by Jordan, Skye
Emma pressed her elbow to the window ledge and shifted in the driver’s seat. He made her hot all over. Made her hungry. Made her ache for things she’d given up on a lifetime ago.
And she had to admit, even if only to herself, he’d been right about far too many things. She did still want him. She did still love him. And, much to her annoyance, she had kissed him back.
She rubbed her forehead and groaned. “What were you thinking?”
That was the problem, she hadn’t been thinking. She’d been reacting. And she’d melted the same way she had a decade ago.
By the time she reached her parents’ house, Emma was disgusted with herself.
She went in through the kitchen door. “Mom?”
“In here, sweetie,” she called from the living room.
Emma moved that direction, her brain foggy from fatigue and stress. Debbie Reeves sat in one corner of the sectional sofa, her feet up on the coffee table, knitting in her lap. Their orange tabby swished her tail from the perch on the cushion at her shoulder. Her mom was still fit and vibrant. She’d aged well and looked at least eight or ten years younger than her sixty years.
Ginger meowed in greeting, and Emma headed toward the cat to scratch her head.
“I just don’t know what I did wrong.” Her mother studied the stitches between her needles through the readers perched on her nose. “You’d think after redoing this thirty times, I’d figure it out.”
“Where’s Dad?” she asked.
Emma must have sounded as bad as she felt, because her mother’s gaze jumped to her face and scoured her from over the tops of her readers.
“He’s at the gym.” Debbie dropped her knitting and took off her glasses. “What’s wrong?”
The sympathy in her mother’s voice dug into Emma’s wounds, and tears stung her eyes.
“Oh, honey.” Her mom opened her arms. “Come here.”
Emma dropped to the sofa and let her mother hold her.
“Sweetie, is it work?”
“No, no.”
Her mother leaned away and scanned Emma’s face. “Then what’s going on?”
She opened her mouth to speak, but the ugliness of the situation closed her throat. “Liam… Dylan…”
She didn’t know where to start.
“What?” Debbie asked, confused. “Liam or Dylan?”
“Both.”
Her mother’s hand curved around Emma’s. “Take a deep breath.”
Emma forced her throat open and sucked in air. It settled her. For a split second. Then all the turmoil came rushing back. She covered her face with both hands. “What a mess.”
“Start at the beginning.”
Emma rushed through her visit from Dylan at the hospital, the secrets she’d kept from Liam, breaking off the engagement. But she skipped the part about kissing Dylan. Still, by the time she finished, Emma was crying, and her mother’s eyes were wide. “Oh dear.”
Emma wiped her sleeve down her face. “I’ll never get this right. I may as well just line up a sperm donor now if I’m going to have kids. I’m too fucked up to get married again.”
“Honey, there’s nothing wrong with you. And you’ve got plenty of time for marriage and kids.” She wrapped Emma’s hand in her own. “Love is complicated. There are always peaks and valleys. Stops and starts. Forks in the road. It’s never linear.”
“Linear or not, I want off this stupid ride.”
Emma slumped against the cushions, curling her legs underneath her.
“You’ve been struggling with this decision about the wedding for months,” her mother said. “I kept hoping it would work itself out.”
“Why didn’t you say anything?”
“You’re stubborn, baby. You’ve always had to figure things out on your own. If nothing had changed by the time you set a wedding date, I would have sat you down and made you listen.”
“And what would you have said?”
“That you have to deal with the past before starting a new future. You haven’t faced everything that happened with Dylan. You just buried it beneath school and residency.”
Tears welled, and Emma pressed her fingers to closed lids. “Fuck.”
Debbie sighed. “Your language degrades in direct correlation to the hours you spend in the ER.”
She dropped her hand. “I’m sorry.”
“Let’s talk about Dylan.”
Emma sniffed, covered her hand with her shirtsleeve, and wiped her eyes. “I can’t do this, Mom. I don’t have it in me. I’m worn out.”
“You’ve said that about everything in life that’s ever mattered to you—moving on after coming home, getting through medical school, handling traumas. And not only have you done them all, you’ve done them all well. Why did Dylan come see you at the hospital?”
“He said he came into town to meet his new nephew. His sister Gypsy had a baby a few months ago.” Emma opened her eyes and looked at the ceiling. “He said he came by the hospital to apologize.”
“About damn time.”
Emma huffed a laugh. “Right?”
“What’s he like now?”
Hot. So fucking hot. Damn him. All lean muscle and oozing confidence. And still the best kisser on the planet.
She ran her tongue over her lips, tingling with the memory. He was also resilient and deep. And he still had that aura of adventure.
“He’s…I don’t know. More mature. Seasoned, I guess. Warmer and more sincere than the face he wears on television. But definitely not that lighthearted, easygoing guy I married.”
“I would think not. No doubt he’s seen as many or even more horrible things than you have. And overcoming his physical limitations after that accident…” Her mother shook her head. “I can’t imagine how hard that must have been. I’ve always believed he was only half-sane when he turned you away. The amount of pain that results from burns, well, you know.”
