All I Need (Hearts of the South)

by Linda Winfree

  “I’m hurting him, Amy, and I don’t know how. I only know I am.”

  “Of course you are.”

  Her anxiety flared into anger. “What do you mean, of course I am? I am not deliberately trying to hurt him. I wouldn’t do that to anyone—”

  “Calm down.” Amy’s tone forbade argument. “You told me once I was self-centered and a little blind to those around me. You’re in the same place at the moment, and that’s why you’re hurting him. Of course it’s not deliberate. That’s not you. Once you can really see beyond yourself and see him, it’ll fall into place.”

  “I am not self-centered.”

  Amy snorted, a decidedly unladylike sound of disgust. “You went into this whole relationship thinking only of what you were going to get out of it and you’re only really looking at what he needs now because it hurts your feelings that it’s hurting him. I don’t know what else you’d call that.”

  “God, I hate you.”

  “I hate you more.” A whimsical smile tipped up the corners of Amy’s mouth.

  “This is not funny, Amy.”

  “No, it’s actually really sad.”

  Savannah narrowed her eyes. “You see something I don’t.”

  “I do, simply because I’m not as close to the situation as you are.”

  “What am I missing? Tell me what to do.”

  “I can’t.” Her sister gave a helpless shrug. “I mean, I could, but it wouldn’t help you. It’s like the difference between knowing what faith is and understanding what faith is. You’d slough it off or run. You’re going to have to figure this one out for yourself.”

  Above them, headlights flashed across the house. Amy nodded up the hill. “We should get back.”

  Back into the lions’ den with no more answers than she’d had when she’d walked out.

  Mackey was entering the kitchen as they slipped inside. He accepted a beer from Clark and saluted Emmett with it. “Your sister is a damn piece of work.”

  “You were with her a year, and you’re only now figuring that out? And you didn’t have anything to do with making her a damn piece of work, did you?” Emmett draped his arm around Savannah’s shoulders and pulled her into his side. He rubbed his palm up and down her upper arm, chafing warmth into her air-cooled skin. She wrapped her arm around his waist, needing the contact with him. The affectionate nearness almost felt normal.

  “Cut him some slack, Em. And no bitching, Mackey.” Pantone moved to help Clark dish up steaming slices of lasagna. “You created that mess by getting involved with her when you were on the rebound. She made it worse by getting married in a rush on the rebound, but still.”

  “Thanks, Nikki.” Mackey drained half the beer in one gulp. “Not like I needed anything to make my night worse.”

  “Anytime.” She tossed him a cheeky grin over her shoulder, then paused, waving the spatula. “That’s why I have the no-rebound rule, you know. Think about how bad that would be, though—being with someone and you don’t know if they’re thinking of the other person while you’re together or wishing you were that person or whatever. Ugh.”

  She ended the rant with an exaggerated shiver of revulsion. Next to Savannah, Emmett had gone absolutely rigid, and an awful certainty settled in her consciousness. The remainder of the evening passed in a miserable blur. Clark’s lasagna might be unbelievable, but if so, any deliciousness was lost on her. They spent some time after dinner on the deck around the firebowl with coffee and slices of cheesecake, but the light banter and laughter went over Savannah’s head. All of her thoughts remained focused on the man sitting beside her on the wooden swing, his arm about her shoulders.

  What was he thinking?

  At one point, Pantone insisted the three of them practice the song they were supposed to sing during the upcoming church service. Troy Lee retrieved his guitar from his vehicle and handed it to Emmett, who’d moved to sit next to Pantone on one of the padded loungers. “You know how to play that, right?”

  Emmett fixed him with a look, exasperated. “If I can play a bass, I can play a six-string.”

  They worked through the praise song a couple of times, Emmett strumming the melody, their voices blending beautifully. Savannah homed in on his voice, singing of wanting nothing more than worship. He seemed calmer, more centered with each note, and as they descended the steps to the driveway, he appeared almost normal.

  Now she was the one tied in tense knots.

  In the darkness of the truck, the questions hovered on her tongue, but he’d all but begged for space tonight. She couldn’t pile on simply to put her own mind at ease.

