Page 51 of Whispers of My Skin

“Tara needs you,” he says softly.

“What she needs is a good spanking,” I retort.

Any other time the mere mention of Tara and spanking would get me hard as a rock, but right now I just want to force some reason into that head of hers for keeping me in the dark about all of this.

“I can see where you’re coming from, the way that stupid stubborn girl’s been acting,” he says. “But in order to do what you’re suggesting, you need to hang around.”

“I told you, Fermin. Not. Now.”

He sighs heavily. “Listen Joel, I get it, I really do. I understand you’re pissed, and I am too. Tara didn’t confide in me, she didn’t turn to me for help either, did she? And that fucking stings, but even I’ve worked out that throwing a hissy fit won’t solve anything, because right now her health is the most important thing.”

“Yeah, I know, you’re right,” I reply grimly.

“Wow, I can’t believe I’m the one here giving the lecture for once. Christ, my mother wouldn’t believe it—Fermin Carrillo giving someone like you a good scolding, along with a good dollop of sensible advice.” He rolls his eyes and scoffs in disbelief.

“Well then, Carrillo, I suggest you shut the fuck up and stop dishing out your crappy unsolicited claptrap,” I retort, shoving him on the back good naturedly. He might be a weirdo, but I guess his heart’s in the right place.

“Listen, cowboy, all the time Tara’s laid up in a hospital, I get a free pass to say whatever needs to be said. And you’ll do the right thing by her because you love her.”

“Is that so?” I frown at his confident assertion.

“Yep, sure is,” he says. “And she loves you too, so you can’t leave.”

“You’re going to need more than that to keep me in here,” I stubbornly insist.

“You CANNOT leave Tara in Monique’s care,” he vehemently protests, raising his voice. “You can’t POSSIBLY believe that’d be in her best interest.”

At that moment, a nurse appears and tells him to be quiet, reminding him where we are. As if that were possible to forget.

“Joel, if Tara goes back home with her family, I swear she’s not going to get better. Letting Monique and Oscar take care of her would be akin to signing her death warrant,” Fermin whisper shouts at me.

“If that’s what she wants,” I shrug, allowing the bitterness raging inside make me appear callous and uncaring. “Seems to me the only thing Tara cares about is getting me to save her precious fucking ranch. Otherwise, why wouldn’t she have told me she was ill before we got married?”

Fermin narrows his eyes and lowers his voice. “I think Tara came to find you because deep down she knew that you could save much more than just the ranch. That was just the excuse she needed to come and find you.”

I stare at him for a moment. What Fermin’s saying does ring true, because all along I sensed there was something else, I just couldn’t figure it out. That desolate look she had when she walked into my office that day. Her reluctance to commit to anything permanent with me until I forced her hand.

He’s right.

She came to get me. Because she needed me. Me. No one else.

“Damn it!” I exhale loudly, and as the air leaves my lungs, so does the blind rage.

Although, I’m still pissed. Especially with Monique. What kind of a mother is she?

“I’ll let you into a little secret, Fermin,” I say quietly, taking him by the shoulders. “I wasn’t really going to leave Tara, I would never do that. I just needed some fresh air and some time to think.”

I grin wickedly as he mutters a string of curses and thumps my shoulder with his clenched fist.

“So, enough with all the fucking lectures, let’s go talk to my mother-in-law and see if anyone is able to give us an update about Tara.”

I walk back into the waiting room to see Monique sitting there as if nothing’s wrong. No more tears, her cold mask back in place. How does she do that, switch her emotions off when right now her daughter is lying in a hospital bed? Does she have warm blood flowing through her veins or pure ice? Has she already resigned herself to her daughter dying?

Before I can say anything, a guy in scrubs appears at the door, calling for Tara Sadger’s husband.

Much as I resented filling in all those stupid fucking forms earlier, now I’m thankful because it means I’m the one being called forward.

“Yeah, that’s me.” I rush over, desperate for an update on Tara’s condition right the fuck now. “How is my wife?”

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