A/N: Thanks to Catsluver for pushing me to get the emotions right, and thanks to skzb for taking time out of your busy schedule to read this.

Thanks to all of you who read and review this story. You make my week!

Chapter 18

Wings of Desire.

The name of the film elicited a strong feeling in TJ. What was the significance of it? When she closed her eyes, she saw...dinner rolls. What the hell? Even worse, the vision or whatever it was made her hungry.

Was the movie one she had seen? It didn't seem like the type of movie she would want to see, especially if that god-awful song was part of the soundtrack; but, then again, she never would have believed it if someone had told her six years ago she would be married to a guy that wasn't Jeremy—a paraplegic guy, no less. She was living Other TJ's life now, not her own. Who knew? Maybe Other TJ liked foreign films. Or maybe she was imagining all of it, and the name of the movie meant nothing.

Jeremy combed his fingers through her hair and traced the lines of her jaw with his thumbs. "Now, where were we?" he asked with a suggestive smile. Then he leaned in again, pressing his lips to hers.

She tried to concentrate on the feel of his mouth. This was what she wanted, wasn't it? But she couldn't get past the smell of the marijuana. It was pungent and overpowering. She pushed on his chest. "I'm sorry. I—I think I need to go home."

He let out a breath, bathing her in the weed smell, his lips flapping like a horse chortling. Then he plopped down on the sofa.

She felt drained and was getting more irritated by the minute. He didn't look like he was about to get up and take her home anytime soon. "Jeremy, please. I'm really tired."

He reached out and tugged on her wrist, trying to pull her down to the sofa. She yanked it out of his grasp. "Dang it, Jeremy. I just got out of the hospital today, for cryin' out loud. Take...me...home," she enunciated.

His lids were heavy, and he giggled.

She rolled her eyes. His giggle wasn't the most manly thing she'd ever heard. "You were high as a kite when you came and got me, weren't you?"

"It's not a big deal."

It was to her, but she didn't feel like arguing. "Fine. I'll walk." She didn't want to, wasn't even sure her body would make it another mile, especially by herself with no adrenaline from being near Jeremy to fuel her energy. She definitely wasn't a hundred percent. She was getting mad, though, and she had no patience for Jeremy in his current state. She turned toward the door.

He grabbed her wrist again. "I thought you wanted to talk. I know you had a rough day."

"This was a mistake."

He seemed to sober up a little. "Fine," he said, sounding peevish. "I'll take you back on the big boy."

"You still have that thing?"

He shook his head, his mouth tight. "It's not the same one."

Of course it wasn't. She felt stupid for asking. The last "big boy" he had was an all-terrain vehicle that looked like a cross between a golf cart and a four-wheeler. She wondered if the new one was similar. Lots of farmers used ATVs around their farms to haul around dirt, brush, equipment, and anything else they could find to use it for.

"Come on, then," he said, impatience in his voice. "Let's go."

She was incredulous and indignant at his tone. She was the one who was mad. "Are you ticked at me because I'm just exhausted and want to go home?"

"I'm not mad," he said, but his gray eyes were cool. He turned his back to her as they left the parlor and made his way through the living room.

Yep. She knew him, and this was definitely Jeremy giving her the cold shoulder. She exhaled, frustrated, and followed him. "Jeremy—"

"Shh!" he hissed in a whisper. "You're gonna wake up my mom."

As if on cue, a soft, womanly voice came from upstairs. "Jeremy? Is that you?"

He closed his eyes. "Shit." Then he glared at TJ while he answered his mother. "Yeah, Mama. It's me."

What was his problem? TJ didn't think she'd been that loud. It wasn't her fault his mom was awake.

A light came on and then Liv started coming down the curved stairs.

"Don't freak out if she doesn't know you," he said in a low voice to TJ, his eyes traveling over her. "You look a lot different, especially since the last time she saw you."

TJ looked down at herself. What did he mean by that? Was it bad? How different was she, exactly, besides the fact that she was thinner than she'd ever been in her life—well, that she remembered. Had she aged that much? She didn't think she looked that much older. She hadn't seen that many new wrinkles, just the scars and stretch marks, and the only one of those that showed was the one in her neck where the trach had been. She was glad Jeremy couldn't see the rest of them.

Her hair was long and had no particular shape, but it wasn't really that different than she remembered. Who knew when she'd last had it fixed, although someone must have trimmed it at some point while she was in the coma. It wasn't too far past her shoulders, which was how she usually wore it. She wished she had a ponytail holder with her.

Liv slowly descended the stairs like a movie star, wearing a silky, pale-blue robe. Her thick black hair was in a braid and lay over one shoulder. She was still beautiful and looked much younger than her age. There wasn't a streak of gray in her hair, but TJ figured she probably dyed it.

Liv stared at TJ, her deep blue eyes sparkling. "Do we have a guest, Jeremy?" she said in a genteel drawl.

He cleared his throat. "Yes, Mama. It's Nelly—TJ."

There was a beat of silence, and then Liv broke into a charming smile that left no doubt where Jeremy's came from. "Of course it's TJ." She held out her arms. "Come give your Aunt Liv a hug."

TJ beamed back, relieved and touched that Aunt Liv recognized her, and walked into the embrace. Liv hugged her for a long time. She wasn't as tall as TJ, but she wasn't tiny like TJ's mom, either.

