Tacker (Arizona Vengeance #5)(28)

I don’t know MJ other than through the memories Tacker has shared over the last few weeks. But what I have gleaned is she was a kind woman who loved him. In a million years, I can’t imagine her ever laying blame on his doorstep. So I go out on a short limb, attempting to focus his attention on that. “Did she hold you responsible? Did she say that to you?”

He shakes his head hard and his eyes squeeze shut, releasing a stream of tears. I watch as they flow down his cheeks, his hands gripping into Starlight’s mane. She holds still, a patient support system for his pain.

“She’d never do that,” he finally says, opening his eyes but not meeting mine. He uses one hand to dash the tears away.

“Then you need to stop doing it to yourself,” I remind him.

Tacker gives a bark of a humorless laugh. “I’d almost have rather had her recrimination.”

Tilting my head, I reach across Starlight’s back and take his good hand in mine. I squeeze it hard to get his attention. “Why? Why would you have rather had that?”

“Because…” he croaks, and then Tacker completely loses it. A sharp sob breaks free, followed by a torrent of tears. Laying his head down on Starlight’s back, he cries.

Loud, racking sobs interspersed with piteous moaning. He’s in so much pain, but all I can do is hold tightly to his hand and trust Starlight will support his weight while he needs it.

Tacker pours it out, his chest heaving with the effort. I quietly watch, taking note that my own body is reacting. Tears slip out of my eyes, and my chest aches so badly that my heart feels shredded for him. I had not anticipated this today, but I don’t stop it.

He needs it.

To him, his breakdown might have felt like an eternity. In truth, though, it wasn’t more than a few moments. Eventually, he quiets except for some long, shuddering breaths he sucks in and lets out. Over and over again, he moves into the deep-breathing techniques I’d taught him. On his own, he brings himself back under control.

Tacker lifts his head. Rather than be embarrassed by his purging of emotion, he looks me dead in the eyes. It’s a sign of trust that takes my breath away. “MJ spent all her time left on this earth telling me how I needed to go on. That she wanted me to continue to live life and not get lost in my grief. Told me she wanted me to get married one day, wanted me to have lots of children, and wanted me to remember her fondly. And I swear, Nora…”

He pauses, sucks in a breath, and tries to temper the anger in his voice. “I swear,” he continues in a low voice, “that part of me hated her for doing that to me.”

“For doing what?” I press, because this is critical.

That muscle in the corner of his jaw ticks, and his voice rumbles with emotion. “For dying graciously. Trying to absolve me of guilt. For preparing me for a life without her. She died a movie death. I mean… who does that shit in real life?”

“MJ did,” I say simply. “And it’s a sign of how beautiful her soul was.”

He grunts and mutters a curse under his breath, his gaze shooting off to the side.

“You’d have done the same,” I say, and his anguished eyes search mine. I lift my chin. “You absolutely would have done the same for her if the positions were reversed.”

He can’t argue with me. He knows I’m right.

“It’s a gift, Tacker,” I say. “She gave you an amazing gift, and you need to accept it as such.”

Although his lips are pressed flat, I can see him grinding his teeth.

He’s had enough.

“Come on,” I suggest, pulling my hand gently from his. “Let’s go groom Starlight, and you can tell me all about the team practice yesterday. You were back on the first line, right?”

Our counseling sessions haven’t been all gloom and doom. I’ve spent some of each hour with him learning about his job and the importance of it within the framework of his life.

“Yeah,” he says. Pulling the lead free of the rail, I hand it to him so he can lead the horse to the barn. “We were a little rusty for sure, but by the end of the practice, we were totally back in sync.”

“And you get your cast off tomorrow?” I ask.

He nods as I fall into pace beside him. “Supposedly. The plan is to move me to a splint for a few weeks if it’s healing right, but I’ll have more mobility.”

We chat about hockey all the way back to the barn. Some of the horses pop their heads out to say hello. There are no other appointments this afternoon, which is how I knew it was the right time to press Tacker into working with Starlight and talking about MJ’s death.

When I reach her stall, Tacker asks, “How would you and Raul like to come to a game soon?”

A surprising excitement fills me, and I smile. “Really? I’ve never even seen a game on TV.”

“Really,” he says with a return one. “I’d love to have you two come and watch me.”

“Then yes, I accept on behalf of us both.”

Tacker’s eyes are bright, the pain receding. He merely nods, his lips curved up as he leads Starlight into the stall.





CHAPTER 13




Nora


The stream of cars that bounced down our gravel driveway mid-morning was unending. Tacker managed to bring almost the entire team with the exception of a few of the guys who had long-standing plans that couldn’t be canceled. They all stepped out, muscled and dressed for some hard work. I was almost giddy from the prospect—and not because of the muscles—but because I could actually make a dent in the project that would have taken us months to do on our own.