  Back home, standing on the walkway before their apartments, she caught his hand and drew him to her. She didn’t want him alone tonight. She leaned up to touch her mouth to his. “Stay with me.”

  He tangled one hand in her hair and held her lips under his. She framed his face with her palms.

  “I want you,” she murmured against his mouth. “I want you, Em.”

  On a groan, he sank further into the kiss, and after a moment, she led him inside, down the hall and to her bed. Determined to impart how badly she wanted him, she touched and tasted all of him, finally straddling him and taking him as deeply into her body as she could, to that point where she wasn’t sure he ended and she began. She thrust down over him, a slow, wet slide, until he tightened beneath her on the onslaught of a helpless climax. Only then did she let go and let the pleasure take her as well.

  Wrapped together, they fell asleep. As usual, they surfaced together a few minutes before the alarm. She ran her hand up and down his side, unwilling to leave him in uncertainty.

  “Em, what Pantone was saying last night about being with someone and not knowing if they’re thinking of someone else…” She rested her lips against his pectoral. “That’s what’s wrong, isn’t it?”

  “Part of it.” He rested an arm across his eyes.

  “It’s not true. I miss him, but I don’t wish you were him. I don’t think about him when I’m with you.” She didn’t know how to make him believe. Desperate, she propped up on her elbow and moved his arm aside so she could see his eyes. “I don’t.”

  “I believe you.” His voice emerged hoarse and husked with sleep, but the wall remained. “I don’t expect you not to miss him, Savannah. You loved him. That doesn’t just go away.”

  The missing piece slanted into place. You loved him. Look at me.

  Oh, God.

  She stared into blue eyes completely laid bare. “You’re in love with me, aren’t you?”

  “Yeah.” His throat bobbed with a hard swallow. “I knew it the night Landra came home.”

  “Oh.” The pained sound escaped her lips, and she sat up, a hand over her heart. God, why did this hurt?

  “I know you don’t love me, and it doesn’t matter.” He pushed up to sit against the headboard, but didn’t touch her. “I’m committed, Savannah. I decided I’d rather live with it than without you.”

  “I don’t want that for you,” she whispered.

  “Then you have to be the one to go.” He rested his wrists on his updrawn knees. “Because I won’t leave.”

  “I can’t leave you.” The words fell from her lips before she’d even thought, and his lashes fell, a spasm of something—pain? fear?—twisting his features. Tears clogged her throat. “What do we do?”

  “Let it ride. Let me love you.”

  “It’s not fair.” She shook her head. Take that from him when she couldn’t give anything back? “That means I’m taking.”

  “No, it means I’m giving and you’re receiving.” He did touch her then, reaching to cup the back of her neck and pull her near, his nose against her temple. “I just need to know you’re not going to leave me because of it. If I know that, I’ll be fine.”

  She lifted her own hands to tangle in his hair. “No, I’m not going to leave you.”

  He nodded, skin moving against hers. “Then we do today.”

  * * * * *

  Her ve
rsion of doing today involved a flood of minor health complaints in the ER, coupled with the fallout of discovering HR had not only hired them a set of new nurses, but that Landra Washburn was one of them. She was skilled and apparently excellent at her job, but her effect on Mackey could only be described as detrimental.

  Savannah cornered them in exam one after a public sniping exchange in the hallway. The door closed behind her with a quiet thud, and she leaned on it, arms crossed over her chest. “Okay, here’s the deal. You’re both too good to let this shit go on here. I don’t care what you say to each other after hours, but here you have to act like the professionals we all know you are. And we’re not leaving this room until we’re all in agreement.”

  Landra folded her arms and deliberately turned her face away from Mackey, who rested his hands at his hips and blew out a long breath. He met Savannah’s gaze, his own irritated and resigned. “You’re right.”

  Posture tightening, Landra cut her eyes at him, but remained silent.

  Mackey glanced at her, his own expression unhappy. “Landra.”