When they broke apart, Liv still held onto TJ's arms. "Let me look at you, sweet girl."

TJ felt awkward at Aunt Liv's perusal of her.

"You're so thin."

"I—I've been...sick."

Liv tilted her head to one side and frowned, looking bemused.

Jeremy spoke up. "Remember, Mama? I told you that TJ had some trouble when she was pregnant with twins. She had a stroke. She was real sick there for a while—in a coma."

Liv took TJ into another embrace. "Oh, baby girl. Bless your heart. I do recall hearin' something about that." Again, she looked TJ over. "You know, you're thin, but it looks good on you."

TJ couldn't help but feel lighter at the compliment and smiled. "Thank you, Aunt Liv."

Liv looked back at Jeremy. "Did you say twins?"

He nodded, eyeing his mother warily, his shoulders stiffening. "Yes, Mama. Remember I told you Nelly got married? You met her husband at church one Sunday. He's the guy confined to the wheelchair."

For some reason, that rubbed TJ the wrong way. It didn't seem right to define Sam by his wheelchair or to say that he was "confined" to it. She didn't think anything or anyone could ever confine him, although she didn't know why she thought that. "He has a name," she blurted out. She sounded more defensive than she'd intended and cleared her throat. "His name is Sam."

Liv looked like she didn't comprehend, and Jeremy just stared.

"My...husband," TJ clarified, the word feeling awkward on her tongue. "His name is Sam."

Liv looked at Jeremy, at first puzzled and then troubled. "Our TJ doesn't have a husband. She's too young. Jeremy, who is this woman?"

TJ's heart sank at Liv's sudden and abrupt delusion. She glanced at Jeremy, not knowing what to do.

Jeremy got a pained look on his face and put his arms around his mother's shoulders. "It's late, Mama. You ready to go to bed?"

Liv looked lost, eyes wide and almost childlike. Jeremy guided her toward the stairs. "I'll be back in a minute," he said, glancing over his shoulder at TJ.

TJ nodded, feeling guilty, like it was somehow her fault that she had triggered Liv's confusion.

When Jeremy came back down, his mouth was set in a tight line. "You'll have to walk home by yourself. She's still awake and she's addled. She thinks I'm my dad. I'm afraid she might wander off if I take you home."

"Okay," TJ said softly. She was bone tired. She almost thought about calling her parents but decided she needed to suck it up. It was only a mile, and there weren't that many hills. She could walk home by herself...in the dark. There wouldn't be that many creepy shadows. Still, she shivered at the thought, hugging herself, and then dismissed it. Her parents' disapproval would be much worse than having to walk home.

She looked at Jeremy, who was staring up at the stairs, a hollow look in his eyes. "I'm sorry, Jeremy." She was apologizing for Liv, for the tragic loss of the woman they all knew and loved.

When he focused on her, the expression on his face was bleak. "I don't need your pity, Nelly."

"I didn't—"

He turned abruptly away from her and proceeded robotically up the stairs.

Troubled, TJ headed for the kitchen and the back door. Her emotions were all over the place. She wondered if it was midnight yet because she was ready for this horrible day to end.

She'd been so angry—at Sam, at Rocket, at her parents, at the stupid wood floors in her house, at the universe in general—even at Jeremy for smoking pot and being a jerk. And somehow Jeremy had turned it around to where he was mad at her because she wanted to go home.

It was comforting in a way. At least that hadn't changed. Jeremy was always something of a spoiled brat if things didn't go his way. She knew to ignore him when he got like that. He'd come around sooner or later, and he'd be sweet and apologetic when he did. She was surprised, though. He'd seemed so much more mature until tonight. She'd assumed he'd outgrown that behavior and didn't like what she'd seen.

Despite all that, she felt sadness for him, remembering the look on his face at Liv's confusion, the way his shoulders had tensed because he knew what was coming, like the next thing out of Liv's mouth would be something crazy. TJ's heart went out to both of them.

She'd only walked a few feet into Jeremy's backyard when she heard the snick of the screen door behind her.

"Nelly?" Jeremy called.

She stopped and turned to look at him, arms crossed protectively. She didn't know what to expect, if he was still mad or if he was already over it. She should be miffed at him, but she couldn't get fired up after what had happened with Liv. All she felt was fatigued and drained of emotion.

He jogged up to her and held up a set of keys, his expression contrite in the glow of light from the back of the house. "Take the big boy. Hide it behind your barn. I'll come and get it when I'm sure my mom is back to sleep."

She took the keys, almost smiling. She'd known he wouldn't stay mad for long.

"It's in the shed. Come on. I'll help you get it out."

She followed him to the shed, and he started the ATV, turned on its lights, and drove it out for her. It was a bit bigger than the one she remembered, but, otherwise, it looked similar. He scooted over and she got in the driver's seat.

He started showing her where things were. "It's an automatic. Here's your gas. Here's your brake. It's just like a car. Think you can handle it?"

"Yeah," she answered softly. "I can handle it."

He gave a quick nod and then looked down, popping his knuckles. When he glanced back up at her, there was a rueful smile on his face. "I was an asshole back there, Nelly. I'm real sorry."

"Yeah, you were," she agreed, but she was half teasing him.

