A/N: Just to let you guys know, Sam will be doing things that you might not think someone with his injury could do in the next few chapters. I just want you skeptics out there to know that while I do use poetic license occasionally, where Sam is concerned, I try to portray his paraplegia and how he deals with it as accurately as I can (demon blood not withstanding). Almost everything he does I've either read about a real-life person with an injury similar to his doing or seen them doing in videos-even the yoga stuff. I'm not making up what he is capable of doing.

Thank you to those who reviewed as guests for your confidence-boosting comments. I can't reply personally, but please know that your reviews are like gold to me. The rest of you already know you're awesome. :)

Thank you Catsluver for pushing me to write the scene with Sam and Jeremy in this chapter, and thank you sallyloveslinus for your suggestions and finding the little things. Any mistakes after I post are my own.

Chapter 16

TJ wanted to run forever and never stop. She wanted to be free of all the stares, of all the pain—of feeling like she was a freak. Unfortunately, reality set in quickly, and her lungs burned. She made it as far as the barn, which wasn't very far from the house at all. By the time she got there, she was seeing stars and had tunnel vision, dangerously close to passing out. Her atrophied body was still recovering from months of being bedridden, and it wasn't up for a run. It probably wasn't even up for a walk.

She made it to the huge sliding doors of the barn and leaned against one of them, facing it with her palms against it. She heard a faint rattle as the door reacted to her weight. Slowly, she turned around to where her back was to the door and then slid down it to the ground. She literally couldn't move a muscle. Her legs were like Jell-O, and her lungs were still heaving, trying to refill with enough air. It was a monumental effort, since she was still sobbing.

This weakness of her body was something else that was new, and she hated it. She'd always been athletic, although it wasn't necessarily by choice. She was big and tall and everyone wanted her for their teams—softball, basketball, touch football, tennis, etc. She'd always been in high demand because of her size and she'd been a decent player, but her heart had never been in it. She was more of the nerdy scientist type who loved to spend hours in her mom's science lab experimenting with whatever her mother would allow. That didn't mean, however, that she liked being a weakling.

She tried to stop crying so she could breathe. She concentrated on inhaling through her nose and then exhaling, and, slowly, she felt herself begin to calm down.

She looked over at the house and snorted out a self-deprecating, cynical laugh. Everyone was still frozen there, still staring at her, and she felt like a dork. Her dramatic exit had kind of fizzled, since she'd barely run far enough to get out of earshot.

She watched them with a certain detachment, like she was watching an old, silent film. Jeremy said something and they all nodded, all except Sam. His eyes hadn't left her, and she knew without having to see him up close that he had that same locked-jaw look on his face that he wore almost constantly.

The others started to go inside, all except Jeremy, who walked toward TJ. Sam was the last to move, watching Jeremy walk toward her. After a moment, Sam finally turned his chair toward the door, pushing himself with hard, jerky grips of his wheels, and rolled inside the house. His freaky dog followed behind him. TJ had never seen a dog that could jump like Rocket.

It didn't take long for Jeremy to reach her. His light-brown hair picked up reddish highlights in the sun, and he looked effortlessly handsome in his old jeans, boots, and white T-shirt. He gave her an ironic smile. "Well, welcome home, Nelly."

She snorted derisively.

"You want some company?"

"No."

His eyes, which were like brushed nickel, held a hint of challenge and wry humor. "Good." He sat down beside her and grabbed a small, random rock that was on the ground, then pulled up his knees almost to his chest and rested his forearms on them, idly fidgeting with the rock.

"Your ears broke?" she asked.

"Nope."

She was annoyed. "I just need to be alone."

"Well, you ought to at least run around to the back of the barn, then, so no one can see you."

She huffed out a small laugh, despite her mood, and gave his shoulder a push. "Shut up."

He grinned, and it almost stopped her heart. He put his arm around her shoulders. "I'm sorry about Elliott," he said sincerely. "I loved him, too."

She felt her throat constrict but there were no tears. The well was dry. "I know."

"He had a good life. After you went to college, you didn't see him that much anyway."

"Gee, thanks. That makes it so much better. Especially since I don't remember any of that. I never left—at least in my brain I didn't. Elliott was only three years old the last time I saw him. I mean, he still acted like a puppy sometimes. Don't you get that?"

He nodded. "Yeah. I get it. But the reality is that you did leave. You made a whole other life for yourself—a whole other family." There was soft accusation in his tone.

She shook her head, feeling a familiar knot in her stomach at the mention of her other "family." "I don't know how I could have. I love you, Jeremy, and I have since the day I was born." She'd blurted it out without thinking, too emotionally drained to be on guard.

He gave her a squeeze. "I've always loved you too, Nelly. You know that."

She knew he meant like a sister, and she didn't pursue it. She would scare him off if she wasn't careful. She shouldn't have told him she loved him and was embarrassed that she had, so she changed the subject. "It's not just Elliott, you know? I mean, losing him hurts. I never got to say goodbye to him, and I hate the thought..." She paused, feeling her throat narrow again. "I hate the thought of him dying under the barn all alone."

