Turn My World Around

  He understood why as he stepped into the room and caught sight of the woman’s face. Vicious bruising colored one side from temple to halfway down her cheek. Her blonde hair was pulled back to reveal more bruising on the other side, along with a row of neat stitches holding together a gash near her hairline. The swelling so altered her appearance, it took him a moment to recognize her.

  “Whitney.”

  “Tucker. Thank you for coming. I hate that I’ve put so many people out.”

  “Think nothing of it. We’re all here to help.” He took a seat across from her, at the tiny desk and pulled out a legal pad to take notes.

  “Found it.”

  It was the last voice Tucker expected to hear. His chest squeezed as Corinne walked in, a tube of something in her hand.

  She stopped dead at the sight of him, stark pain flickering over her face before she got it under control. “Tucker.”

  “Corinne.” It cost him to stay put, but now wasn’t the time to address whatever was between them.

  She moved to Whitney. “This is arnica gel. It will help with the bruising.”

  Corinne unscrewed the cap and gently dabbed some of the gel onto Whitney’s face.

  The other woman winced, but held still for her ministrations. “They teach you this in nursing school?”

  Corinne met her gaze. “I learned this a long time before nursing school.” A wealth of history underscored the simple statement. History she’d never trusted him enough to share.

  “I’m going to follow up on that hunting cabin,” Judd said. “We’ll keep you posted. Once the order of protection is filed tomorrow, one of us will escort you to the house to pick up some things. Meanwhile, you’ll be safest here.”

  “Thank you,” Whitney murmured.

  “You can swing by the station to get a copy of the police report,” Judd told Tucker.

  “I’ll do that.”

  As soon as Judd left, Corinne rose, too. “I’ll give you some privacy.”

  “No!” Whitney’s hand shot out, grabbed hers. “Please stay.”

  Corinne sank back down, holding tight to Whitney’s hand. “As long as you want.”

  How absolutely unexpected.

  “It’s going to be okay. You’ll tell Tucker what happened, and he’ll file for a temporary order of protection.”

  “Temporary?” Panic made Whitney’s voice squeak.

  “In Mississippi, we can file a temporary order that lasts for ten days,” he explained. “After that, a hearing is required in chancery court to acquire something more permanent.”

  “A hearing? I’ll have to see him?”

  “Not alone,” Corinne assured her. “We won’t let him get to you.”

  “What about you? He’s still out there and he’s so angry. What if he comes after you?”

  “I don’t think he’s that stupid, but if he is, I can handle myself,” Corinne said.

  “I’m sorry, why would he come after you? And I assume the ‘he’ in question is Garrett?”

  Corinne nodded. “Because I’m the one who got her away from him.”

  “With a fireplace poker,” Whitney added.

  Garrett Harrington was a bull of a man, powerfully built like the linebacker he’d been in high school. At the mental image of Corinne facing him down with nothing but a fireplace poker, the blood drained out of Tucker’s head. Everything in him wanted to gather her up in his arms, check her for injuries, though evidence to the contrary was sitting right in front of him. He struggled for composure. “Do we need to worry about assault charges being filed against you?”

  “I didn’t hit him. If I had, we’d know exactly where he was because he wouldn’t have gotten back up.” Her voice held grim promise.

  Tucker exhaled. “Why don’t y’all start at the beginning and explain what happened?”

  So they did. He listened, taking notes, asking the occasional question to clarify. He didn’t know whether to be impressed by Corinne’s bravery or appalled at her stupidity for not immediately calling the police. Some of both. But he didn’t remark on either.

  “Are you willing to testify to what you witnessed?” he asked Corinne.

  “Absolutely. I’ll do whatever is necessary to help her sever ties with the bastard.”

  “All right. We’ll cross that bridge when we get there. You know how that process works.” He didn’t make it a question.

  Corinne angled her head in acknowledgment.

  “I’ll file for the temporary order of protection as soon as the courthouse opens in the morning, and we can go from there. You can discuss your other legal options with me, or I can make recommendations for some other good attorneys in the area.”

