by Jamie Beck
He took the steps two at a time and called Emma’s cell once he reached his room. She didn’t pick up.
Chapter Twelve
Emma snatched glimpses of Jessie and Wyatt while collecting the empty dessert plates. All evening, she’d been forced to endure their laughter and easy banter. Even Mari had joined in and relaxed, her typically pinched expression lightening.
Jessie sat between the Lawson brothers, but her body leaned closer to Wyatt’s. A hair flip here, a saucy smile there. No doubt she expected to spend the night, or maybe two. Emma could hardly blame her, because unlike Emma, Wyatt was memorable.
Wyatt’s brilliant smile flashed again, only to falter when he caught Emma’s eye. That made him stiffen and sit up straighter, as if Mother Superior had entered the room.
Suppressing a sad groan, Emma decided to assert herself so he didn’t pity her.
“I’m heading out shortly, so if there’s anything you all need before I go, please let me know. Jessie, I don’t mean to presume anything, but will you need a room?”
A sudden, tension-filled hush ensued. Emma purposely kept her focus on Jessie, although, peripherally, she could see Ryder turn toward Wyatt. Pulse racing, Emma now very much regretted flinging herself into the air like a trapeze artist without first checking to see if a net had been secured below.
No net. No net at all.
Jessie cast Wyatt a knowing glance. “I don’t need my own room, thanks.”
Emma doubted Wyatt wanted to hurt her, but he probably didn’t want to hurt Jessie, either. Even if he didn’t want Jessie to stay with him, he wouldn’t embarrass her in front of everyone. And wishful thinking aside, chances were he’d be happy to have Jessie stay. After all, unlike Emma, Jessie wasn’t afraid to be with Wyatt. She didn’t make him feel like he needed to remain a shameful secret. She’d probably even lend her name to help his documentary get more publicity.
In short, Jessie deserved him.
Emma nodded and smiled. Hopefully no one noticed how her cheeks were cracking under the strain. Or heard her heart whimper when it smacked against the ground. “Fine. I’ll see you all in the morning. Enjoy your evening.”
“If it’s not out of your w-way, can I get a lift to Crawford’s studio?” Ryder asked.
“Absolutely.” Emma nodded. “I’m leaving in ten minutes, so I’ll meet you by the door.”
As she left the room on shaky legs, she heard Mari speak up. “We have a little time to get Jessie on film, if that’s okay. Just a couple of quick questions about the old days, and what she thinks of Wyatt’s transition plans.”
“Great!” came Jessie’s bright reply.
Great, Emma repeated in her head with a heavy dose of sarcasm.
Thank God Kelsey had agreed to meet with her this evening, because Emma couldn’t have stayed at the inn much longer. She certainly didn’t wish to watch Jessie and Wyatt canoodle all night. Canoodle . . . an old-fashioned word. One she’d heard her mom and Grammy say over and over. Her comfortable use of that kind of vocabulary counted among the many little things that set Emma apart from others. Made her a bit more peculiar and unrelatable, she supposed.
After wiping down the counters, she grabbed her purse off the pantry doorknob and marched through the inn. Along the way, she passed the parlor, where Mari sat in a chair while Buddy filmed her interviewing Jessie and Wyatt, whom she’d trapped on the sofa. How sweet they looked together: two young, fearless athletes with so much to look forward to.
Wyatt caught Emma watching. He opened his mouth as if he were going to call out to her, so she trotted ahead to where Ryder stood waiting by the door.
“Sorry. I went as fast as I could. Hope you won’t be late.” Emma opened the door and held it as he went through with his cane.
“No problem.” He followed her to her car. They passed an unfamiliar Jeep in the parking lot, which Emma assumed must belong to Jessie. What did it feel like to be so independent and free? To take off on a whim and meet up with a lover, or travel, or do anything unexpected?
A swell of resentment toward Emma’s mother surfaced, followed by guilt. Her moralistic mother had only ever loved her and sought to protect her from pain. Then resentment surged again, this time directed at her father and the damage he’d left in his wake. Of course, Emma was an adult. Blaming others for her choices didn’t really work anymore.
An awkward silence descended after she started her car. She wanted answers about Jessie even though it wouldn’t be fair to pump Ryder for details. Before she could help herself, she said, “You must’ve enjoyed catching up with an old friend.”