"I know. Me, too. But I think that's how most dogs prefer to die, else they'd do it on the front porch instead of skulking off somewhere. Just be glad that he probably didn't suffer. His time came, and it was done."

She nodded, knowing that however much it hurt, Jeremy was right. "It's Uncle Joe Mack, too," she said softly. "It doesn't take a genius to figure out he's got lung cancer."

"I know, and I'm sorry. I think he's been fightin' it for a year and a half now."

"How much time you think he's got?"

He shrugged. "I don't know. Rumor mill says maybe three to six months."

Her heart plummeted to her stomach. She'd hoped it would be longer. "I've missed so much time with him."

"Well, it ain't like you didn't see him, Nelly. You've been home for almost every holiday and also the summers. You probably saw him as much as you would if you'd stayed in Kentucky. It ain't like you hung out with him every day when you lived here."

"I know, but I don't remember all those holidays and family get-togethers for the last six years. I feel like I've been cheated."

"Yeah. But he remembers. Joe Mack knows you've been here, and he knows you love him."

She was comforted by that and felt something uncoil a bit inside her. She laid her head on Jeremy's shoulder and sighed. "Where do I go from here? What will happen? Do I go back to school and start over?"

"Aren't you forgetting something?"

"Um, yeah. I'm forgetting lots of things," she said dryly.

He snorted. "I mean what are you gonna do about your husband and those babies?"

"He's not my husband. I barely know him."

"Well, there's a very legal document in the state of California that says he is."

"I know." She was quiet for a moment, the fact of her marriage hanging over her head. "It sucks. Not just for me. For Sam, too. He seems like a nice enough guy, just from what I know. He doesn't deserve any of this."

"No. I suppose he don't, but neither do you, Nelly."

"To top it all off, he's handicapped."

"Yeah. It's kind of hard to give a feller in a wheelchair the boot, ain't it?"

She nodded. "Plus, my parents seem to really like him." She huffed, thinking of the exchange between Sam and Uncle Joe Mack over carrying TJ's cardboard box and the way Aunt Tru had fawned over Sam earlier this afternoon at the nursing home. "Heck, my whole family likes him. I don't know that anyone would back me up if I said I wanted him gone. And then there's the twins. Whether I feel like their mother or not, they're my flesh and blood. They're my parents' grandchildren. I mean, even if I get a divorce from Sam, they're gonna be in my life forever." She paused for a moment, feeling despair at the prospect. "I'm so scared, Jeremy. What am I supposed to do?"

He absently rubbed her shoulder. "I don't know, but you're not alone. I'll be with you every step of the way."

XXXXXXXX

When TJ and Jeremy finally walked through the front door a few minutes later, TJ was met with more changes. The house smelled different, like paint and new wood. The multicolored olive-, forest-, and lime-green shag carpet that had been in most of the rooms since she could remember was gone, at least in the living room. In its place was...nothing. The floor was a rough, scuffed hardwood. The shag had been bad enough, but the wood that hadn't seen the light of day in years was awful.

The twins were rocking in matching swings in the living room, the boy asleep and his sister sucking her tiny thumb with heavy lids, about to join him in dreamland. The sight of them made something shift inside TJ, but she brushed it off. She was human, right? Just because she thought the babies were cute or whatever the feeling was that she'd just experienced, it didn't mean she was ready for motherhood.

Everyone was gathered around the large farm table in the kitchen, even Sam, who was pulled up to the table in his wheelchair. They all had Mason jars of iced tea in front of them, and there was a cake that Aunt Joyce had probably made that said "Welcome Home TJ" on it in bright purple icing.

It sounded like Aunt Joyce was talking about one of the ladies at her church. "Lawsy, you shoulda seen Mrs. Walker's face. She was fit to be tied. She don't have that old timer's disease. She just hadn't seen Myrna in years. Plus, Myrna's put on about fifty pounds. I was hard-pressed to recognize her, and I'm thirty years younger than Mrs. Walker."

Everyone chuckled, all except Sam. He was the first one to notice that TJ was standing in the doorway to the kitchen. His eyes were dark—questioning—and his expression turned stony as his gaze rested on Jeremy, who was standing beside her.

Fern was the next person to notice TJ and Jeremy and immediately jumped up from her chair, skirting the table and giving TJ a big, sympathetic hug.

When they separated, Fern put an arm around TJ's waist and rubbed circles on her back. "I'm sorry, sugar. We should have prepared you about Elliott. We were just so excited that you were coming home, and, well, it's been several months since Elliott passed."

TJ nodded and swallowed, fighting new tears. She didn't want to talk about Elliott anymore. Instead, she looked around behind her. "Mama, why is all the carpet gone?"

"Oh. Well, Daddy and I decided we were tired of it. You know, hardwood is back in style, anyway."

TJ frowned, looking around again. She could see that the hallway going to the bedrooms was bare wood, too. "You think this looks better?" she asked dubiously.