  “I’ll stick with you. Corinne trusts you.”

  She didn’t. Not where it mattered with them.

  “Then I’ll see you tomorrow, and we’ll decide what comes next. In the meantime, try to get some rest.” He shoved his legal pad into his briefcase and rose.

  Corinne didn’t move.

  “Aren’t you going to walk him out?” Whitney asked.

  “I—We’re not…together,” she stammered.

  Those bruised brown eyes slitted in a glare aimed squarely at him. “You idiot.”

  Tucker opened his mouth—to say what, he had no idea—but Corinne beat him to it.

  “He’s not the idiot in this scenario.”

  Did that mean she regretted walking away? Tucker quashed the surge of hope. He wasn’t about to pin anything on an off-hand remark.

  Whitney stared at her. “Please don’t tell me you chose Friday night to actually listen to anything coming out of my mouth.”

  Corinne ducked her head. “You weren’t wrong.”

  “Oh for pity’s sake. I was wrong. I was hurt and angry, and I said it to get a rise out of you. And apparently it did. Why should you ruin a perfectly good fifteen-year streak now?”

  Tucker watched this play-by-play and decided he’d never understand women.

  Whitney pointed at him with an imperious hand. “Go fix it.”

  “But you’re not settled yet—” Corinne began.

  “I’ll see to that,” Lily Mae said, coming into the room. “Whitney’s right. Go fix it.”

  Corinne looked his way, a mixture of panic and resignation on her face. “It seems we need to have a conversation.”

  So he was finally going to get that explanation? Tucker spread his hands. “I’m all ears.”

  ~*~

  Exhaustion did nothing to keep the nerves at bay as she followed Tucker back to his apartment. She wasn’t ready for this. Truth be told, she might never be ready for this, so maybe being railroaded into it was for the best. She owed Tucker an explanation. She didn’t dare hope for more than him maybe not hating her when she finished, because Whitney was right. She was an idiot.

  “Want wine?” he asked, ever the congenial host.

  “It’d put me to sleep.”

  “Okay then.” He kicked back against the kitchen counter and crossed his arms.

  For the first time since she’d known him, he didn’t turn on the stereo, so there was no music to set the tone. His usually open expression was shuttered, and Corinne had the sudden thought that she’d hate facing him from the witness stand. This wasn’t her kind, funny Tucker. She’d given him up and hurt him in the process. Now he stood, closed off and remote. A stranger.

  “I don’t know where to start.”

  “How about starting with why the fuck you thought it was a good idea to go up against a guy twice your size, who could’ve done to you exactly what he did to Whitney?”

  Corinne refused to flinch, though she recognized the foolishness of her actions. Instead, she squared her shoulders. “Because I’ve survived worse. She hasn’t.”

  He swore, low and vicious.

  She hated talking about this. But she’d opened this subject, so she might as well get it all out there. She waggled the middle fingers of her right hand. “These fingers were jammed when I tried to block
a blow. He was upset I didn’t have dinner ready on time.” At the time she’d managed to convince herself it’d been an accident. That Lance had just been gesticulating wildly, and she got caught in the crossfire.

  Holding up her left hand she said, “This wrist was broken when he shoved me back, yanking the phone away to prove I was talking to another guy. It was the cell phone company calling to offer us an upgrade.” The stunned shock of that moment still reverberated through her, but Corinne didn’t focus on it, moving instead to the next thing. “He dislocated my left shoulder when I talked back to him because he didn’t like how I’d cut my hair. And of course there were countless bruises for doing nothing more than breathing too loud or interrupting his TV time. The coup de grace was when he broke my collarbone because he said I looked at another man on the street. I left him that night with nothing but Kurt, his diaper bag, and the clothes on our backs.”

  Tucker’s hands clenched into fists but she saw no gut level shock. Neither did she see the pity she’d expected. This wasn’t news to him. He’d suspected, but he’d never pried, never asked, and he could have.

