I’d dreamed of Mara begging me to fuck her. However, in all the imaginings of her husky voice making demands on my body, there had never been an edge of desperation like this. A razor-sharp slice of need that pushed a little too far.

I lifted my head to search her eyes. I wanted to have imagined it, but no, the frantic hunger set into the lines around her eyes and the way her hand gripped me too tight definitely set off red flags. Not the normal amount of urgency for lying in bed with a lover. The pain in her gaze was darker and more dangerous.

I wanted her. Fuck, I wanted everything she offered and everything she didn’t know to offer. But her eyes warned me off as much as they invited me in. “Why do I need to have sex with you in order for you to accept a job offer you want?”

I knew exactly what she would say to that. I could have mimed it.

“You don’t want me then?”

It took more effort to keep from rolling my eyes than to actually resist her advances. “What part of my statement said I don’t want you?” Her curves pressing against me tested my limits.

She threw her hands up and twisted from my grasp. “I don’t know. The part where you’re not inside me already. Most men wouldn’t have stopped to ask questions.”

Something snapped in me. Maybe the long dormant bit that shuttered when I’d thought she abandoned me. I didn’t care. I captured her chin in my fingers. Hard enough to earn a glare. Her looks didn’t promise to kill. They swore slow and agonizing torture. Nevertheless, I endured.

“Let me make one thing so very clear. I am not like other men. Especially any you’ve been with.”

“Well, that list includes you, so…”

“And when you finally relinquish whatever you’re holding back from me, I’ll be the only man you remember.”

Her lips folded into a hard line, and I barely caught the hurt in her eyes.

Shit.

My realization must have been splashed across my face, because her smile turned rueful. “Too late. But before you get your panties in a bunch, I don’t remember you either. I might as well be a virgin.”

She jerked from my hold again and rolled away.

Way to fucking go, Murphy.

I lay back and gave her space. It allowed me time to consider this new face of hers I hadn’t seen yet. Not the sex I’d forfeited. Both of us were entirely too volatile at the moment. Likely, it would be more of a fight than a joining, anyway. Maybe I should consider why I felt the need to take care of her even when she didn’t know she needed to be cared for.

Saint-fucking-Murphy. The nick-name scratched through my brain like sandpaper.

We stayed that way for too long. A wall slowly inched up between us. I eventually rolled out of her bed, left her a note to come over in the afternoon if she really wanted, and scurried back to my bar. The place I always ran back to.

The lights were out. Everything in the place lay dormant and quiet until the old heater kicked up, sparking a cacophony of noises that were as familiar to me as my own hands.

Instead of going back to my apartment, I went into the office and threw myself on the lumpy couch. It was older than me, but it had held up through thirty-five years, so I couldn’t bring myself to get rid of it and buy a new one. I settled in and pulled a blue and black crocheted blanket from the back, a gift from a patron’s wife, and closed my eyes.

The hurt and anger in Mara’s gaze hit me first. It took deep breathing and emptying my mind of her—repeatedly—to fall into a restless sleep.

The sound of banging woke me, and the stiff springs on one side of the couch had pushed my back in the wrong way. I had to roll off the edge, onto the floor, to stand up and wobble out to the door. I shoved it open with one eye cracked, the other squeezed tight against the morning sun.

Mara stood on the other side, hands stuffed into the pockets of her tight jeans. She wore a black t-shirt and her black leather jacket as well. “I said afternoon. This is way too early for walking and breathing and life.”

She cracked a smile and pushed past me into the bar. I ignored her and went back to the couch, curling up in the spot I’d grooved out, and fell back asleep.

I didn’t know how long I slept. The scent of hot coffee woke me up. At least the light creeping through the small window opposite appeared to be a little less like morning light. Mara shoved a cup of coffee at me, and I sat up to take it in both hands. “Thanks.”

“Sorry about waking you up. I didn’t sleep much last night, so I figured I’d get an early start.”

I kept my eyes closed, the weight of sleep still heavy in my limbs and mind. “Uh huh,” I managed.

“You’re not much of a morning person, are you?”

“I’m not much of an anything person. If you haven’t noticed by now.”

I finally blinked my eyes all the way open to find her staring at me hard. “What?”

She bit her lip and shook her head, finally looking away. “Nothing. I have no idea what kind of person you are, Murphy.” She spread her arms wide. “I’m here to find out, though.”

Was that her version of an apology? Did this interaction require me to level one as well? I needed more sleep to consider these problems.

“Let me clean up, and then I can tell you what I’ll have you doing.” I cradled the coffee in my hand, hoping to steal a few more seconds of shut eye.

The snort she let out probably meant that wasn’t going to happen.

“I’ve already washed the glasses, the counters, the tables, and mopped the floor. That’s the only reason I came back here. The floors are drying. If you step out there, I will hit you in the forehead with the mop handle.” She said it deadpan, and I didn’t doubt her.

“I’ll be staying here with my coffee then.”

“Safe choice.” She hopped up in the old desk and swung her legs back and forth underneath. “So, this is where the magic happens?”