He nudged her shoulder playfully. There was a beat of silence, and then he asked tentatively, "So we're okay?"

Never one to hold a grudge, especially where Jeremy was concerned, she said, "Yeah. We're okay."

He reached over and rubbed her cheek with his thumb. "I've missed you so much. These last couple of years have been...hard. It's been lonely. No one really to talk to, you know?"

She smirked wryly. "You can't tell me you haven't had the company of a pretty girl in all that time."

He gazed at her intently. "No one can hold a candle to you, TJ," he said in a serious tone, and then he leaned toward her like he was going to kiss her.

He still smelled of the weed, but she held her breath, her heart about to leap out of her chest. If she'd had any doubts before that he felt something more for her than brotherly feelings, those doubts were dashed in that moment.

Everything should have been right with the world—except that it was all wrong. She suddenly grew a conscience, much to her dismay, and she got a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach.

She was married. She didn't remember Sam, but it didn't change the fact that he existed. She was ashamed at her own willingness to completely ignore that she was somebody's wife and bothered by the ease with which Jeremy ignored that fact, too. It wasn't honorable, and it was another thing that chipped away at her image of Jeremy as the perfect guy.

She turned away from him at the last second. "I—I'm sorry." She swallowed and looked at him, silently imploring him to understand. "I'm so confused, Jeremy. I don't know what's right or wrong anymore."

He dropped his hand away from her face. "You're thinkin' of Sam."

She nodded and then searched his face. "If I kiss you, am I gonna go to hell for cheating on my husband that I have no memories of and feel nothing for?"

He shrugged. "Get a divorce."

She pursed her lips, surprised and annoyed that he could be so cavalier about it. "It's not that simple."

"Why not?"

She sighed. "It's not that I haven't thought about it, but...I don't know. Maybe—I—" She ran a hand through her hair in frustration. "Like I said, I feel nothing for him, but I know he still loves me. He told me he did."

Jeremy frowned.

"Plus," she went on, pushing away the visual of Sam's haunting eyes, "my parents like him. I think they'll freak out if I ask him for a divorce. And then there's the twins. They complicate everything even more."

Jeremy scooted closer to her and put his arm around her, giving her a hug. "I don't know the answer, Nelly, but I won't push you. We can take things slow. We're good at being best friends, right?"

She was relieved that he understood. It was like old times, being with Jeremy like this. It was familiar, and she clung to it desperately, like a life-preserver in a sea of chaos. She laid her head on his shoulder.

He brushed a strand of hair away from her face. "You can tell me anything, and I'm always here if you need to talk. You know that, don't you?"

She yawned. "Yeah. Thanks, Sucks."

He ruffled the hair on the top of her head. "You're welcome, Pippi."

XXXXXXXX

TJ did as Jeremy said and parked his ATV behind the barn. As she walked around to the back of the house, she pulled her sweater tighter around her. She was cold and worn out and couldn't wait to get in her bed and snuggle under the warm comforter.

She found the spare key under the flower pot next to the steps of the back porch, relieved that the key was still there after all the time that had passed and that her parents hadn't hidden it somewhere else. Of course, any halfway decent burglar would be able to figure it out in a heartbeat.

As she went up the few steps that led up to the porch, she noticed for the first time a wheelchair ramp similar to the one in the front of the house. Distracted by it, she nearly screamed bloody murder when Sam suddenly rolled out of the shadows of the porch only a foot away from her, Rocket obediently by his side.

TJ clamped a hand over her mouth to keep from screaming, her pulse pounding.

Rocket's tail was wagging like crazy and he whimpered, training woeful eyes on her not unlike his master's sometimes, only lighter in color. She might have tripped over both Sam and the dog if Sam hadn't moved out into the dim light.

Sam's broad shoulders were back and he was gripping his wheels. He was wearing gray sweatpants and a form-fitting white V-neck T-shirt that left no doubt he had muscles—lots of them—in all the right places. His eyes were brooding, his jaw set. "Where have you been?"

Her mind raced, trying to come up with a suitable answer. She studied his face and, judging by the hard expression on it, decided he already had a pretty damn good idea of where she'd been. "Who are you, my daddy?" she quipped defiantly and turned toward the kitchen door.

In a flash, Sam reached out and caught her wrist as she passed. His touch—his calloused palm and the warmth of his hand—caused her blood to surge and made her feel antsy.

"No, I'm not your daddy," he answered quietly. "I'm your husband, and you're my wife. Don't forget that."

She snorted. "I already did. That's the problem." She tugged on her wrist, but he held it firmly.

A muscle in his jaw twitched. "What were you doing at Jeremy's?"

She shrugged, trying to act nonchalant, although her heart was galloping. "Listened to music. Talked. We're old friends. It was innocent," she fibbed. "Not that it's any of your business."

Sam's look was speculative, assessing, as if he was deciding whether to believe her or not. "It is my business. I don't want you to see him anymore."

She was incredulous and annoyed that he was bossing her around and arched her brows. "Oh, really? What is this, the 15th century? You're my husband on a piece of paper only. You don't get to tell me what to do."

Again, she struggled to get free of him. He held her firmly enough that she couldn't break his hold, but he wasn't hurting her.