Vern chimed in. "Well, eventually we're gonna have it refinished, but it's kindly pricey to have it done."

"So why didn't you wait to get rid of the shag until you were ready to redo the hardwood?"

"Well, it's easier for Sam to wheel around with the carpet gone," said Fern. "Plus, sanding the wood to refinish it creates a lot of dust, which wouldn't be good for the twins.

Oh, of course. Sam and the twins were the reason. Nothing was the same anymore, and it was all due to them. TJ glanced at him. His eyes were on her, broody and pensive. It pissed her off.

The look on her face must have shown her disdain, because Fern began to talk in a rush, explaining. "We were gonna get rid of that old shag anyway, even before Sam came. We've been talking about doing something for years, and that carpet was old and nasty."

TJ couldn't keep the acerbic bite out of her tone. "So now we have to live with this shitty, splintery, rotten wood instead?" It really wasn't that bad, but TJ was in no mood to cut anyone any slack.

Everyone shifted uneasily. Sam's brooding expression got even darker, his head tilted to one side. TJ could tell she'd hit a nerve, but she didn't care.

Aunt Joyce cleared her throat nervously. "Would y'all like some cake?"

No one answered. Vern didn't seem to have heard and was eyeing TJ with a stern, warning look. "First of all, I think your delicate feet can handle that hardwood, Miss High-And-Mighty, or else wear your damn slippers. Second of all, little girl, you better watch your tongue."

Vern never tolerated anyone putting on airs, and TJ knew she was pushing things with her attitude. Apparently, the fact that she was an amnesiac and had just come home from the hospital after being in a freakin' coma didn't count for anything. She should just be happy to accommodate Sam and the twins. Everything revolved around them.

"I'm not a little girl, Daddy," she retorted bitterly, not caring if she was skating on thin ice with Vern. "I'm gonna be twenty-five years old. Isn't that what y'all keep reminding me?"

No one had anything to say to that, and even Vern's features dissolved into something softer and sadder.

Just the thought of her upcoming birthday made her ill. So much time lost. Six years just gone. It was a mantra that kept repeating over and over in her head in various forms. She closed her eyes for a second, feeling drained. "I'm goin' to my room." She pinned Sam with a glare. "That is, if it's still my room."

He met her gaze steadily. There was a steeliness about him that made her uncomfortable.

Fern, who still had an arm around TJ's waist, gave her a squeeze. "Of course, honey. Your room is still the same—well, almost. We thought you and Sam would be—well, anyway, you have your room, and Sam is staying in the extra bedroom. That bedroom was the nursery, but now we've converted the formal dining room into one. We never used it anyway. Just remember to be quiet if the babies are in there sleeping when you're in the kitchen or living room since those rooms are next to the dining room."

TJ nodded distractedly, not really caring whether she woke the babies or not. She gave Uncle Joe Mack and Aunt Joyce hugs and thanked them for coming. Then she hugged Jeremy. "Thanks," she whispered in his ear. "Thanks for being here."

He squeezed her tighter. "You're welcome."

When they pulled apart, she locked eyes with him, and something passed between them, an emotion that made her heart leap.

"I'll call you later," he said softly.

She gave him a faint smile and then kissed his cheek. As she turned to walk down the short hallway to her room, she caught a glimpse of Sam staring at her. His jaw was set, his shoulders rigid, and he didn't look pleased at all.

TJ didn't give a damn.

XXXXXXXX

Sam could do this. It was just four steps. He could do it because he was fucking pissed.

He turned his chair to where his back was to the steps and popped a wheelie, balancing on his back wheels. He grabbed the handrail of the steps with one hand, arm stretched as far as it would go. His other hand was on the wheel nearest the rail, arm across his body. It was sort of an awkward position, but there was a method to the madness—the Railing Side-Wheel Control Method, to be exact.

He'd seen a guy on YouTube go up many more stairs than this in his chair using the technique. Sam figured he could suck it up and handle four. He turned sideways in his chair a bit so that his chest was more toward the rail and pulled hard with the hand that was gripping the rail, pushing his wheel with his other hand at the same time. He looked down and saw that both wheels were now on the first step. He rested for a second, rocking on his back wheels, and let out a puff of air. Three more to go...pull and push, balance; pull and push, balance; pull and push, balance.

By the time he made it up to the porch, he was a little winded but, otherwise, in one piece. He looked down to the bottom step, at the distance he'd gone, and raised his brows. "Huh."

He still preferred an elevator, but, in a pinch, this would work. He could do it again if he had to. To get down the steps, he would use the same method in reverse.

He swiveled around and faced the front door of the Suggs farmhouse.

When he'd first met Jeremy, he'd liked him. They had the same common interest—TJ and getting her to wake up. Jeremy had been there a lot, talking to her and keeping Sam and her parents company. It was clear that Jeremy cared about her, and Sam had liked him because of that. But now it was looking like Jeremy cared about TJ in a way that could derail any chance Sam had of building a relationship with her again. Sam felt like he'd been blindsided.