  “Is this supposed to be some kind of badge of honor?”

  She shook her head. “No. It’s evidence I knew exactly what I was getting into when I ran into that kitchen, and I knew exactly what would happen if I didn’t. I had to get her out, Tucker. Because it’s my fault she was with him in the first place.”

  His head kicked back in surprise. “How the hell do you figure that?”

  “Abuse is a self-perpetuating cycle. My parents were never violent, but they spent a helluva lot of time and effort tearing me down. They verbally abused me from the time I was Kurt’s age. Made me feel like I was never good enough, never pretty enough, never doing enough. And since I couldn’t lash out at them, I lashed out at someone weaker.”

  “Whitney? What does that have to do with us?”

  She’d have to spell it out. And then he’d know, without a doubt, who she really was. This conversation would be over in a hurry after that, and then they’d be through for good. The knowledge of that made the bad hospital coffee and vending machine crackers that had been dinner want to come back up in revolt.

  “I’m the one who started the cycle for her. I’m the one who tore her down, made her feel like less. I knew her better than anyone, so I knew exactly how to do it for the most damage. When we hit high school, I used that knowledge to get in with the popular crowd. I hurt and embarrassed her, and then over the next four years I kept doing it. I broke her, Tucker. I’m the one who primed her for that asshole to come along and prey on her poor self esteem. I’m the one who set her up for that. And when I realized it, I just couldn’t—be with you. Because I didn’t deserve something so good, so wonderful when I’d done that. I didn’t deserve you.” She wasn’t sure she deserved him now, but it wasn’t because of Whitney.

  “So this is all about some misguided sense of guilt?”

  Why wasn’t he looking appalled? “Haven’t you been listening to me?”

  “Yeah. I’m hearing you had a shitty family and an even shittier marriage. And you did some shitty things to someone who used to be a friend, and somehow you think that places the blame for her asshole’s fists on you. I call bullshit.” He shoved away from the counter. “Corinne, life isn’t a balance sheet. What we had didn’t have anything to do with Whitney.”

  What we had. Past tense.

  She didn’t flinch at that blow either, though it hurt worse than all the rest combined. You brought this on yourself. You walked away. You screwed this up. This was the only possible outcome here because you didn’t listen to the voice that mattered.

  “You’re right,” she said.

  “Come again?”

  “You’re right. You’ve been right since you slipped all those notes in my locker in high school. I didn’t deserve what was done to me. I didn’t deserve what was said. You always tried to build me up, to remind me of that. Then and now. But your voice has been drowned out by so, so many others over years. I thought if I could get Whitney out, get her away from Garrett, I’d somehow redeem myself. That it would make up for the past and make me feel like the kind of person who could be worthy of the way you looked at me.”

  “And now?”

  Now she just felt soul weary and sad. But she’d finish this and say what she came here to say. “Now I realize that in your eyes I was always worthy. It’s not your good opinion I needed to earn. It was mine. Because nothing you could say or do would ever make up for what I believe of myself.”

  “What do you believe, Corinne?”

  “I’d rather tell you what I know.”

  “Okay.”

  Because her knees weren’t quite steady, now she was the one leaning back against the counter. “I know I made mistakes in the past. I know I’ve bent over backward trying to make up for them, to be a better example for Kurt. I know I did the right thing going after Whitney today. Maybe we won’t ever be friends again, but it went a long way toward healing the hurt between us. Either way, I’ll sleep easier knowing she’s away from him. I know I’m strong. Strong enough to break the cycle of abuse for my son, so he’ll never grow up feeling the way I did. And—” She swallowed, thinking that if this was the last chance she got to speak to him like this, she’d at least leave him with the truth. “—I know I’m in love with you and walking away from you was the dumbest thing in a long line of dumb things I’ve done in my life.”