His nostrils flared, his mouth in a tight line. It was clear he was holding back anger. "You're wrong, TJ. I'm much more than just your husband on a piece of paper, and I'm not giving up on us. I won't let you go without a fight."

She knew he meant it, and it scared her. "I want a divorce," she said impulsively, ignoring the fact that she'd told Jeremy she wasn't sure about a divorce not thirty minutes ago.

Sam winced, almost as if she'd struck him. "I won't give you a divorce. I'll contest it."

"Let me go." She wasn't talking about his grip on her wrist.

He shook his head, expression soulful. "Never. I can't."

"I don't love you! I feel nothing for you!"

A pained expression crossed his features, and she felt a stab of remorse for being so cruelly blunt. He was looking up at her, but he had such a presence that he was no less commanding because he wasn't standing. He was intense, and his dark eyes burned into her. "You do love me."

She laughed scornfully, trying to hide how he made her tremble. "That's pretty conceited and presumptuous of you."

He shook his head. "I'm not being conceited or presumptuous. I know you love me because we have a history together, TJ. I know you love me because you told me so a thousand times before everything got so fucked up." He paused for a second, his gaze earnest. "Trust me. I know you better than you know yourself right now."

"Don't you get it?" she said, her voice breaking a little. She fought a flood of despair. "You know someone who doesn't exist anymore."

"You're wrong."

Distracted by their conversation, she didn't notice that he'd loosened his grip on her until it was too late. He was rubbing circles with his thumb on the inside of her wrist, and the sensation of it was exquisite and mesmerizing. It was more effective at holding her in place than iron shackles would have been.

"You exist," he said. The low rumble of his voice had taken on a husky quality and rippled through her. "You're very much flesh and blood, standing right here in front of me, and I'm grateful for that gift every second of every day."

She fought against the poignancy of what he said, tried not to be moved by it, and forced herself to break contact with him, finally yanking her wrist from his grasp—and feeling cold at the loss of his touch. "Don't make this harder for everyone. Give me...a divorce." It came out less confident than she would have liked.

His look was unyielding. "No."

"If you're not careful, I'll end up hating you," she warned darkly.

His lips were curved enough that his mouth was flanked by faint dimples. "You know what they say. Hate and love are two sides of the same coin."

She felt an uncomfortable tightness in her core and was taken off guard by the easy way he brushed off her warning. It made her angrier. "Go to hell," she hissed.

He tilted his head, studying her. "What are you so afraid of? Why won't you give me a chance and get to know me? Are you afraid you might actually end up liking me, that maybe whatever misguided fantasy you have about Jeremy might be just that—a fantasy? A person can change in six years, TJ. Maybe he's not the same guy you knew before."

Was she that transparent? Admittedly, she hadn't done much to keep her feelings for Jeremy a secret, but it was like Sam knew all her about her dreams of a future with Jeremy. She thought about everything that had happened with Jeremy earlier at his house, the things she'd seen that she didn't like—his willingness to turn a blind eye to the fact that she was married, the way he'd gotten mad at her, the pot smoking—and she was aggravated that Sam had struck so close to home. Well, maybe she didn't know Jeremy as well as she once did, but she still knew him a hell of a lot better than she knew Sam.

She was tired and confused about everything and needed to think. She wanted Sam to leave her alone, to shut up. "You think you know everything about me, about how I feel—what I feel for Jeremy? Why? Because I told you about him?"

He was silent, and it was all the confirmation she needed. He did know.

It frightened her that Sam had such an advantage over her, that maybe her mother had been right and TJ had shared everything with him. Did he know her deepest thoughts and feelings, her darkest secrets? Was there nothing in her life that was still her own, that Sam didn't touch in some way?

She was enraged at the unfairness of it all and she lashed out, her tone scathing. "What did I tell you about him, Sam? Did I tell you that I was in love with him, that I've loved him my whole life? You know, you don't even compare to him. He's my best friend. He's everything I've ever wanted in a guy." She pointed her finger. "You are a stranger and a cripple. You make me uncomfortable every time I'm around you, and I don't know what I ever saw in you!"

Sam visibly flinched, and the muscles in his neck and shoulders were corded and tense. His lips were pressed together and he was gripping the wheels of his chair so hard his knuckles were white.

She knew instantly that she was way out of line and was mortified. She had spoken without thinking and didn't mean what she said. Her hands felt shaky, and she didn't even know where to begin on an apology. Nothing seemed adequate, but she had to try. "Sam—"

"Did Jeremy tell you what happened between the two of you?" Sam's voice was deceptively even and quiet. He was holding in his emotions, but TJ knew she had hurt him deeply. He was staring out at the backyard and the darkened pasture beyond, not looking at her.

She didn't answer the question. She didn't want to admit she hadn't pushed Jeremy to tell her everything because she was afraid of what his explanation would be.

"Ask him," Sam said tersely, still not looking at her. Jaw rigid, he swiveled his chair around and headed toward the kitchen door, broad shoulders stiff and proud.

TJ felt sick to her stomach and was suddenly blinded by tears of shame. Her hands were at her sides, and she felt Rocket lick her fingers, giving her a show of affection she didn't deserve, before trotting away after his master.

XXXXXXXX

"Why are you so quiet, Nelly?" asked Jeremy. The daylight streaming in through the plate glass window at Donna's Diner illuminated his eyes, turning them a pale silver, and he looked handsome and sophisticated in his dark-blue business suit. All traces of the petulance he'd shown when she was at his house the other night were gone.