He'd known TJ's recovery was too good to be true because miracles never happened to him. Technically, it was TJ the miracle was happening to though, not him, so maybe that was why the fates were being kind. Maybe the fates wouldn't notice that TJ waking up was the only thing Sam wanted, that he would do anything to see her long lashes flutter and her big, beautiful brown eyes open again. He wanted to see those childlike freckles of hers scrunch up with feigned annoyance when he teased her and see her smile and laugh. If he could have her even mostly intact, he would never ask for anything ever again.

She did wake up, flouting the dire predictions of the doctors in San Diego. Leave it to TJ to prove that doctors didn't know everything. Not only did she wake up, but, eventually, she was able to talk, to understand what people said to her, although she had trouble remembering. It seemed like a little thing, having to tell her things over and over. And the longer she was able to stay awake, the more information she was able to retain.

Sam was relieved and ecstatic. He began to hope. Maybe—just maybe—everything would be all right. Maybe TJ and the twins would eventually be okay and they would be able to build a life together, to be a family. He should have known better.

She could move her arms and legs. Although her muscles were weak from disuse, there was no evidence of paralysis, and she was getting stronger. All the hearing tests and vision tests were promising. She had trouble seeing far away, but the doctor thought it had more to do with her having her eyes closed for six months more than a neurological problem.

The day Sam took the twins to her, he was riding high. TJ would be so amazed by them. She would be so happy. But there was one little glitch, one little snag that he hadn't seen coming. He could hear the fates laughing at him even now.

TJ had no memory of him or the twins.

He was devastated. He literally felt like the earth had shifted on its axis, like the rug had been pulled out from under him.

And not only did she not remember him, she seemed to have an intense dislike for him. Her hostility toward him was so foreign, so out of place, that it was sometimes hard for him to comprehend it. He had to remind himself that he wasn't in the middle of a nightmare.

He wanted to touch her, to kiss her, to make love to her. God, it had been so long. His body ached for her with an overwhelming longing that physically hurt. Yet she didn't even want to be in the same room with him. He knew he needed to tread carefully with her, no matter how much he wanted to take her into his arms and hold onto her for eternity.

Apparently, the fates weren't done with Sam yet. As if the amnesia and TJ's wariness of him weren't enough, the fates hadn't erased her memory entirely. Oh, no. They'd made it where she remembered Jeremy, the guy she'd loved practically since birth—the bastard that had taken her virginity when she was eighteen and then humiliated her by fucking every other girl in Tucker County who would let him into her pants.

TJ told Sam all about it long ago, how she'd loved Jeremy and thought that giving herself to him would ensure that he would love her back. It hadn't. Jeremy had hurt her and damaged her self-esteem, but she didn't seem to remember any of that now. Sam saw the way she looked at Jeremy. It was the way she used to look at him.

He gritted his teeth, remembering her whispering into Jeremy's ear and then kissing him on the cheek. Jeremy had smiled back at her with a smirk that held a promise. It made Sam seethe with anger and go cold with fear at the same time.

Sam had come so close to losing her, but she was alive and—thank God—able to walk and talk. He was no longer in danger of losing her to death and her mind was intact—mostly. It was what he'd asked for, right? The irony of that wasn't lost on him.

Now he was in danger of losing her in a much different way—to Jeremy. Well, fuck that. Sam would be damned first.

He knew TJ. She could be stubborn, and the more Sam and the twins were crammed down her throat, the more she would resist them. He wanted to be patient with her, to give her time to adjust to everything that had happened and get to know him and the twins on her own time when she was ready. In order for that to work, though, he needed Jeremy to back off.

Sam rang the doorbell.

After a few minutes, Jeremy opened the door and raised his brows. "Sam?"

Sam nodded curtly.

"What can I do for you?"

Sam didn't beat around the bush. "I want you to stay away from TJ."

Jeremy was chewing on a toothpick, and he leaned leisurely against the doorjamb, one hand in his jeans pocket. He smiled insolently, looking down at Sam. "Is that so?"

Sam refused to let the fact that he had to look up at this jerk make him feel inferior. He squared his shoulders and looked Jeremy directly in the eye. "She's confused right now. She needs time. Having you around just makes her more confused."

"Why do you think that is?"

Sam tightened his mouth, feeling a surge of anger. "I think you know."

Jeremy took the toothpick out of his mouth. The insolence in his manner was gone, and he was suddenly serious. "She needs me right now. She's lost and scared."

"She has me and her parents."

"You're a stranger to her, and Fern and Vern keep taking your side on things. I'm the only one that listens to her, that cares how she feels."

That made Sam pause. Is that how it looked to TJ? That everyone was ganging up on her? "I care about how she feels and so do Fern and Vern. We want what's best for her."

"Yeah," agreed Jeremy, "but what y'all think is best and what TJ thinks is best might be two different things. Y'all want her to just jump right in and be the good little wife and mommy, but maybe that ain't what she wants. Maybe she's not ready for that."

"No one expects her to 'jump right in.' She needs time without you interfering."

