Elizabeth Finn - Unforgiven

He was pushing into her, distending her and slowly forcing his way up into her body. There was nothing quite like the filling sensation as he entered her body. She just watched him in the mirror over her shoulder. His hands were on her hips, and her palms were on the counter. His grip was tight, and he was holding her in place as he moved up into her.

She was quite certain she had no business allowing this to happen when she was so thoroughly confused about her place in his life, but with his erection planted firmly in her gut, there was no denying him. His eyes were intense, his expression was likewise, and as he pulled out, almost leaving her, his expression didn’t change. This was calculated torture—blissful torture.

“Who were you talking to on the phone?” He pushed slowly into her again as he spoke.

She groaned. “Harold. My PO.”

“What were you talking about?” He slid gently back out again. She said nothing for a moment, and he sank back into her core. “Answer me.” He pushed marginally deeper, and it ached as he pushed her limits.

“Darren!” It was strangled as it came out.

“Tell me.” He froze in place, waiting. The fullness was almost painful but so incredible.

“He asked if I was returning to Memphis.” Darren’s lips twitched in a snarl for a moment before he pulled out of her entirely. His teeth nipped her earlobe, and she started panting. She was empty, and she hated it. He was trying to drive her insane, and he was doing a damn fine job at it.

“And what did you tell him?” He pushed just the head in, teasing her entry.

“Please.” She wasn’t begging him to stop questioning her; she was begging him to fuck her, and she expected he knew it perfectly well.

“No. What did you tell him?”

“I said I didn’t know.” She forced herself to hold his eyes. His nostrils flared as he inhaled deeply.

“Don’t you?” He inched in as he studied her and waited for a response.

“No.” He pulled her hips back as he ground his pelvis against her bottom.

He stilled, studying her, and she watched as he swallowed over a lump in his throat. She had no idea what he was thinking, but after he stared at her for a few moments, he gave up whatever the fight was, if one could call it that, and he started plunging, pounding, and forcing himself up into her. She kept her palms in place, and he used one hand to tease and rub her clit, while his other gently gripped the front of her neck, holding her body still with his chest to her back. He watched her in the mirror, never looking away from her eyes as he humped. She could feel his breath against her neck as his breathing sped and lurched. Hers did too, and when his jolting thrusts put her over the edge, and his fingers that were stroking her sent her mad, she collapsed against the countertop, spasming in torrents of pleasure. He thrust hard to her center one last time, and with gritted teeth and a pained look on his face, he came inside her.

He was bent over her collapsed body, breathing against the back of her neck. She could feel his chest rising and falling against her back, and she could feel the steady beat of his heart as he relaxed.

“Stay.” He stood, stepping away from her and moving beside her, clutching the edge of the countertop in his hands. He stared at his own reflection as he waited for her to say something. He looked horrified or maybe terrified. Whatever it was, it wasn’t happiness.

She righted her posture. She hated this. She loved him. She wanted him, and he was asking her to stay. She could have what she wanted. He was standing there, watching, waiting for her to give in, but there was no ignoring what wasn’t being said.

“Do you forgive me? Have I suffered enough to make up for what I took from you?” Her voice was shaky, and she could barely look at him. She swallowed over a lump in her throat, and she could feel her brow wrinkling. She waited, knowing this was going to hurt.

“I. . .” He shook his head as though he were stunned, confused. “I’m not angry . . . anymore. I don’t want to hurt you. I just. . .” His voice was lurching, and he was breaking her heart. It wasn’t what she wanted to hear—what she needed to hear. She hadn’t expected it would be.

“No, it’s fine. I understand. I shouldn’t have asked.” Her words were rushed out quietly as the knot in her stomach left her wanting to double over in pain. But rather than share her pain, she stood beside him for a moment. His body was rigid, and she was chewing viciously on the inside of her cheek to keep her reaction calm. “It’s okay.” She turned and walked out. It wasn’t okay, and it was never going to be.

She tossed a T-shirt on, and she escaped downstairs. Soon she had coffee brewing as she stood stunned and disheartened in his kitchen. He’d not come down yet, but she knew he wouldn’t be long. He was cutting it close to get to the hospital on time, and when he finally appeared, he looked as awful as she felt. He approached her as she stood at the counter. He fidgeted for a moment, stuffing his hands in his pocket as he looked at the floor.

“Will you be here tonight?” He’d never once asked her that question since he brought her back here. It was assumed, and he didn’t question it. She nodded, but she was struggling to look at him. He kissed her forehead quickly before he turned and walked away.

She had Michelle on the phone the moment she heard him start his car.

“What is wrong with me?”

“You’re fabulous. You have, however, been through a lot lately, so if you’re expecting me to rail against you and pick out all your flaws, you picked the wrong friend to call.”

“You’re my only friend. My options were limited.”

“Honey, I’m thrilled you’re so conscious after a week of being a zombie, but I hate what you’re asking. I love you. I think you’re amazing, and I can’t imagine where this is coming from.”

“Darren and I—”

“I should have known.” She groaned.

“He wants me to stay, and he’s been amazing this past week. But . . . well, I just had to ask. And now I’m miserable.”

“Ask what?”

“If he’d forgiven me.”

She listened to Michelle inhale deeply, and it was many long seconds before she responded. “Do I want to know how he responded?”

“I wouldn’t be miserable if he’d said yes.”

Michelle groaned in frustration. Bailey understood how she felt. “I don’t understand that man! He loves you so much. There isn’t a single doubt in my mind, but he is just . . . just—”

“Hurting.”