  “I shouldn’t have put in for this position.” She drew her arms impossibly close over her midriff. Her scrub sleeve shifted, revealing healing bruises in shades of purple and yellow. “I knew it wouldn’t work, but I need a job and there aren’t tons out there.”

  “We can make it work.” Mackey shrugged when she glared at him. “We can. I shouldn’t have snapped at you earlier.”

  “You shouldn’t have gotten involved with me in the first place, when you didn’t want me.” With her face turned away from him again, Landra blinked hard, and Savannah figured Mackey didn’t see the sheen of tears in her blue eyes. “We wouldn’t even be in this mess if you’d taken that damn high road you’re so proud of.”

  “I did want you.” Mackey’s words emerged low and rough.

  “No, you used me to make yourself feel better about what you couldn’t have.”

  “That’s not true.” He glanced sideways at Savannah. “And this is not the time or place to hash this out.”

  Somehow, Savannah figured they’d had this same argument over and over. The words sounded tired and worn, similar to Landra’s dejected expression.

  “There’s nothing to hash out.” Landra straightened and focused her attention on Savannah. “I’m sorry about earlier. It won’t happen again. I can play nice.”

  The oddly familiar hurt and defeat in her voice tickled at Savannah’s memory. Where had she experienced that before?

  Emmett, sitting on the steps after talking to his father and cloaked in that same hurt and defeat. Emmett, sitting in her bed, admitting he loved her and was committed despite her own lack of love for him.

  She didn’t want that for him, didn’t want to be the cause of that. She swallowed hard. The situations were hardly the same. Everything was out in the open between her and Emmett, and no one was making any promises that could be broken.

  “It won’t happen again.” Mackey repeated Landra’s avowal. His gaze lingered on the curve of her averted face. “I promise.”

  Landra nodded, but didn’t look at him. Savannah pushed away from the door and opened it. For now, she was satisfied they would keep their personal animosity out of the ER. She was less satisfied that she knew how to keep from hurting Emmett.

  * * * * *

  “What is so important that it couldn’t wait until you got off work?” Intrigue rather than irritation colored Amy’s words. She angled Hamilton’s stroller next to the hospital coffee shop table so the sun streaming in the tall windows didn’t strike the sleeping baby’s face, then settled into the chair across from Savannah.

  Savannah set a cup of Amy’s favorite—regular brew with raw sugar and a dusting of cinnamon—in front of her sister. “I just…needed to talk.”

  “What is going on with you?” Amy smiled over the top of the brown cup. She closed her eyes on a deep sip. “Oh, that’s good. Thanks for this.”

  “Anytime.” Savannah waved the appreciation away and tapped the tabletop in a nervous rhythm. “Emmett’s in love with me.”

  “Yes, he is.”

  “That’s what you couldn’t tell me last night, what you said wouldn’t help me.” Savannah brushed a loose hank of hair away from her face and pressed her fingers to her forehead. “You saw it, right?”

  “I did.”

  “I don’t know what to do.”

  “You have no idea how much I love hearing you say that.” An impish light glinted in Amy’s brown eyes, before a gentle smile brightened her face. “Let him love you.”

  “Oh, my God, you sound just like him. ‘Let it ride; let me love you.’ That’s insane.”

  “Why is it insane?” Amy spread her hands, then leaned forward. “He’s an adult, and he knows what he wants. Let him love you.”

  “Do you not understand how unfair that is? I don’t love him, Amy. Letting him love me when I don’t feel the same way? That is so selfish.”

  “Are you still using him?”

  “No.” A flicker of anger burned under her skin. “Of course not.”

  “Then relax and let it unfold. You two are finding your way.”

  Savannah stared at her sister. She’d expected Amy to help her. Instead, she was making it worse. “I don’t want to hurt him, Amy, and I’m going to.”

  “Savannah, you’re not going to deliberately hurt him, any more than I would hurt Rob on purpose.” A hint of exasperation tightened Amy’s voice. “Maybe you should simply stop worrying so much and actually enjoy your life. Enjoy being with him. He enriches your life, or you wouldn’t still be with him and we both know it.”