She did know. At least she knew now. Once she’d learned just how much agony burns could cause, Emma had discovered a deeper well of sympathy for Dylan. In those rare moments, when her own pain dimmed, a sliver of understanding surfaced in her soul. Empathy for all he’d been through, all the difficult decisions he’d had to make at such a young age.
“Your father and I continued to reach out to him for a couple of years after you came home.”
Emma’s mind tore from her thoughts of Dylan’s pain. “Wait. What?”
Debbie shrugged. “He only responded once, about a year later.”
Her breath caught. “Why didn’t you tell me this?”
“You’d just gotten back on your feet. Stopped crying yourself to sleep. Made a couple of friends at school. You were…fragile. Your dad and I didn’t want to upend you again.”
“What did he say?”
“He sent a letter. Thanked us for caring about him and including him in our family. He was crushed he couldn’t be the husband he wanted to be. The husband you deserved. But he stood by his decision to break things off. He believed it was the best thing he could do for you.”
A knife twisted in her heart. Emotion overwhelmed her again. She covered her face. “Fuck.”
Her mother went into the kitchen and came back with a glass of iced tea for Emma. “How long is he staying?”
Emma took a long drink, trying to pull herself together. She explained the offer he’d made to renovate Aunt Shelly’s house. “I don’t think spending that much time with him is a good idea. And I don’t completely trust him to follow through.”
“That’s a generous offer. He’s doing what he can to make amends.” Her mother gave Emma’s knee an affectionate pat. “I think you should agree. Not only is it a sound business decision, but I’d like to see you take this time to work things through with Dylan so you can move forward. Put the past behind you. You’ve been emotionally trapped for years. You need to find a way to let it go so you can be free. You were both little more than kids, and you both did the best you could in the face of hardships that would have cr
ippled most adults. You both deserve to move on.”
The pain sank into her stomach and burned. “You’ve always been partial to Dylan.”
“He was a good boy, raised by a fine man. He would have made a wonderful husband. The strength he showed by forcing you to move on proves that. It was one of the most selfless things I’ve ever seen anyone do.”
“He was a coward,” Emma argued. “He saw himself through my eyes and couldn’t deal with his new reality. Instead of manning up, he pushed me away.”
“That’s not how I see it. The things we should do in life are always harder to do than the things we want to do. It would have been infinitely easier on him to keep you by his side, depend on you for everything. But he let you go because it was best for you, and he struggled through recovery and rehab on his own. That takes commitment and determination and perseverance. That takes character, Emma. And, so does facing his mistakes and being humble enough, vulnerable enough, to face you and accept responsibility for what happened.”
“I want you to know how sorry I am for what I did. For forcing you into a decision that wasn’t completely your own. For hurting you. But most of all, for failing you.”
His words floated through her head and squeezed her heart, but other thoughts had created a much deeper groove in her mind than this new one, and she didn’t know if she was capable of changing the fear and pain programmed into her subconscious. Or even if she should.
“It may have turned out that way,” Emma said, “but no one knew what would happen at the time. I married that jerk for better or worse, and when the worse came, he bailed.”
Her mother went quiet, her gaze distant. “We can only ever do what seems best in the moment. I believe he did that for you. I’ve always believed that. Maybe that’s why I have a soft spot for him. How could a mother not love a man who put her daughter’s long-term well-being first?”
That twisted Emma’s perspective in an entirely different direction and forced to look at the situation in a completely different way.
“You’ve been brought back together for a reason, Emma,” Debbie said. “Don’t be so stubborn and bitter that you miss out on the gift of the situation. Forgiveness might just be what sets you free to face the rest of your life at your best. Holding on to hurt and anger certainly won’t give you the life you want or deserve.”
Emma picked up the glass of iced tea, took a shuddering breath, and drank the entire glass. She had no idea how she’d span the emotional bridge Dylan had incinerated so long ago.
She set her glass down and worked up a smile for her mom. “I’ll think about it.”
7
Dylan had picked up a rental truck in town and now drove through the streets of the upscale neighborhood in the Nashville suburbs toward the top of the grade, where Miranda and Jack were building their new house.
He hadn’t spoken to Emma for days, but he could still taste her on his tongue. That one kiss had turned his life on its axis and given him a renewed and burning purpose.
Dylan reached the top of the street where it ended on a plateau with three-hundred-sixty-degree vistas of the Nashville area. He parked the truck he’d rented beside a battered Ford F-150 Super Duty and a BMW X5.
Dylan took a minute to admire the partially finished structure. He never would have guessed a house constructed from shipping containers would look so incredible. The metal boxes sat at different angles, defying physics and taking advantage of every view. The center of the house was two stories tall, with slabs of metal cantilevered over glass-railed decks to provide cover. Walls of glass collapsed accordion-style, meshing indoor and outdoor spaces into one open living area. The sheer elegance of it shocked Dylan.
Movement drew his eye. Miranda stood at the front door, waving. Dylan took a deep breath, let it out slowly, and reset his battle-worn barriers, hoping they’d hold for another hit. He might have made headway in righting his wrongs, but he still had a long way to go.
He stepped out of the truck and made his way toward the entrance, his gaze taking in all the construction equipment. A crane, two tractors, palettes of material, half a dozen trucks, a dozen workers.