"She's my best friend. I've loved her my whole life. If she needs me, I'm gonna be there for her."

Sam rolled his eyes. "You barely spoke to her more than twice in the last six years."

A flash of regret crossed Jeremy's features. "She built a new life for herself. I didn't want to ruin that for her."

"So don't ruin it now."

"Well, there's the small matter that she don't remember that life anymore."

"She's my wife."

"In my book, if she don't remember you or the vow she made—and won't ever remember again—that changes things."

Sam clenched his jaw. "I won't give up on her. What we had—it was stronger than any teenage romance that happened six years ago. Stay away from her. It's not just me. She's a mother now. She needs to be able to get to know the twins, to bond with them."

Jeremy shook his head. "I'm not gonna abandon her when she needs me."

Sam's mouth curled sardonically. "Why? You did before."

Jeremy's expression hardened. "I was a teenager. We were both so young then. I was an asshole, and I've paid for it the last six years. I've wished a million times that I could go back and do things differently. I would never hurt her like that if I could go back and do things over." He smirked, his eyes twinkling and arrogant. "Seems like maybe I'm gettin' that do-over now after all."

"You fucking dick," Sam spat. "She has amnesia. What kind of pathetic excuse for a human are you for taking advantage of that? It's the only reason she's even giving you the time of day."

Jeremy's steely eyes turned glacial. "We'll see about that."

Sam made his words forceful and deliberate. "Stay...away...from my wife."

Jeremy's brows went up and he eyed Sam's wheelchair pointedly. "What are you gonna do if I don't?"

What could Sam say to that? He gripped his tires hard, a wave of fury scorching his blood. He wished with every fiber of his being he could stand up and kick this douche bag's ass. "Stay away from her."

Jeremy waved his toothpick at Sam. "I tell you what. I'll do what's best for TJ, what she wants. If she chooses you, I'll steer clear." One side of his mouth curved into half a smile. "Otherwise, may the best man win."

XXXXXXXX

TJ woke from her nap feeling listless and depressed. The sun was fading into dusk and didn't do anything to help cheer her. She hated waking when the sun was going down. There was something wrong about it, and it made her feel weird and on edge.

She lay in her bed, scanning the room, looking for what was different and what was the same. That was how it was for her these days—constantly searching for some semblance of order, some semblance of what remained of her old life, and trying not to freak out when she could never really find it because nothing remained untouched by time.

The comforter on the bed and the decorative curtains were different, although the white metal blinds over the window were the same. The comforter and curtains were a tasteful, solid light blue and were more grown up and tranquil than the lime-green and purple stripes she'd had in high school. The wall color was different, too. It was a subtle, practical, grayish taupe instead of the garish, girlie, bright lavender it was before.

She wondered if Other TJ had chosen all these new colors or if Fern had chosen them. Somehow, she doubted it was her mom. Fern's tastes in decorating left a lot to be desired. In fact, all the crazy bright colors of TJ's room before had been Fern's idea.

TJ wasn't sure what to do with herself. She wanted to talk to her parents, to just be with them, but she was afraid she would have to be around Sam, too. When she heard the squawk of one of the twins in the living room, it was decided for her. She would stay out of sight. The baby boy's reaction earlier in the day—the way he'd gotten so upset because she wouldn't hold him—had been unsettling. She didn't know the first thing about handling a baby.

She'd never babysat anyone younger than five. She'd never changed a baby's diaper in her whole life. When she was old enough, she'd started waitressing at Donna's, and her short-lived babysitting days were over. Her experience with babies was nonexistent, and she had no desire to learn. That probably made her a bad person, but after all the revelations of the past few weeks, she didn't care.

She decided to take a shower. It would give her something to do, and the thought of hot water sluicing over her shoulders suddenly sounded incredibly inviting, especially in her own shower in her own bathroom. Maybe it would beat some of the tension out of her. She headed out of her room and into the hallway toward the bathroom, grinding her teeth at the feel of the scratchy hardwood beneath her bare feet.

Her first clue that it wasn't just her bathroom anymore was that the doorway to it was wider. The wood around the threshold and the door itself were new and freshly painted. When she opened the door, she saw that there was a white padded seat that had replaced the regular toilet seat, a bench-looking thing across the middle of the shower, and the normal shower head had been replaced with a hand-held one. It reminded her of the bathroom at the old folks home she'd been in. All that was missing were the grab bars, and she wondered why they hadn't gone all the way and installed those, too.

She almost groaned audibly. She had to share a bathroom with Sam. Of course she did. What other option was there? Her parents' bedroom had its own bathroom that had been added years ago, but she would have to go through their room every time to get to it if she wanted to use it. She was almost tempted to do just that, but instinct told her that her parents wouldn't approve, and there was no logical reason she could think of not to share with Sam, other than he was a complete stranger—and a guy. And the modifications to the bathroom, although minor, reminded her that he was a very handicapped one.