“I was going to say in denial. And hurting, I suppose.” She was silent for a moment. “I’m sorry, Bailey.”

It was Bailey’s turn to be silent for a moment. “Michelle, I can’t stay without it.” Her eyes teared as she said it. She hated what she was saying.

“I know you can’t.” Michelle’s voice was quiet.

“I can’t wonder when he will, if he will. I can’t spend my life hoping he can find it in himself to. It’s not a matter of whether I deserve it or not. I just can’t live like that. If I stayed, I would just be waiting for it to fall apart. And knowing us, it would fall apart in a spectacular disaster.”

“You shouldn’t have to go through that just because you love him. What are you going to do?”

“Harold is coming over this afternoon at three. I’m going to tell him then that I intend to go back to Memphis.”

“You don’t have to go back to Memphis. You don’t have anyone there. Move in with me.”

“If I’m here, I’ll see him. If I see him, it’ll torment me. I can’t.”

There was little else to say, and by the time they hung up, Michelle sounded as sad as Bailey felt. Time to run away again. Nothing had changed. They were still destined to destroy one another. How could nothing ever change for them?

“Are you prepared to lose her today?” He stood stunned, still with a stethoscope to old Jerry McHenry’s chest as Michelle tore the curtain back. “Well? Are you?” Her voice was shrill, and her arms were crossed on her chest. She stood there tapping her foot on the floor as he tried to figure out what the hell was going on.

“You realize this is restricted access? How did you get back here?”

“I told the nurse I felt faint.”

“And do you feel faint?”

“Yes, now that you mention it, I do.” It wasn’t Michelle. Jerry was a frequent flyer. He was also the world’s biggest hypochondriac. Darren could suggest just about any malady to the man, and he’d be certain he was dying of it within five minutes.

“Jerry, you came in concerned that a splinter was gangrenous—which it’s not, by the way.” Then turning back to Michelle, he cocked his head, waiting for some sort of explanation as to why she was barging in on him.

“Fine, I’m not faint. But I will be if you are this stupid!” He studied her, refusing to feed her crazy until she started explaining herself. “Her old PO is coming over at three this afternoon, and she’s going to tell him she’s going back to Memphis! And do you know why she’s going back to Memphis?”

His face dropped, and he muttered, “I think I have an idea.”

“Well, is your idea that you’re an idiot? ’Cause guess what? You’re an idiot!” Michelle suddenly harrumphed, turned on her heel, and stormed away from him.

“I think that girl might have been crazy, Dr. Cory. Is she from the mental ward?”

“We don’t have a mental ward, Jerry, but she is most definitely crazy.” He struggled to get through the next thirty minutes with Jerry as his splinter issue turned into concerns that he might have West Nile virus, or Ebola, or hell, anthrax poisoning. And once he’d discharged the man, he escaped to the doctor’s lounge, grabbing his cell phone and flopping down on the couch.

“She’s leaving. She’s leaving because I don’t know how to forgive her. Hell, what does it even mean anyway? I care about her. I love her. I want her to be happy, and safe, and cared for, and not one ounce of who I am now wants her to suffer or feel guilty. Why isn’t that enough?” He was speed talking, and his mother was letting him.

“Oh, Darren.” She sounded sad. Of course she sounded sad. Her son was acting like a child again who couldn’t figure out how to function in the world.

“What do I do? Tell me because I can’t lose her again.” He was pleading for help. He was lost, and he felt as though his life was crumbling from beneath him.

“Darren, what makes you think you haven’t forgiven her already?”

“Oh gee, I don’t know. The fact that I acted like an ass when she asked me if I had. I started stuttering like a fool, and I couldn’t figure out what to say. I’d say that’s a good sign I’m not ready to forgive her.”

“You need to understand something. Forgiveness isn’t an emotion. It’s an action, and it’s a choice. It’s the choice to not let the past affect how you feel about her. If you’re waiting for some emotional epiphany, it’s not going to happen.”

“I love her—as much now as I ever have. That’s how I feel about her.”

“Then what makes you think you haven’t already made the choice to forgive her? You know, your forgiveness of her isn’t linked to your own healing. You’re still healing, and frankly, you’re a bit behind schedule because you weren’t willing to deal with any of it until she came back.” There was a sarcasm to her voice that had his mouth pulling up slightly. She was oh so very right about that. “You’re sad when you think about your sister. I understand that. It doesn’t mean you’re not able to forgive Bailey. It doesn’t have to affect the way you feel about her.”

“It doesn’t—not at all. I believed it did. I thought it was supposed to, but . . . it just doesn’t. I can’t stop loving her even when I try.”

“Sometimes I feel like you’re waiting to stop hurting—like your pain makes you think you’re incapable of forgiving her. You’ve linked these things as though you can’t have forgiveness for her until you’re whole again. The two just aren’t related, Darren.”

“I want to forgive her.” His voice was quiet.

“Then I’ll ask you again, what makes you think you haven’t already? Seems to me you have this forgiveness thing in the bag. I mean, you’ve gone from loathing her to loving her in a matter of months, and while it’s been rocky, you’re still here fighting for her, and she’s still here too. You need to give yourself more credit, and you need to work on your self-awareness skills.” Sarcasm again, and he let himself smile that time.

He chuckled for a moment. His heart was thumping, and the tension was tight in his chest. The one thing he needed in life was being threatened, and he felt as though he might lose his mind if he lost her again. But he just wasn’t sure he could do this. Love her, piece of cake. Forgive her, it was apparently a concept he was still trying to understand.