Construction noise abraded his nerves. Hammering, metal on metal, metal on concrete. The buzz and screech of a saw cutting into cement. His mind slipped sideways, scrambling toward the past. To crews digging through rubble, pulling out bodies. So many bodies. The cement dust clogging lungs and slicking skin. The only bright spot, blooms of crimson blood.
A hand on his arm made him startle. He cut a look toward the person and found his older sister, a woman who’d been more of a mother to him than anyone else on the planet, despite being little more than a child herself.
“I’m sorry.” Concern creased her brow. “Gypsy told me you startle easily.”
He forced air into his lungs. “It’s just the construction noise. I’m still adjusting.”
She opened her arms and smiled. “Well, welcome home.”
Just like that, the years between them melted away. A sense of relief and gratitude swamped him, and he wrapped Miranda in a hug.
“We’ve got you, Dylan,” she murmured, hugging him back. Her words transported him back to childhood and the way she was always there for a hug and all the reassurance he’d ever needed. “I know you’ve been through a lot. But we’ve got you now.”
“I’m sorry about Mom.” All his regret surged forward. So much regret. So many mistakes. So much guilt. All toward the people he loved the most. “I was an asshole for not coming home. I’m really sorry.”
She pulled away with real concern in her dark eyes. “I’ll admit, I was angry about it for a long time. But not anymore. We can only do our best, and sometimes our best can be hard to find.”
“That’s an overly generous thing for you to say.”
“I mean it.”
“Man, you look great.” Her hair was long, her face glowing.
“And you’re so grown up.” She cupped his face in her hands. “But, buddy, you look worn out.”
He laughed. Nodded. “I am.”
She slipped her arm around his and pulled him into step beside her. “Come in and meet Jack.”
As soon as they entered the foyer, Jack approached. He offered his hand and a sincere smile. “Dylan, so great to meet you.”
Dylan instantly liked the guy. He was easy and genuine and warm, just like Miranda. “You too, man. You too.” He shook Jack’s hand. “This place is crazy amazing.”
“That’s all Jack,” Miranda said, grinning at her fiancé with the kind of love that used to fill Emma’s eyes when she looked at Dylan. Damn, how he missed that kind of connection and comfort.
“Not true,” Jack said. “Definitely a joint effort.”
Jack released Miranda and gestured Dylan into the house. “Let me show you around.”
Dylan wandered through the space in awe of all the architectural details Jack shared about the construction, the process, the materials. The views were even more spectacular from inside the house.
Jack returned Dylan to the living area, where Miranda sat out on a deck, working on a laptop, and returned to the house to take a call.
“Sit with me.” Miranda pushed her computer aside and poured iced tea for Dylan.
He eased to the edge of the chair, grateful this side of the house was opposite the construction. The deck looked out over the Cumberland River and the rolling hills in the distance. “This place is really special.”
“It is. You’re welcome anytime. We’ve got plenty of room. Mi casa es su casa.”
“Thanks. I like the ranch. I like being close to help with Cooper.”
“A huge relief for Gypsy. She’s been trying so hard to do it all on her own. I have to pry that baby away from her with a crowbar to get her to take my help.”
“She feels like she has a lot to prove.”
“We’re like three little peas in a pod, we Wrights.”
Dylan laughed. “That we are.”
“What do you th
ink of Cooper?”
“They don’t come any cuter.”
“Right?” She rolled her eyes. “So damned cute. Looks a lot like you and Gypsy did as babies. Same dark hair and light eyes. They’re still a little more blue than green, but you were both born with blue eyes, and they changed after several months. I think Cooper’s will do the same.”
“You’ve got her in a sweet little setup there with Marty. Who is amazing, by the way.”
“My savior, in more ways than I can count.”
“Tell me about this cool company you’ve got going.”
“It’s a bit unorthodox, but it works for me. ” Miranda shrugged and gestured to the home surrounding them. “I’m building homes out of shipping containers.”
“She always undersells herself.” Jack walked out onto the deck and dropped next to Miranda. “What she’s doing is creating developments of affordable homes where like-minded people can find a sense of community. Americans who are struggling, like single parents, veterans, and the disabled.” He looked at Miranda. “We should take him out to Warrior Homes while he’s here.”
“Gypsy told me a little about it,” Dylan said. “And I saw the home you built for her. It’s perfect for her and Cooper. I’d love to see the development.”
The phone rang somewhere in the house and Jack exhaled. “Duty calls.” He leaned toward Miranda for a kiss. “I’ve got to get back to work.” He stood and offered his hand to Dylan again. “Looking forward to getting to know you better.”
“Same. Thank you.” Once Jack disappeared into the house, Dylan looked at Miranda. “Seems like a great guy.”
She sighed and smiled, that stupid-happy smile. “I never imagined I’d find a guy like him. Every day I wake up and think I’m still dreaming.”
A bittersweet sensation settled in his stomach. He’d once had that dream. And he’d fucked it up, big-time. He was thrilled Miranda had found someone special. After her childhood, she really deserved happiness.