Fighting to Forget by Jenika Snow Page A

him, and stared at the ceiling. “I want that, too.” She looked over at him. He was staring at the ceiling, too, his jaw locked tight as he looked deep in thought. “I love you, Larson, I really do,” she said softly, and when he looked at her Tasha’s heart jumped in her throat.
    “I love you, too, baby, and everything will work out because I’ll make sure it does.” He kissed her on the forehead, and she loved this gentleness in him. “I meant it when I said I wouldn’t let anyone or anything take you away from me, not even me. I swear I’ll be a good man to you, make sure you’re safe.”
    Good, because thinking of Larson not by her side was painful, and she didn’t want to have to go through that, not now that she knew he felt the same way for her.

Chapter Thirteen
     
    When he came to there was a beeping sound beside him, maybe the reason he woke up in the first place. Larson turned his head and stared at the blood bag hanging from the IV pole, followed the red tube all the way down to his arm, and saw the blood was being transfused into him. He looked around, saw that he was clearly in a hospital room, and then everything came rushing back to him. Before he could get up a nurse was by his side, her hand on his arm, her touch soft.
    “Relax. You’ve been through a lot.”
    “My wife,” he croaked out.
    Her smile faded, and sympathy filled her expression. “I’m sorry, but your wife didn’t make it.”
    He closed his eyes, already knowing as much, but a small part of him knew the truth. “The other man,” he mentioned Haines, knew that he’d killed him, or at least he hoped he had, but he needed confirmation.
    “The police will be in once you’re feeling better. They’ll talked to you about everything, and then a social worker can speak with you if you feel you need … to talk to someone.” She said the last part empathetically.
    “Just tell me,” he said in a harder voice, looked at her with hard eyes, and wasn’t about to jump through hoops just to get the information he wanted and needed. “I need to know, please.” He said the last part in a softer tone.
    She didn’t answer right away, but he could tell by her expression she’d tell him whatever he wanted because she felt sorry for him. He hated that, hated the pity on her face.
    “Yes, the other man has passed away. But don’t think about any of that right now.”
    She checked a few things on his IV pole, his chart, then patted his hand and left him alone.
    He wanted to just get out of this fucking bed, leave the hospital, and never look back. Scrubbing his hand over his face, felt the beard across his cheeks and jaw, and just relaxed, or tried to. Dropping his hand to the bed, it gave a thump as it hit the mattress. He knew he should feel some kind of relief that the man that had taken everything from him was gone. But all he felt was this emptiness, this sorrow and darkness that slowly filled him. He’d never be the same, he knew that, and he embraced it.
    ****
    It had been a week since they’d been together sexually, and although Larson still wanted Tasha so fucking fiercely, he also didn’t want her just for sex. Tonight he’d invited her over, made them dinner, and now she was sitting on his couch in front of the TV. There was some rerun on, a movie about a boy that got lost, a woman found him, and the boy’s father ended up with the woman. It was sappy as hell, a total “chick flick” but she’d turned it to the show, and he liked that she’d made herself at home.
    He grabbed a glass of wine for her, a beer for himself, and left the kitchen to head to the living room and sit beside her. “Anything good?” he asked, although he knew this movie from the late nineties was not something a man would probably watch. Maybe that was sexist, but he wouldn’t have chosen it as cinematic entertainment. Still, Tasha could do whatever she wanted. He’d hold her close, smile, and keep his mouth shut.
    She looked at him,