Irene Hannon - From This Day Forward

In time, his desperate loneliness had driven him to a local bar. Alcohol hadn’t helped much, but Amber’s interest had. The blond waitress had given the bar’s newest customer more than his fair share of attention. And that had led to the night he’d driven the final wedge in his marriage, splitting it in two.

Lifting his head, Sam stared into the darkness of his bedroom, his expression bleak. How could he ever hope to win Cara back after the way he’d treated her? Yet how could he go on if he didn’t? All these months, as he’d tried to build a new life for himself, the one thing that had kept him going was the hope that he would find a way to convince Cara to give their marriage another try. But now, despite her presence in his home, the obstacles seemed insurmountable.

And he wasn’t in any condition to deal with them tonight, he realized, as the throbbing in his head intensified. He needed aspirin. Several. Quickly.

Swinging his feet to the floor, he stood, bracing himself with one hand against the wall. When his legs steadied, he covered the short distance to the door, pulled it open—and stopped short.

Cara was still standing in the hall, dressed in one of those sleep shirts she’d always favored, a can of mace clutched in one hand, reminding him yet again that he wasn’t the only who lived with trauma. She gasped and took a step back at his sudden appearance.

“Cara…I’m sorry.” He reached out a hand, imploring, then let it drop to his side. “I thought you’d gone back to bed.” A shiver rippled through him, and he realized that his T-shirt was drenched with sweat.

“Headache?” Cara’s question came out in an unsteady whisper and her features softened in compassion.

“Yeah. Aspirin will take care of it. Look, I’m sorry about this. It hasn’t happened in weeks. This won’t be a habit.” Even as he made the promise, he hoped it was one he could keep.

As if sensing his thoughts, she spoke, her tone subdued. “Nightmares aren’t easy to control.”

Sam knew from Liz that Cara was speaking from personal experience. And he’d been prepared to comfort her if necessary, as she had once comforted him. Instead, he’d been the one plagued by bad dreams while she slept soundly.

The irony wasn’t lost on him.

“I’ll do my best,” he responded.

Half-turning, she hesitated and looked over her shoulder. “Do you want me to get the aspirin for you?”

The trepidation in her eyes, the uncertainty, reminded him of the countless occasions when he’d snarled out an ungrateful response to such an offer. And filled him with gratitude that she’d been willing to risk reaching out once again.

Gentling his voice, he did his best to summon up a smile. “Thank you, but I can manage. You need your sleep. I’ll be okay by morning. Good night.”

Without waiting for a reply, he headed for the bathroom. Once there, he steadied himself on the edge of the sink, filled a glass with water and downed several aspirin in one gulp. Sitting on the edge of the tub, he drew steadying breaths until he felt able to make the trip back to his room.

When he stepped into the hall, the corridor was deserted. Yet glancing toward Cara’s room, he noted that the door was cracked a fraction of an inch. Had she forgotten to close it? Or had she left it that way on purpose, so she could hear if Sam had any further problems?

Sam assumed it was the former. She was tired, and it was the middle of the night, after all. No one thought clearly at this hour.

But for tonight, anyway, he was going to pretend it was the latter. Because if he allowed himself to believe she cared, he suspected that fantasy would do more than anything else to keep further nightmares at bay.

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