TJ shrugged in answer to his question and pushed the fries around on her plate with a fork, leaving her cheeseburger untouched, even though she felt a raging hunger. Her emotions were in turmoil, and whenever she was stressed, she wanted to eat. It was getting harder and harder to resist.

It was a couple of days after her fight with Sam, and she couldn't shake the suffocating guilt she felt over what she said to him. She never should have called him a cripple. It was a shitty thing to say, and she shouldn't have thrown it in his face by comparing him to Jeremy. She couldn't even bring herself to look Sam in the eye and hadn't apologized. She was too much of a chicken and didn't know what to say.

She'd agreed to meet Jeremy for lunch, thinking it would get her mind off her troubles with Sam, but here she was, thinking about Sam with Jeremy sitting across the table from her.

She and Jeremy were attracting looks from the other patrons in the diner. She knew a lot of the people, and several had come over and spoken to her, some giving her hugs and well-wishes and praise-the-Lords for the miracle of her recovery. It was disconcerting how much older some of them looked, and she realized that six years could take its toll, especially for those whose lives hadn't been easy.

She was sure her little lunch date with Jeremy would be big news for the Moss Fork gossip mill and had no doubt her parents and Sam would eventually hear about it. The rebellious part of her said that was fine, that both Sam and her parents had to learn they couldn't have their cake and eat it too. They wanted her to take on the responsibility of a twenty-five-year-old—to be a wife and a mother—but they wanted to dictate to her who she could or couldn't see as if she were a teenager.

Her act of defiance—having lunch with Jeremy—didn't really give her much satisfaction, though. Instead, she felt a twinge of remorse for adding insult to injury where Sam was concerned. She wondered if her parents knew what she'd said to him and felt a knot in her stomach at how disappointed in her they would be. It was possible Sam might have told them, but somehow she didn't think he would. Her parents hadn't said anything to her about it, and it wasn't something they would let pass if they knew.

Jeremy reached out and put his hand on top of hers, stopping her from playing with her food. "Talk to me, Nelly. What's wrong?"

She snorted. "I think a better question would be, 'What's right?'"

Jeremy tilted his head to one side and gave her a look that said, Spill it.

She sighed. "Sam caught me sneaking back into the house after I left your place the other night."

Jeremy sat back in his chair and quirked his brows. "Uh-oh. I take it he wasn't too happy about it?"

She shook her head. "He told me he didn't want me seeing you anymore."

"And what did you say to that?"

She set down her fork and used her fingers to pick up a fry, dipped it in some ketchup, and popped it in her mouth. She almost groaned with pleasure at the taste of it.

"Come on, Nelly. Don't leave me hangin'. What did you tell him?"

She gave him a dry look. "I'm here with you, aren't I?"

Jeremy grinned. "I take it that means you told him where to shove it?"

She didn't answer right away. She didn't really want to relive the argument.

"Well, come on, girl. Tell me what you said," he prompted.

She sighed. "I told him I wanted a divorce."

He looked surprised. "I thought you weren't sure about that. I thought it was 'complicated,'" he said, using her word.

She shrugged again. "I was mad, and it just sort of came out."

"What did he say?"

"He said he'd never give me one, that he would fight it."

Jeremy's features tightened. "Well, we'll see about that."

She huffed. "What do you mean 'we'? You don't have much say in it."

He shook his head, holding her gaze. "Nelly, your problems are my problems. If I hadn't—" He stopped and glanced away.

She looked at him sharply. "If you hadn't what?"

"Nothing."

Sam's words echoed in her head. "Ask him."

She couldn't turn a blind eye any longer. It was time. "What happened between us six years ago, Jeremy? You need to tell me."

He didn't answer.

"I have a right to know."

He closed his eyes for a moment, and when he regarded her again, his expression was one of regret. "I screwed up all those years ago. I was an idiot, but—"

"What do you mean you were an idiot, Jeremy?" She tensed. "What happened?"

He got a pained look and seemed agitated. "I was an insecure jackass. I loved you, but I..." He trailed off and ran a hand through his light-brown hair like he used to when it was longer. He looked like he would suddenly rather be anywhere else than where he was right now.

She was starting to get the picture. Maybe she'd known it all along. "But you wanted to see what was out there, right?" She swallowed, feeling the old, familiar hurt. "There were other girls a lot prettier than me, and there was no shortage of them throwing themselves at you. It was always that way."

He frowned. "We were so young, Nelly, and I was a horny bastard."

"So you used me that night at the pond." She felt an ache where her heart was. "You didn't even call me after that, did you?" She felt like a fool, and she was suddenly angry. "I remember that much, Jeremy. I remember the week after. You ignored me, wouldn't return my calls. We never even dated after that, did we? My God, were we even friends after that?"

He looked down, misery etched on his face.

"Look at me."

He didn't.

"Look at me, Jeremy."

He raised his eyes slowly to meet hers.

She could feel her face getting red, could feel the heat of shame and betrayal coursing through her body. "You were my first, and you knew it. You knew how I felt about you, and you took advantage of it."

"Nelly, you have every right to hate me, but, please, let me explain."