She sighed. She would just try to ignore it all. It wouldn't be so bad. At least her ass would be comfy, she thought wryly, and the shower bench might make shaving her legs easier. She grabbed the frame of the bench and pulled on it, but the suction cups that anchored the legs inside the tub resisted. Still, all she would have to do was break the suction and the bench would come right out. There was no need to freak out about it all—and no need to be a bitch about it. She could be mature. After all, she was twenty-fucking-five years old.

She turned on the ventilation fan so that the bathroom wouldn't get too steamy, got a towel from the linen cabinet, and took off her clothes. She got the bench out of the shower with no problem, got the water temperature adjusted and the shower head raised to her height, and sighed with pleasure as the hot water draped over her shoulders. She hadn't unpacked her stuff yet from the hospital, but she noticed there was already shampoo and conditioner in the shower anyway and knew they had to be Sam's. Without a second thought, she put a quarter-size dollop of shampoo in her hand and started lathering it into her hair.

It was a mistake.

The scent of the shampoo was spicy, fresh, and clean, triggering an emotion so strong in her that she doubled over, bracing her hands on her knees. She felt a tightness in her core, sort of like what she sometimes felt when she was around Jeremy, only this was much more intense. What the hell?

She felt a little shaky and quickly washed the shampoo out of her hair, not bothering with the conditioner. Have mercy. She really was a mess if she was starting to get freaked out by shampoo.

After she finished showering, she secured a towel around herself, tried to ignore the scent of Sam's shampoo that still lingered in her hair, and put the bench back in the tub exactly like she found it. In the process, her towel slipped off and fell to the floor before she could catch it. She was about to retrieve it when she caught sight of herself in the mirror and froze.

The mirror was still a bit steamy despite the ventilation fan, but not so much that she couldn't see the body reflected in it. It was Other TJ's body, not hers. About the only good thing she could see was that she was thin. She had lost a lot of weight while in the coma, along with muscle mass, and she looked kind of like one of those emaciated runway models. Not that she was even near pretty enough to be a model, but she was skinny. She was the kind of skinny she'd fought her entire life to be. This time, she vowed to herself, I won't gain it back.

The bad news was that scars marred her skin everywhere in all shapes and sizes. Some were old, some new. There was a perfectly vertical, faded one about one and a half inches long under her breastbone. There were four scars in the shape of small, solid circles—one that she knew was from the feeding tube that had been in her stomach and was still healing. There was a long, thin, reddish, horizontal scar just above where her pubic hair began. She knew from her cousin Sherma Lynn, who had to have a cesarean section when she'd had her son Charlie, that it was probably the scar where they'd taken the twins out. And last but not least, there was the scar on her neck from the tracheostomy. It was healing nicely and probably wouldn't be too visible once it was completely healed, but, nevertheless, it was part of the collection.

She had taken showers at the hospital but avoided looking at herself in the mirror, afraid of who she would see looking back at her. Besides, at first, when she was so weak, there was a nurse to help her and she'd been distracted. This was the first time she'd really taken stock of her body.

In addition to the scars, she noticed stretch marks in the area of her lower abdomen and hips, probably courtesy of being pregnant. Just fucking great.

She traced the scars and then ran her finger over the silvery-looking stretch marks. The scars and stretch marks were like a road map of her life for the last six years, a map that she couldn't read. Most of the scars were a mystery to her. What had happened to her? What had she been through?

It was suddenly all too much, and she lost it again for the second time that day. She started crying, the kind of crying that was noisy and embarrassing and made her throat hurt. She just stood there, staring at herself in horror, face crumpled and tears cascading down her cheeks.

She wasn't sure of how much time passed when there was a knock on the door. "TJ?" It was her mother's voice.

TJ didn't answer, just shook her head, although no one was there to see but her.

"TJ, hon, open the door."

TJ tried to pull herself together and grabbed a tissue off the vanity. She wiped the tears from her face and blew her nose, but she was still crying, and a new batch of tears and snot replaced what she had wiped away. Her nose was getting so stopped up she had to breathe through her mouth.

"Please, TJ. Open the door, baby girl."

TJ almost choked on a sob but managed to get out, "I'm okay, Mama."

"No, you're obviously not." The door suddenly opened, and TJ cursed herself for not locking it. Her mother walked into the bathroom.

"What's wrong, sugar?" Ferna Sue asked with a worried frown. She picked up TJ's towel and wrapped it around her, securing it like a sarong over TJ's chest, since TJ could do nothing but pathetically stand there bawling. Finally, TJ got control of herself and sat against the edge of the vanity. She grabbed another Kleenex and dabbed at her eyes.

Fern cupped TJ's chin with her finger and lifted TJ's face. "Tell Mama what's wrong."

TJ was still taller than Fern, despite sitting against the vanity, but that didn't mean she was too big to receive her mother's comfort. She wrapped her arms around Fern, and Fern put her arms around TJ and held her. TJ felt like a child again, and it was soothing. She loved her daddy and would always be his little girl, but there was no love on the planet that compared to her mother's.

After a few minutes, she leaned back but didn't say anything.

