply the fact that he was dragging their problems into the open again? Not knowing only further raised his ire.

"What did he want?" Lynette finally managed to ask, albeit in a slightly strangled voice.

"Why does it matter?"

"I…It doesn't…I don't know what to say."

Tom shrugged. He had no idea what he wanted to hear from her. "He said he stopped by to turn in his apron, but the strange thing is he didn't have it with him."

"Tom…"

"I told him to keep it and then I kicked him out. The guy has some nerve, Lynette, I'll give you that. Stopping by in broad daylight."

Lynette didn't—couldn't?—look at him, but Tom could see the tears spill over and begin to roll down her cheeks. Somehow the sight of her crying broke his heart and made him madder all at the same time. "What do you want me to say?" she asked. "I can't control what he does."

Tom sighed. She was right; of course she was right. He had no reason to take this out on her beyond the fact that she was the one who had brought Rick into their lives and she was the one who had fallen for him. The thought of it made him want to punch his hand through a wall, but the simple truth was that she had apologized and she was still here and she wasn't making excuses. He so very badly wanted that to be enough, but it wasn't.

"What do you want from me?" she quietly demanded. There was a lethal edge to her words—a terseness that could cut him in two if he didn't tread carefully. She was mad at him, he realized, and maybe she had every right to be. "Do you want another apology? Is that what this is about?"

"No!"

"I thought we were moving past this!" she continued as if he hadn't interjected. "I know I fucked up. I know that this is all my fault. And maybe I don't deserve it, but I would think that you could cut me a little slack just for today!"

If he was a better person, the words would have taken all the wind from his sails. It should have. What right did he have to bring this up today of all days? But she didn't know how it had felt to walk into his restaurant today and feel as though the entire place was stained with pain and infidelity. His pride and joy had been perverted and Tom wasn't sure he would ever feel good there again. When Rick had swaggered in it had just been the cherry on top of the sundae. It was why he'd come home in a bad mood; why he'd clung to his anger; why he was confronting her now, no matter how wrong it might be. "What do you want me to say, Lynette?" he asked, barely concealing the tremor in his voice. "That I can just magically get over this because you want me to? It doesn't work that way!"

"I know! I know it doesn't work that way!"

"What is that supposed to mean?"

Lynette gave an exaggerated shrug; combined with the angry tears in her eyes it was a fearsome look. "I know what it's like to have your trust betrayed by the person you love most in the world. I remember that feeling all too well."

Tom blanched. His hands were shaking so badly that he had to clench them into fists to control the tremors. "I apologized for lying to you about Atlantic City until I was blue in the face. I felt horrible about that. I will feel horrible about that for the rest of my life. What else do you want me to say?"

"That is exactly my point!" shouted Lynette. "And I chose to accept your apology. Because that's what you do in these situations. You either trust the person you love or you cut and run. If you can't trust me or believe in me then—"

"When did this become about me?"

"This is about us!" She paused, breathing heavily, and then said, "Are you having second thoughts?"

"What?"

"If we hadn't gone to the hospital…If I wasn't sick…" Lynette swallowed, but Tom didn't have the time or heart to make the futile protest they both knew wasn't true. "Would you still be here?"

"Yes," said Tom. He didn't think about it. He didn't stop to consider the fact that if they hadn't gone to the hospital, Lynette might never have admitted what was going on and they'd still be living in a hotbed of tension and misery. The possibility that she might have built a wall so thick that he'd never be able to break through didn't faze him. Even if she had finally come clean—had been open with him—he would have forgiven her eventually. She was his whole life. He needed her as much as he loved her and nothing could make him voluntarily let her go. But…

Why was there always a but?

"Would you?"

Lynette's eyes softened and she reached out to grasp his forearm, her fingernails lightly trailing over his skin, and nodded. "Yeah. I would."

"I'm sorry I brought it up again."

"I pushed you."

"Yeah, well…That's what you do best."

Lynette smiled and leaned over to give him a quick kiss on the cheek. "Come on," she said, suddenly all business. "We need to get that ice cream in the freezer." Before he could respond, she opened the car door and climbed out; Tom halfheartedly popped the trunk, but didn't go further than that. He felt exhausted and depressed and weary—a volatile combination that made him want to pause his life for awhile so he could collect himself before moving on. If he ever saw Rick again he was going to punch the bastard; he could vow that now as certainly as he'd ever given a promise before. He'd been as smug today as he ever was—cocky. As though he had won. But he hadn't.

He hadn't.

Lynette rapped on the window with her knuckles as she passed by, her arms laden with grocery bags, and Tom reluctantly opened the door to get out and help her. The world outside was full of laughter: Penny was running after a butterfly, giggling vociferously. The sound was incongruous with his mood, but also overpowering, and as Tom walked into the house, grocery bags in hand, he felt his spirits rise. But it was momentary high. The second he spotted Lynette, standing in the kitchen on the telephone, her body rigid and her eyes wet with tears, Tom knew. Wordlessly, he dropped the bags of groceries on the floor, walked to his wife and pulled her into a tight embrace. There was nothing to say; nothing to do but to hold on to her as tightly as he could.