LITMIR.BIZ

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trust issues? Tate wouldn’t blame her if she did.

      Tate felt Linc’s hands on her waist and sighed when his big body pressed up against hers, her back to his chest, his chin resting on the top of his head. “Is this all feeling a bit too real?” he asked, his deep voice gentle.

      Tate nodded, a ball constricting her throat. “I don’t think I can do this, Linc.”

      She had to pull back, she had to find that place of inner solitude that served her so well. She had to retreat to her mental island where emotions couldn’t affect her.

      “Do what, Tate? Us?”

      “No, that I can do because I know it’s just sex.” Not understanding the reason for Linc’s sudden tension, she ignored it.

      “I’m not sure I can be what Ellie needs,” Tate said, her voice cracking. “She’s starting to trust me, starting to rely on me, but in a couple of days, or in a few weeks, I’m going to hand her back to Kari—”

      “If you find her.”

      “Reame will find her,” Tate stated. He had to; she couldn’t imagine having to make the final and crucial decisions about Ellie’s future. That was Kari’s job, dammit. “I’m worried that I will end up hurting her by loving her, by bonding with her knowing that that bond will be severed soon.”

      Linc rubbed his chin over her hair, and Tate felt the reassuring squeeze on her hips. “Tate, trust is a learned skill. When we teach children to love and to trust by being loving and trustworthy, they learn that they can expect that from other adults.”

      Tate snorted her disbelief. “Can’t see Kari teaching Ellie those life lessons.”

      “Me, neither.” Linc released her to stand beside her, leaning his shoulder into the wall, his face solemn. “I accept that you are worried about Ellie’s well-being, but I suspect that you are also worried about your emotions, your state of mind.”

      Tate rubbed Ellie’s back with her hand, realizing that the little girl had fallen back to sleep. She tipped her head to the side, not sure if she wanted to hear what Linc was about to say.

      “You don’t like the emotions and you’re worried for yourself, worried that you are becoming too attached to her. You’re worried that you will be hurt when she moves on.”

      Oh, damn, she really was. She didn’t want to miss Ellie, or Shaw, didn’t want to miss Linc. She so didn’t want to miss Linc. And she would. She’d spent so little time with him, but this house, this stupidly big mansion had become a place she loved, and the people who lived inside it, and who were associated with it, people she had come to truly like. Leaving The Den would hurt like hell.

      “The thing is, getting too attached is exactly what Ellie needs from you even though it might break your heart one day. Because showing her love and affection is the right thing to do. She’s the innocent party here, Tate. She didn’t choose a damn thing, so if you withhold love and affection, you’d be punishing her for something she didn’t create.” Linc lifted his hand to clasp the back of her neck, dropping his head to rest his forehead on hers. “The only thing you can do is to make it as easy on her as possible. Even if that might make life harder for yourself.”

      “This isn’t me, Linc!” Tate cried. “I don’t want this responsibility. I want to be free and independent and only want to be responsible for myself.”

      “That’s the easy route, sweetheart,” Linc said, his voice low and rough. “Having no ties, no commitments, no responsibility is an easy—possibly lonely—way to live. You only have to think about yourself, all the time. It’s a way to protect yourself from life and from all the crap it throws at you. And it’s a really good way to avoid getting hurt.”

      He was right, of course he was. His words felt like hailstones smacking her soul, but he was speaking the truth, and she appreciated his honesty.

      “Why the traveling, Tate? Why do you keep running from place to place?” Linc gestured for her to sit down on the large wing chair next to the bed, and Tate lowered herself and Ellie to the chair, grateful to get off her wobbly legs. She stared out of the window, watching cold raindrops slide down the windows.

      Linc sat down on the edge of the bed, his knee nudging hers, his forearms on his thighs, his expression intense. “Talk to me, Tate. God knows you need to talk to someone.”

      Ellie, disturbed by her aunt’s movements, sat up, rubbed her eyes and spat out her pacifier. She pushed Tate’s hands off her, crawled off her lap and dropped her feet to the floor, one hand holding the chair and the other holding Linc’s leg for balance. She wobbled before plopping down onto her butt. Smiling, she started to crawl away. Tate reached for her, but Linc’s hand on her bare knee stopped her. “She’s fine, Tate, let her crawl. Talk to me.”

      Tate knew that if she told Linc that she didn’t want to talk about her past, he would respect her wishes, but she wanted him to know the forces that shaped her into the person she was. Keeping it simple and brief, she reminded him about her childhood, her parent’s divorce, her mother’s preference for her niece and why she and her sister didn’t speak for years.

      “Thanks for defending me—us.” Linc said.

      “My fight with Kari, about her leaving you and Shaw the way you did, caused an additional strain between my mother and me. We didn’t speak much after that. Then she died and our relationship could never be repaired.”

      “I’m sorry, honey.”

      Tate crossed her legs and turned, resting her head against the back of the chair. “I’m sorry that two more Harper women have turned your life upside down again.”

      Linc’s eyes gleamed with amusement. “That’s okay...last night was worth any aggravation.”

      She needed to say it, needed to express another apology. “I’m especially sorry that Kari’s actions caused you to shy away from love and relationships, Linc. You’ve given her too much power. Not all women are like that. You should try again. You’re a good guy, and you deserve to be happy.”

      Linc kept his eyes pinned to hers, and she saw the flash of annoyance in those granite depths. “Pot calling the kettle black, Tate? Her actions have dictated the course of your life, too. You’re the one who has run from commitments and people and stability because your family pushed you aside. Are you brave enough to change that?”

      “No, I don’t think so.”

      Linc released a long, slow breath before standing up. “Yeah. Me, neither.” He ran his hands over his head, his shirt inching up his stomach to reveal the dark trail wandering down from his six-pack abs. “I’m going downstairs to make coffee. Want me to take Ellie with me so that you can grab a shower?”

      Discussion over, Tate thought with relief. She nodded her thanks and watched as Linc scooped up Ellie and held her like a football, Ellie laughing in delight.

      He looked down at her and then back at Tate, his gaze suddenly serious. “The trick is to enjoy them, Tate, for as long as you have them.”

      He was talking about Ellie but also about them, about the night they shared. He was right—she should just live each moment and deal with whatever life threw at her when she could see it barreling her way.

      No promises and no guarantees. Especially from him. Got it, Ballantyne.

      * * *

      A week passed and it was another cold Saturday afternoon, and Tate had The Den to herself. Linc had taken Shaw to a birthday party and wasn’t expected to be back until the early evening. Ellie had fallen asleep in the middle of Tate’s bed after lunch, so after transferring her to the crib, Tate went downstairs, feeling a little at a loss. She hadn’t spent much time on her own for more than three weeks, so how was she going to fill the next couple of hours?

      She supposed she could work out. Linc had told her to make use of his gym in the basement, but the last thing she felt like doing was spending

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