He shrugged noncommittally. “Jessie’s fun. Kinda ditzy, though.”
“Oh?” Emma wanted to pry further, but that would be bad manners. And very obvious. “I’m surprised she’s not in training now, too.”
“Guess she figured she could skip a day and visit since she lives so close by.” Ryder stared straight ahead.
Ryder’s blasé attitude about the visit surprised her. When she’d briefly met him years ago, he’d been extroverted and silly—a flirt with a number of women in the bar, too. Now he barely engaged with anyone, preferring solitary activities like cooking and pottery. Had Jessie’s return been yet another reminder of a terrible tragedy? Or had seeing Wyatt reconnect with a former flame stirred a different kind of sibling rivalry?
Suddenly Emma wondered whether Ryder had left a sweetheart behind. “Ryder, forgive me for asking, but I’m curious. Do you have a girlfriend back home?”
He snapped his head toward her, brows raised above his glasses. Finally, he snorted, “No.”
“Haven’t met anyone in a while?”
“I’m not exactly a p-prime catch these days.” His brows dipped back beneath the rims as his head bowed.
“Oh, I don’t know about that. You’re young, attractive, sensitive, even if it sometimes comes out a little rough.” She smiled, hoping she hadn’t totally overstepped.
“So are you, but you’re a-alone, too.”
“An unfortunate thing we have in common. Must be one reason we’ve become fast friends.” Emma kept her eyes on the road as if her headlights might illuminate her thoughts, which had raced ahead. “Do you think people like us—self-conscious people—are alone because we make it hard to be known?”
“Dunno. I’m not the same as before, but even back then, I wasn’t trying to b-be known.”
“Well, you are a guy, and young at that.” She grinned before sighing. “But I’m not. Sometimes I wish I could just . . . be. Let go and see what happens.”
He stared out the passenger window for a moment. “Be careful, Emma. If you ‘let go,’ do it for yourself, not for someone else. Don’t go against your n-nature to make someone else happy or you’ll end up regretting it.”
Ryder never mentioned Wyatt’s name, but his meaning could not have been more obvious. He knew his brother’s love ’em and leave ’em history, as did she. Over the years, he must’ve seen other girls, like Jessie, get their hopes up only to have them dashed. She considered his concern a compliment, even though it choked off any lingering hope she might have been harboring about Wyatt.
But more honestly, she thought about whether letting go meant going against her nature, as he presumed, or running toward it. For so long, she’d cultivated certain traits while burying others. Even she no longer knew who she was at her core.
Two turns later, Emma pulled up in front of Jack Crawford’s studio. Through the window, she saw him sitting behind one of the potter’s wheels. “Do you need a ride home?”
“I’ll be okay.” Ryder opened the door. “Thanks, Emma.”
When Ryder disappeared through the front door, Emma took a second to slap her forehead. What had she been thinking? She hardly knew the guy well enough to be dishing out love-life advice. In fact, love lives were the last thing she should advise anyone about.
Shifting into first, she pulled away from the curb and drove to Kelsey’s.
“I’m glad you called.
Now I don’t have to spend the evening alone.” Kelsey greeted her with a generous glass of red wine. As always, she looked like a sexpot, in her formfitting clothes and high heels.
Emma glanced down at her jeans and button-down shirt. Modest, clean, hopelessly plain clothes.
“Thanks.” Emma set her purse down and gulped the wine.
“Oh, God. You just drank that like Trip does. Slow down! It’s not beer.” Kelsey plopped onto the down cushions of her sofa.
Emma loved Kelsey’s condo. Rich wood floors, a big hearth and roaring fire, earth tones and comfy furniture. Best of all, privacy. Emma had never really known that particular luxury. Until recently, she hadn’t realized she wanted any, either. “You’re so lucky to have this place all to yourself.”
“Hardly to myself these days.” Kelsey smiled.
No one had suffered more heartbreak—whether exaggerated or real—than Kelsey had over the years. Since fifth grade, she’d chased love only to be told she was too clingy. Until she’d hooked up with Trip.