  Tucker stared at her, face inscrutable. She’d put herself out there, admitted she loved him, and he just stood there. Abruptly angry, Corinne thought of the one useful thing she’d ever learned from her mother. No one’s going to hand you anything. If you want something, you have to go after it yourself.

  She wanted Tucker McGee.

  Shoving away from the counter, Corinne crossed to him, wishing he’d say or do something—anything to indicate how he was feeling.

  “I hurt you. I’m so sorry for that. But I’m asking you for a second chance because I deserve it. We deserve it.” She hadn’t thought so when she came over here. But she believed it now, and she wanted with every fiber of her being for him to believe it too. Reaching out, she framed his face in her hands. His stubble rasped her palms. “Please give me another chance.”

  Eyes never leaving hers, Tucker’s hands curled around hers, pulling them away from his face and her heart all but stopped.

  It was truly over.

  Chapter 18

  No one had ever accused Tucker of being a man of few words. But despite all his theater training, all his hours in front of judge and jury sometimes pulling arguments out of his ass, right this moment he couldn’t think of the right words to express how proud he was of her. She’d finally figured out what he’d known from day one—that she was worth it.

  He reached up to take her hands, pulling them away from his face. Her eyes shattered with grief, and he realized he’d taken too long to answer. She started to pull away.

  He tightened his grip on her hands and pressed his lips to each of her palms. “I’m in love with you, too.”

  “But?”

  Tucker pulled her in, hating that he’d given her another moment’s doubt. “No buts. It’s a complete, unqualified statement and the answer to all the important questions. I love you. And if I took a little longer to get it out, it’s only because you cut the knees out from under my whole list of arguments, and I had to fast forward through the script in my head.”

  On a half laugh, half sob, she wrapped around him. “There was a script?”

  “Oh yeah. I wasn’t letting you walk out of here without throwing every reason in the book at you to give us another try.” He stroked the hair back from her face, hand lingering on the cheek now wet with tears. “What changed your mind?”

  “Brody. I called him out on his mistake. He called me out on mine. Quid pro quo and all that. He followed me all the way to Tupelo and waited outside the testing center to tell me.”

  “Your test was t
oday? How the hell did I forget that? How did it go?”

  Corinne shook her head. “I don’t want to talk about the test, Tucker. I don’t want to talk at all.” Rising to her toes, she brushed her mouth over his. “I need you.”

  Tucker skimmed his hands down her back. “Is your mom expecting you back at any particular time?”

  “I didn’t know how long things would take with Whitney, so I told her not to expect me until the morning.”

  “Then stay with me. Spend the night in my bed and wake up with me in the morning.”

  She glanced past him, toward the clock on the stove. “Not a whole lot left of the night.”

  “Then let’s make it count.”

  He took her mouth, gorging himself on the flavor of her as he backed her toward the bedroom. How had it only been days since he’d tasted her? Greedy for more, he licked into her mouth. She met him with equal hunger, her hands shoving his shirt up and off with a hurried gasp before her lips came back to his.

  Some dim part of his mind urged him to slow down, find some of the finesse he’d planned that night at The Babylon. But it was drowned out by a primal need to take and claim, to eradicate the distance between them. They tugged and circled until, at last, they found skin. Her breasts spilled into his palms, full and heavy and perfect. He took one taut peak into his mouth and her head fell back on a moan, the hands at his belt abruptly stopping. A quick glance at her face, suffused with pleasure, assured him he’d just temporarily scrambled her dexterity.

  Not wanting the other breast to feel neglected, he shifted over, giving it the same treatment. At this, Corinne groaned his name and gave up on the belt entirely, reaching into the waistband of his pants and curling those strong fingers around him. Now it was his turn to gasp, to press into her touch.

  “Too many clothes,” she said.

  “God, yes.”

  By tacit agreement, they released each other, stripping out of the rest of their clothes in moments, before falling in a tangle of fevered limbs on the bed. They rolled, touching and tasting whatever they could reach. When she rose up over him, her dark hair brushing the dusky tips of her breasts, he’d never seen anyone so beautiful.