Fern grabbed a washrag from the linen cabinet, dampened it with warm water, and cleaned TJ's face. "Now, sugar, you wanna tell me what brought that on? Did everything just hit you like a ton of bricks?"

TJ half-shrugged and sniffed. "Something like that." Her voice was a little hoarse.

"You can talk to me, TJ. You know that."

TJ sighed. "I—I..." She felt a blush coming on.

"Tell me, honey. I'm your mother."

"I, um, saw—there's all these scars on me, Mama. Was I sick or something? I don't mean, you know, everything that's happened as a result of the twins. Was I sick another time? Or was I maybe in a car accident or something?"

Fern's mouth tightened and she focused on a point beyond TJ, like she was searching for the right explanation. Then she put her hands on TJ's shoulders and gave her a direct look. "You had—when you were a freshman in college, TJ—probably even earlier than that—you developed an eating disorder."

TJ's mind raced, remembering her occasional binge eating. She swallowed a hard lump in her throat. Oh, God. How much did they know?

"You were diagnosed as bulimic with anorexic tendencies," said Fern. "Do you know what that means?"

TJ wasn't totally sure what it meant, but she had a pretty good idea. She felt her face grow hot with embarrassment, and she looked down and fidgeted with the Kleenex in her hand.

Fern cupped TJ's chin again and made TJ look at her. "It means that you would starve yourself like an anorexic, and then you would get so hungry you couldn't stand it anymore, and you would binge. Then you would make yourself vomit—violently so."

TJ's stomach twisted into a knot, and it felt like her face was now flaming. "Oh, God."

"It was...a very difficult time."

TJ fidgeted with her Kleenex again.

Fern took TJ's face in her hands, her green eyes fierce and penetrating. "You beat it, TJ. You were released last summer from therapy. Do you hear? You were in recovery."

TJ's eyes started to tear up—again. "And everyone knows?"

Her mother's lips pursed. "Just the people closest to you."

TJ snorted. "I have no idea who that could be. Does Jeremy know?"

"I don't think so, unless you told him without me knowing. This all happened after you went to college in San Diego, and you didn't seem to be as close to Jeremy after that."

TJ hoped Jeremy didn't know. She didn't want him to think she was a freak—at least, more of a freak than she already was with the amnesia. "So, I suppose Sam knows."

Fern brushed a lock of TJ's drying hair off her cheek. "Yes," said Fern. "Sam knows. The worst of it happened the semester before you graduated with your bachelor's degree. Sam helped you through it. I think he's part of the reason you were able to overcome the bulimia once and for all." She smiled. "He was with you every day when you were in the hospital for the rupture. That was before you started dating, when y'all were still just friends. It was a hard time for you, but he always seemed to be able to cheer you up."

Yet another story about how wonderful Sam was. TJ didn't want to talk about him anymore, so she changed the subject. "You mentioned a rupture. What are you talking about?"

Fern sighed. "The vomiting caused a tear—a rupture—in your esophagus. You could have died if Sam and Bobby hadn't found you unconscious in your apartment. You had to have surgery and were in the hospital for two and a half weeks."

TJ let that soak in. Surgery and two and a half weeks in the hospital. It was hard for her to comprehend. She'd never been sick a day in her life. "Who's Bobby?"

"Bobby Singer. He's like a surrogate father to Sam and Dean. He lives in South Dakota. He came to see you while you were still in the coma, at the hospital in San Diego. He hasn't been able to make it to Kentucky yet, but I'm sure he will someday. He loves Sam—and you. He's who Robby is named after.

"Both of Sam's parents are dead," Fern explained further. "His mother died when he was a baby. He never knew her."

TJ felt a twinge of compassion but tamped it down. She didn't want to feel sorry for Sam, didn't want to care.

"Sam's daddy was killed in a car accident about a year before Sam got hurt."

"You mean before Sam was paralyzed?"

"Yes."

"What happened to him, Mama?"

Fern gave a sad little smile that held a hint of apology. "I think you should ask Sam that. It's his story to tell."

"I can't ask him that."

"Why?"

"I don't know. It just doesn't seem right. I hardly know him. It seems rude or weird to ask him about what happened, like it might be something painful to talk about."

Fern didn't disagree, and her expression was grim. "Ask him. It won't be an easy conversation, but you two should talk about it. He's your husband, TJ. You shared everything with each other. You were so close—closer even than you and me."

TJ couldn't imagine being closer to Sam than she was to her mother. She told Fern everything. Well, almost everything. Obviously, she hadn't told her about having sex with Jeremy or the binge eating. She felt a stab of shame. How could she have developed an eating disorder? She'd thought about making herself barf many times when she was overcome with oppressive guilt after binging, but she'd never gone through with it—at least, not that she remembered. She rubbed through the towel at the now-healed scar she'd seen under her breastbone.

Fern nodded, seeing where TJ's hand was. "That scar is from the surgery to repair the rupture. You also had to have two chest tubes for drainage and tubes in your stomach and small intestine. That's what the smaller round scars are from."