“If by magic you mean the horny patrons sneak off for a quickie right where you’re sitting…then yes.”

She froze, her eyes stuck wide, and I couldn’t help but smile at the mix of revulsion and doubt on her face. “You’re screwing with me.”

“Well, they will do it anywhere dark and quiet. So not just right where you are.”

She started swinging her legs again as she peered around the room. The couch and the desk dominated most of the dingy space. A file cabinet with my old taxes sat in the corner, but I’d never needed much. It occurred to me, Mara couldn’t sit still if someone tied her down and sat on top of her. I didn’t even have the energy to let my mind wander to the filthy places from there.

“What else do you do all day?” she asked, shuffling papers in a pile.

I had no organizational system, and if it made her happy to move them, I wouldn’t complain.

She eyed me, making sure I wasn’t about to start raving like a loon before lining the sheets up and knocking them together vertically.

“What do we do in a bar? Generally, question our series of damaging life choices.”

“Are you always so sarcastic in the morning?”

“Only when people wake me up before a reasonable hour.”

“I brought you coffee.” She gestured at the now empty mug and sent her legs swinging again.

“Next time, bring the pot.” I shifted around on the couch intent on standing and getting on with the day.

She blocked my path with an extended leg. “Floor is still wet.”

“This floor is going to be more wet if you don’t let me get through.”

With a scowl, she dropped her leg, and I pinched her thigh before slinking out the door. The floor had dried mostly, and I kept to the matte spots so I could keep from messing up her work. Once I was groomed and dressed, I came back in to find her sweeping the office floor. “We don’t do employees of the month here.”

She didn’t respond, only kept on swiping the broom back and forth, into crevices, and under furniture.

“Mara?”

No answer. I clapped my hands, and she jerked to a halt and finally looked my way. She blinked a few times as if coming out of a fog before forcing a smile. I could tell she didn’t want to get into it, and I wouldn’t push her on it right now.

“I’m going to make something to eat. Are you hungry?”

I backed out the door to her quick nod. The sound of the broom started again before I ducked into the kitchen. The gleam on the stainless steel struck me first, and the fact that every glass was put away. That hadn’t happened since 1989.

She made me feel like a slacker, and I’d only let her in the door a couple hours ago. I quickly tossed some English muffins in the toaster oven and fried a couple eggs. Sandwiches were the go-to when I needed to eat, but didn’t really care what went down. Hopefully, she wouldn’t either.

I carried the plates back to the office, and this time, I found her sitting on the couch, the blanket now folded neatly over the back. Carte blanche for five minutes, and I return to an entirely new room. “Uh…did you turn into Mr. Clean overnight?” I handed her the plate as I studied the paper piles in a neat line across the desk.

“I don’t remember you being so neat and tidy before.”

I watched her gently peel small pieces of egg off the edges of her sandwich. “I don’t think I was. The motion and the activity give me something to focus on. It turns the other parts of my brain off. It helps me forget.”

I knew rocky terrain when it punched me in the face. Treading carefully might keep her talking. If I charged in, she might clam up and never speak on the subject again. Unfortunately, I’d never been known for my tact. “What are you trying to forget?”

She took a bite of the sandwich before glaring at me.

“Okay, bad choice of words. I’ll shut up now.”

She finished chewing. “It’s not that I have to forget. More like my mind goes quiet. It’s one of the only times everything feels still and silent. I don’t get that much. Between random headaches and ringing in my ears, plus the staring when I go out in public. I just long for these stretches of serenity, but I barely get ahold of them sometimes.”

“If it helps, that isn’t a brain injury thing, that is a life thing.”

Her forehead wrinkled, and she ate some more. I couldn’t help but watch her. These little things were the stuff we never got to do. The last time we ate together had been in the high school cafeteria. And we only sat together because neither of us could stand to sit alone. Solidarity in exclusion.

We never got to have a real first kiss. We never got to dance together. Wake up in each other’s arms and make love in the shower. An entire lifetime of things toppled through my mind. All the things I spent the year writing to her about. None of it ever happened. Was now our chance? Or had too much damage been done on either side?

When she finished, she stood and gripped my plate. “Are you finished?”

I nodded and watched her walk out the door. Even going to the kitchen, when her back faced me, it brought up something deep and dark I’d shoved down. The anger and the humiliation of falling in love and then being left with endless silence. I’d spent years assuming she didn’t want me. Now she’d returned, and I had yet to forgive or forget, even though it wasn’t her fault.

I didn’t have a doubt I loved her. But I also didn’t doubt a tiny part of me hated her for the years she robbed from me. The years of need and longing and empty silence.

How did I rectify the two emotions? It seemed simple enough, forgive and forget. This wasn’t her fault, and it wasn’t my fault, but that excuse didn’t dull the edge of the pain. It didn’t just invalidate years of frustration.

So how could a man love and hate a woman at the same time?

My thoughts were stalled by the severe yank of a ripcord when I looked up to catch her entering the office again. This time, the only thing barring every inch of her skin from my eyes was an apple print apron.