She laughed derisively. "What's there to explain? It's the age-old story of stupid teenage girls everywhere, right? I loved you, and you didn't love me back. I gave myself to you, and it meant nothing to you. It was just one romp in the hay of many!"

He looked around. They were garnering curious looks from a few people near them. He leaned in closer to her, voice low. "It wasn't like that. I did love you, but I—it scared me, what I felt for you. I wasn't ready for a commitment. For God's sake, Nelly, we were still teenagers and we were about to leave for college. You were gonna be thousands of miles away in San Diego. I didn't want to be tied down. I didn't want a girlfriend."

She felt the sting of tears and looked up at the tin-tiled ceiling of the diner, trying to make the tears go away.

He put his hand on top of hers again. "I'm so sorry, Nelly. I never wanted to hurt you, and I've regretted it so many times. You have no idea. If I could go back and do it over, I would. There were so many times I wanted to come to San Diego and find you, but I was a coward. Then I heard you were dating someone—Sam, I guess—and I..."

"What?"

"I didn't want to ruin anything for you. I didn't think I deserved you."

"Well, that's a convenient, noble excuse, isn't it?" she said, an acerbic bite to her tone.

"It's the truth." He squeezed her hand.

She pulled her hand away and sat back. "I have to go."

"Please..."

She slung her purse on her shoulder and stood.

"Nelly, wait."

She ignored him and left the diner. As she was about to open her car door, Jeremy came flying out of the diner and jogged up to her, the flaps of his suit jacket flaring in the hot summer breeze. "Come on, TJ. Wait."

She ignored him and started to open the door.

He grabbed her arm, his face just inches from hers, his eyes silvery and intense. "I want to make it up to you. I'll do whatever it takes to prove how much I care about you."

She scoffed. "Yeah, right. Save it for the next girl you fuck."

He squeezed her arm and seemed almost desperate. "Listen to me, Nelly. I'm not the same guy I was six years ago. You hear me? I'm not the same."

She searched his face. He looked so sincere. She'd never seen him this vehement about anything before.

"If you need help fightin' Sam about the divorce, if you decide that's what you want, I'll help you." He took her face in his hands. There was no one in the world in that moment except the two of them. "I'll help you fight him, TJ. I'll hire a lawyer and do whatever it takes." He rubbed his thumb over her lips. "And if things get too weird at your parents' house, you know you always have a place to stay with me."

She stared at him, her pulse quickening.

The bell of the diner's front door dinged when someone walked out, and Jeremy dropped his hands, breaking the current of energy passing between them.

TJ opened the car door.

"You've grown into a beautiful girl, Nelly. Don't ever believe anything else."

His words moved her, made her heart swell, but she tried not to show it. She was still hurt and angry. "Always the smooth talker. Right, Jeremy?"

He cupped her chin in his fingers. "I mean it, and I'll spend the rest of my life making you happy if you let me. I'll never hurt you again."

She didn't know what to say to that and ducked into the car before he could see the heat in her cheeks, hightailing it out of there before the gossips got any more fodder.

XXXXXXXX

It was eleven-thirty in the morning, and TJ was in the abandoned kitchen. She had just gotten up and dressed and was eating cereal. She could hear her mom doing something with the twins in the "nursery" because someone was always doing something with the twins—feeding them, playing with them, changing their diapers, changing their clothes when the diapers leaked or the twins spit up, bathing them, or trying to get them to take a nap or go to bed. And all of it was made even more difficult because the twins often required all these things at different times, although she'd heard Sam and Fern talking about how great it was that the babies were finally starting to get on the same schedule. Apparently, the twins had completely exhausted both Sam and Fern the first couple of months after they were brought home from the hospital.

TJ was in the doghouse with her parents. The shit had hit the fan because, as predicted, they found out about her lunch with Jeremy. They acted like TJ had committed adultery or something. She resented them for forbidding her to see him—even though, ironically, she was extremely pissed off at him—and it made her rebel all the more. She refused to help with the twins and slept late most mornings, which was the height of laziness as far as her parents were concerned.

But she wasn't all bad. She had relented slightly and started helping out with the laundry. The amount of it that the babies produced alone was unbelievable, and she found herself doing a load every day just to keep up with them and the grown-ups in the household. Of course, she didn't get any credit for doing it. No one ever seemed to notice if she did anything good.

She knew her grace period was almost over, that her parents wouldn't tolerate her attitude much longer, and that angered her more. No one understood how painful her memory loss was, how utterly devastating. It was like they all thought she should just pick up where she left off, as though it wasn't that big of a deal and she ought to accept Sam and the twins with open arms. So, she felt sorry for herself because no one else did.

Some days she felt a crushing depression. She didn't know who she was anymore. She wasn't the confident teenager with college and an exciting future ahead of her, nor was she the mature young woman Other TJ became. She'd been so sure of things that summer before she was supposed to leave for San Diego, had known the path her life would take. Now she felt lost, like she was in limbo.

She had mixed feelings about Sam. She still hadn't apologized to him. Every time that fact started to eat away at her and she resolved to say she was sorry, he would do something that irritated her. For the first time, she knew what it must be like to have a sibling, to have competition for her parents' attention and affection. Sam could do no wrong in Fern and Vern's eyes. He had a natural curiosity and was always willing to learn whatever they wanted to teach him. He was the son they'd never had.