TJ was suddenly angry. "God, it just keeps getting better and better. What else happened to me? What else has Sam helped me through?"

Fern looked taken aback for a second, and then she gave TJ an admonishing look. "None of what happened to you is Sam's fault. You're not blaming him, are you?"

TJ didn't like Fern siding with Sam, even if Fern might be right. "Oh, and the twins aren't his fault?"

Fern arched her brows. "Well, he didn't make them all by himself. It takes two to tango!"

"Whatever. The point is, if it weren't for Sam, my life wouldn't be so fucked up right now. I never would have gotten pregnant and I never would have had the stroke and I wouldn't have fucking amnesia!"

"Watch your language, missy."

"He's a stranger," TJ reiterated, ignoring her mother's scolding. "I feel nothing for him, and I feel nothing for the twins. I can't be their mother. I can't be his wife. Don't ask me to do that. Don't make me." She was pleading now. "Please, Mama. It's all too much. I just graduated from high school, for God's sake." She choked on a sob and pressed her fingers to her mouth, refusing to cry yet again. "I'm getting ready to go off to college. I'm only eighteen."

Fern's eyes brimmed with tears and her chin trembled. She took TJ into another embrace, hugging her tightly. "I know," she whispered. She held TJ for a long time and then pulled away, looking TJ in the eye. "I know that's how you feel, TJ, but the reality is that you're not eighteen. You're a woman now with responsibilities. You have to accept that."

TJ shook her head. "No."

"Yes," Fern insisted. "You can't go back in time."

"I'm not going back in time," TJ retorted, frustrated. "I never left."

"I know all this is hard, hon, but spend some time with Sam and the twins. Just see what it's all about. You'll never get to know them if you're never in the same room with them."

"No."

"TJ, you're not being reasonable."

"Nothing is reasonable or makes sense anymore. Why do I have to be?"

Fern drew in a deep breath and exhaled, like she was trying to find patience. When she spoke, her voice was calm. "Those babies are a blessing, TJ, and so is what you had with Sam. Give him a chance. He's an amazing young man and a wonderful father. Don't throw it all away. It would be the biggest mistake of your life."

TJ crossed her arms petulantly and refused to look at Fern.

"You love him, TJ. You might not remember it right now, but the way you felt about him—Lord, I've never seen you so happy. It's still in you somewhere. It has to be because I'll never believe that a love that strong could be erased by anything. He's the love of your life."

TJ shook her head obstinately. Jeremy is the love of my life.

"Yes, he is," Fern insisted, unaware of what TJ was thinking about Jeremy. "And you wanted those twins—so much so that you were willing to die for them. Sam and those babies, they were your whole world."

TJ stood there, arms still crossed. Her mother wasn't listening, and TJ was tired of trying to make her understand.

A heavy pause stretched between them. When Fern spoke again, her voice was all business. "We'll give you some time to try to adjust to being home, but after that, you'll be expected to help Sam with Robby and Sami Joy. They need their mother, and you need to learn how to take care of them. School starts in another month, and I'll have to go back to teaching. I'm not gonna be here, and Sam can't take care of them and work on his law stuff full time. He already has too much on his plate. You need to help out."

TJ wondered what her mother meant by "law stuff," but she didn't want to give Fern the satisfaction of asking.

Fern opened the bathroom door. Before stepping into the hallway, she said in a stern voice, "You stay away from Jeremy, too. I don't want him comin' around here."

TJ was outraged. "How can you say that? He's my best friend. He's been my best friend my whole life. You and Daddy love him like a son!"

Fern cocked her head to one side, a dry, disapproving twist to her mouth. "Well, you weren't lookin' at Jeremy like a friend earlier, and I'll tell you right now, I better not ever see you kiss him again, especially not in front of Sam."

TJ rolled her eyes and huffed angrily. "Lord, Mama. It was just a peck on the cheek!"

"I'm not blind, and I know somethin' was goin' on between you two that last year you-all were in high school. I don't know what Jeremy's playing at right now, but let him go, TJ. He is not the man for you."

TJ clenched her teeth.

"It's time for supper. That's what I came to tell you. Get yourself dressed. I expect you at the table in fifteen minutes." Fern shut the door gently and was gone.

TJ was livid. She almost flipped the bird at the closed door, but something in her just couldn't do it, even if her mom wouldn't see. Instead, a guttural noise of impotent fury escaped her. She threw her tissue unnecessarily hard at the trashcan, but it was really hard to make much of a show of anger with a damp Kleenex.

She stalked into her room, found her toiletry bag sitting in front of her dresser, and grabbed her shampoo out of her bag. Then she stalked back to the bathroom, yanked Sam's shower chair out of the shower, and got back in, turning on the water. Quickly wetting her hair, she squirted a huge dollop of her own shampoo into her palm and savagely massaged it into her scalp.

She didn't care if she was late for supper. She was gonna wash the smell of Sam Winchester out of her hair if it was the last thing she did.

TBC