  Hands clutched around the warmth of her barely touched cup, Savannah blew out a long breath. She couldn’t let go like that. It frightened her.

  “You need to think about whether you’re afraid of hurting him or hurting yourself.” Amy leaned back, lifting her own coffee for another sip. “You don’t need to confuse those, or you’ll end up hurting him for real.”

  “What are you talking about?” She narrowed her eyes.

  “I’m talking about your tendency to shut down and hide from life since Gates died. In this scenario, that would most likely look like you leaving him because you’re afraid of how you feel about him. Only, you’d tell yourself it was about not hurting him. You don’t have that luxury because you know leaving him would devastate him. So really, the only thing you have left to do is let it ride, let him love you, and figure out what life with him looks like. You aren’t there yet, but you will be. Give it time.”

  * * * * *

  Savannah’s phone buzzed while she was walking from the coffee shop. A quick glance at the screen revealed a text from Emmett, asking her to meet him outside the ER’s main entrance. She had a few minutes until her break was up, and the pager lay quiet in her pocket.

  Outside, she set her coffee on the brick wall at the top of the steps and smiled as Emmett crossed the one-way street between the parking lot and hospital. She’d thought Troy Lee made tan and brown polyester look good. The vest under Emmett’s shirt made his chest and shoulders seem broader, and dear Lord in heaven, the combination of starch and authority. He even walked differently, shoulders back and straight, the leather gear belt molding the line of his hips. Combined with the knowledge he was hers in a way she’d never expected, she really wanted to jump him right here.

  This was another facet of him, one she found as attractive as the talented musician or the leap-in-and-live-life man learning how to reshape that very same life. She wanted to unravel him, explore all the layers she didn’t know yet.

  “What are you doing here?” Her voice emerged breathier than she liked.

  “Pick one of these.” He shoved a small stack of paint sample cards in her hand and straightened his hat brim above his sunglasses. “And save me for a few minutes.”

  “What?” She glanced over the paint chips in various shades of gray.

  “Lord help me, Gary Walker wants to bond with me.” He grimaced
. “And Troy Lee was right. That car is a pigsty. Do I smell?”

  “I’m sure you don’t.” If she leaned in and sniffed him, with her emotions and attraction to him so close to the surface, that would lead to other activities and they’d both be in trouble with various ethics boards around the state. She held the paint cards aloft. “What’s with these?”

  “I got the house. Signed the lease first thing this morning. The owners are paying to have it repainted inside, and you’ll hate anything I pick.”

  “What does it matter if I hate it? You’re the one leasing the place.” That mud gray was hideous. She tossed it in the waste bin next to the steps.

  He rested both hands above his gun belt. “Would you be serious? Like you’re not going to spend time, including nights, there.”

  She wasn’t even going to argue that because they both knew he was right. With a sigh, she pulled her pen from her pocket and circled a medium gray with blue undertones. “This one.”

  “Got it.” He stuffed the card in his shirt pocket and glanced over his shoulder at the deputy waiting impatiently by the car, arms crossed over his chest. “You want a say in the furniture too, right? We can hit Sundries after work.”

  “Furniture?” Paint was one thing. Furnishings were something else entirely.

  “Landra’s plan is to take over the apartment, and I’m leaving her most of my stuff. Painters are coming tomorrow, and we’re supposed to be able to have furniture in by Friday. Unless you want to be looking at what I would pick on my own—”

  “Sundries after work is good.” The wide smile actually hurt her face, and he laughed.

  “I want to kiss you so bad.” He shook his head and walked down the steps. He paused at the bottom and pointed back at her. “About five thirty? I’ll meet you there.”

  “Sounds great.” She watched him walk away, an unfamiliar emotion curling through her, warming her chest. He spoke to the other officer, then strode to the passenger side and lifted a hand at her in farewell before he climbed in the car.

  A hand at her throat, her pulse fluttering under her fingertips, she eyed the car as it pulled onto the one-way street and disappeared around the corner. No, not an unfamiliar emotion. Merely forgotten. That feeling fizzing through her was plain, old-fashioned happiness.