Sam did things with Fern that TJ had always hated, that she thought were antiquated and represented everything she was trying to escape, like helping Fern weed the garden and pick vegetables while the twins napped in the shade. He would sit on a foam gardening pad similar to the one Fern used for her knees and scoot himself around on the ground among the rows of plants with no trouble at all.

There was hardly anything he couldn't do. It turned out there were lots of things on the farm that could be done sitting down. Of course, that didn't mean that he was always sitting down.

She would never forget the first time she walked into the kitchen and saw Sam rolling out pie dough. He liked the tedious process of helping Fern can vegetables and fruit and make cherry pies—something TJ usually steered clear of. He was at the breakfast bar, his hands covered with flour, and he had on one of her dad's goofy old aprons that said "Dude with the Food." What nearly gave TJ a heart attack, though, was that Sam was standing up, and he was very, very tall.

She thought she was dreaming at first, maybe even sleepwalking since she'd just gotten up. Then, when she realized she was really and truly awake, she thought she was witnessing a miracle that everyone had forgotten to tell her about. She stood there frozen, totally in shock—speechless.

Sam looked up from his pie dough, the rolling pin looking strangely small in his large hands. He noticed her standing in front of him and frowned with concern. "TJ, are you okay?"

She still couldn't speak. She looked up at him, completely dumbfounded. She had to look up at him because he was taller than she was. That was a rare occurrence. There were very few people in Tucker County that made her feel short.

Fern, who was behind him at the stove, turned around to look at TJ, an expression of concern that matched Sam's on her face. She wiped her hands on her apron. "Is something wrong, hon? You look like you've seen a ghost."

TJ still couldn't get her mouth to work.

It was clear the second Sam realized what was going on. A grin spread across his features, but he quickly tried to hide his amusement. He cleared his throat. "I, uh, have on leg braces, TJ, under my jeans. I can stand and walk with braces and crutches." He indicated a pair of forearm crutches leaning against the counter a foot away from him that TJ hadn't noticed.

The heat of a blush began to creep up her neck. She felt like an idiot.

Fern's eyes grew big, and she looked from Sam to TJ. "Oh, you thought..." Fern showed less restraint than Sam and started laughing outright. "Oh, my goodness. That's so funny! Oh, the look on your face!" She got so tickled she could hardly talk. "It's a miracle!" she shouted in between guffaws, holding up her hands like a holy roller. "Praise Jesus! He can walk!"

TJ glowered at her mother, and Fern tried to curb her laughter without much success. She turned back to the pot she was stirring on the stove, her shoulders still shaking. TJ thought she saw her surreptitiously wipe away a tear.

Sam pressed his lips together, obviously still trying not to laugh, but his dimples were a dead giveaway. "I haven't worn my braces much lately because it's hard to take care of the twins with them on. I can't carry the twins when I'm on my crutches."

TJ had nodded, mumbled something about taking a shower, and bolted from the room.

She gritted her teeth at the memory.

Sam even liked milking the cow. TJ remembered one of the few mornings she'd actually woken up before eleven with good intentions to redeem herself. She was going to milk the cow just to be nice, even though she abhorred milking. She was always afraid of getting kicked, and it didn't matter that the cow was in a milking stall—a tight, wooden enclosure that kept the cow contained.

Milking wasn't easy. There was a technique to it—you couldn't just go in and start squeezing the teats on the cow's udder—and it often seemed like the cow didn't like TJ and wouldn't give her any milk out of spite, no matter how much grain TJ tried to bribe her with.

TJ walked into the barn with a pail and was surprised to see Sam sitting in a wooden chair with a back on it that had obviously been modified for him. It looked like the legs of the chair had been sawed off to make it low enough for him to sit and milk. His long legs were crossed at his shins like she'd seen him do when he was in the car with her, and his wheelchair was beside him. He was scooted up as close as he could get to the milking stall. The cow's calf was in the stall next to her where she could see and smell it and know that it was safe, helping to keep her calmer for the milking.

Sam's back was to TJ, and he was murmuring softly to the cow through the wooden slats in the stall as his hands reached through a square opening in the slats to the cow's udder. The fingers of one hand worked in a rhythm as he squeezed his thumb and forefinger tightly at the top of the cow's teat and then brought the rest of his fingers down one at a time in a downward motion, finally squeezing with all of them together. A nice squirt of milk was his reward, which he caught in a small plastic bowl in his other hand. When the small bowl was full, he poured the milk into the larger milking pail, which sat next to him outside the stall.

TJ had been milking all her life. It was a chore, and she wasn't very good at it. She'd always milked with the large pail sitting directly beneath the cow's udder, and she couldn't even count the number of times she'd had a cow kick over a full pail of milk. She felt like slapping her forehead with her palm for not thinking of using the small bowl like Sam was doing.

Sam did it all like a pro, made it look easy, and he'd only been doing it for a few months. She knew this because her mother constantly bragged about him and how he must have been a farmer in another life because he learned things so quickly. Gag.

Rocket, who sat perfectly still beside him, looked like he was watching Sam closely, like Sam was giving him a lesson in milking. The cow didn't even seem nervous that the dog was there, just kept lazily chewing mouthfuls of grain.

The easy, skillful motion of Sam's fingers mesmerized TJ. She could see why Faye, the dang cow, responded to Sam's velvety voice and the deft coaxing of his fingers because—Lord help her—TJ was starting to get a tingly feeling in her own nipples just watching.

Apparently, Sam sensed that he was under scrutiny. He turned to look at TJ over his broad shoulder, pausing in the milking. His expression was impassive, his jaw strong, his long hair curling slightly at his ears. He was beautiful.

TJ's heart did some sort of wild lurching thing, and her mouth suddenly went dry. How could anyone look so hot milking a cow? She hated the way her body reacted to him. It was disconcerting and left her with a longing she didn't know how to fill.

He'd never said anything to her about the night they'd fought, although she knew that she'd hurt him, and he hadn't said anything about her lunch with Jeremy. He was always unfailingly polite to her when it was called for, even though she'd been such a bitch. Otherwise, he seemed indifferent to her.

He hesitated a beat and then said, "Good morning."

She stood there like a dork, staring at him.

He waited a second for her to respond, but when she didn't, his mouth curved a little, giving her a hint of a dimple, and he turned back to his milking.

She hastily walked out of the barn on weak legs, aggravated by the effect he had on her. Maybe she really did want a divorce—maybe the sooner the better. He was driving her crazy. He did make her uncomfortable, and she was glad she'd told him so. What did she need to apologize for?

Because you called him a cripple, said her conscience.

She set down her spoon and got up from the table, carrying her half-full bowl of cereal to the sink. The knot of guilt in her stomach made it impossible to eat any more.

She wondered where Sam was. He often went to see clients or occasionally made trips to the courthouse or even the University of Kentucky's law library in Lexington, which was an hour and a half away from Moss Fork. Maybe he was off doing one of those things. She couldn't tell from the kitchen window if his black Honda was in the driveway or not, but he wasn't sitting at his laptop working and she didn't hear the rumble of his voice in the nursery with Fern. Perversely, now that he ignored TJ for the most part, she was interested in him and everything he did, no matter how much she pretended not to care or didn't want to care.

He never seemed to take time for himself. In addition to helping out around the farm and his paralegal work, he was a hands-on father and spent a lot of time taking care of the twins. He had a large, black, sling-looking thing that he wrapped around his shoulders and chest when he needed to carry both babies at the same time while in his wheelchair, and he sometimes worked on his laptop that way, the twins perfectly content swaddled next to their daddy's chest.

She wondered what he would do once the twins were too big to fit in the sling anymore, but she had no doubt he would figure something out. He obviously had no macho hangups about wearing a device that mommies usually wore, but it wasn't like he needed to worry about his masculinity. Everything he did with the twins made him seem more manly somehow, and Vern had even commented in passing that he wished he'd been more hands-on when TJ was a baby. Vern was making up for it now by being a very attentive granddaddy and had even been known to change a diaper or two.

Sam didn't sleep very much. He stayed up long after everyone else went to bed to finish up research or whatever it was he did, and she'd heard him get up often to see to the twins in the middle of the night, sometimes more than once. The twins were sleeping longer, but there were still nights they woke him—and TJ—up. And the twins never slept past five-thirty in the morning.

Sam kept the baby monitor in his room, but TJ's body seemed attuned to every noise the babies made, whether she wanted it to be or not. She could be in a deep sleep, dead to the world, and hear the twins, even with both her bedroom door and the doors to the dining room closed. She didn't tell anyone, pretending to sleep through it, but she had to admit it went against some primal instinct inside her not to answer their cries. She'd had trouble going back to sleep on more than one of these occasions—hence the reason she slept in on so many mornings like this one.

She finished washing her cereal bowl and set it in the drying rack, then glanced out the window above the sink and saw her dad pulling up in the tractor. She decided to take him a jar of iced tea as a sort of peace offering. She hated the tension that had been between them lately, especially since he had a summer cold and had been under the weather the last few days.

She grabbed the pitcher of sweet tea from the fridge and poured it in a Mason jar for her dad, then put the pitcher back in the fridge. It was a warm July day, and she had on shorts and a blue top that were both too loose. Most of her clothes were loose, and she really needed to buy some that fit. Her parents were nagging her to eat more, but she'd been good and kept the weight off. She felt like she deserved a little shopping spree. Maybe she would go into Lexington someday soon, maybe even have lunch with her friend Katrina.

Her dad's tractor was huge and was the all-purpose lifeline of the farm. Vern used it for everything—plowing and planting, baling hay, fertilization, clearing brush with the bush hog—the list was endless. It was his pride and joy, and he claimed it was nicer than any car in town.

The cab of the tractor was air-conditioned with tinted windows and even had a radio, a CD player, and a bunch of high-tech screens, knobs, and levers for using the various farm implements that would attach to the tractor. Unfortunately, Vern would also be making payments on the thing for the rest of his life.

TJ walked around the big rotary mower attached to the tractor—otherwise known as the bush hog—to where the door to the cab was, feeling dwarfed by the back tires of the tractor, which were over six feet tall. She smiled when her dad cut the ignition and the loud, vibrating diesel engine went silent. But when the door to the cab opened, it wasn't her dad that was sitting in there. It was Sam.

TJ was astonished and almost dropped the jar of tea she was carrying.

TBC