Had Kelsey confided in Emma about her secret bet with Trip this past summer, Emma would’ve advised against it. She would’ve listed the many reasons why Trip was wrong for Kelsey (a list that would’ve included half the female population in town), the many ways Kelsey’s heart would be shredded—yet Emma would’ve been 100 percent wrong, and Kelsey wouldn’t have that giant rock on her finger now.
Thank God Kelsey hadn’t come to her. Emma had a lot to learn about love, and she needed to start learning from someone other than her scorned mom.
“What’s with the frown? Did you come over to discuss some problem?” Kelsey swirled her wine, dipped her nose deep into the glass, and sniffed before taking a sip.
“No. I called because Andy mentioned the guys’ poker night. I figured you’d be alone. Did you invite Avery?”
“She’s caught up in some book about sisters in France during World War II. Sounds depressing to me.” Kelsey waved it off, as if reading were a silly pastime.
Emma had read The Nightingale, however, and understood Avery’s desire to curl up alone and finish it. She swigged more of her wine. “Well, your party last night was a success. Now on to the wedding plans.”
“I’m thinking green gowns for you and Ave because the color flatters you both. And as much as I love your cupcakes, I’m ordering a traditional wedding cake from Sweet Cakes. You won’t have time to bake anyway, because we’re going to be busy picking flowers, bands, a menu. I really want your input with the menu, and to make sure I don’t get ripped off by the caterer.”
“Where did you decide to hold the ceremony?”
“I’m going to keep it intimate. I booked the Pinnacle Lodge because it has the best views, and Trip loves those mountains.”
“So romantic, and a beautiful setting.” Emma thought of how her friend had gone from the depths of despondency to the zenith of happiness. Honestly, Kelsey and Trip’s love story would make a compelling romance novel, too, but she couldn’t steal it. One “real life” inspiration was more than Emma could manage to keep secret. Besides, borrowing their whole story would be cheating. She squeezed Kelsey’s leg. “It’s wonderful to see you this excited and in love. You know I like to give you a hard time about Trip, but he makes you glow, and for that, I can love him.”
Kelsey’s pretty, caramel-colored eyes misted. “Thanks, Emma. I threw caution to the wind, and it worked out.” Then she set her glass on the table and cleared her throat. “Maybe some people might learn from my example.”
Emma poured another glass of wine and tucked her feet under her butt, refusing to take the bait. “This is a great wine. What is it?”
“Uh uh. I’m not letting you off the hook that quickly.” Kelsey leaned closer. “Emma Duffy, I’m not as smart as Avery or as rational as you, but I know a thing or two about lust, so don’t sit there and pretend that the only reason you kissed Wyatt Lawson last night was because of Trip’s bet.” Kelsey held up a hand to cut off Emma’s protest. “Nope. Don’t even bother. Now, the only thing I really want to hear from you is what happened last night when you got back to the inn.” Then she giggled. “Trip said Wyatt seemed unusually loose and relaxed today on the mountain.”
Emma’s panicked three-second hesitation sent Kelsey into a frenzy of hand clapping while she bounced on her cushion. “I knew it. I knew it, knew it, knew it! Tell me everything. Don’t even think of leaving something out, either.”
“It doesn’t matter what did or didn’t happen, or if I like Wyatt.” Emma tapped a fingernail against the nearly empty glass. “Jessie Taylor came to visit him today. She’s there now.”
“Who’s Jessie Taylor?” Kelsey scowled.
“Snowcross competitor, former lover, super cute girl . . . a girl that he’d invited to visit.” Emma set the glass on the table and then nestled deeper into the cushion, averting her gaze.
“He kissed you like that and then invited his ex-girlfriend to the inn?” Kelsey’s raised voice rang out.
Emma glanced at her fired-up friend. “Easy, tiger. In fairness, I think he’d gotten in touch with her before he arrived in town. She’s from Durango, so she drove up to surprise him.”
Kelsey slapped Emma’s arm. “What in Sam Hill are you doing here with me? Go back to the inn now so he doesn’t think you don’t care if he gets together with her. Have you learned nothing from me in all these years?”
She flung herself dramatically back against the sofa, causing the first laugh of Emma’s evening.
“Oh, I love you,” Emma chuckled.
“That’s another nonanswer, Emma.” She sat up again and leaned forward. “Tell me why you won’t go after Wyatt. What are you afraid of?”
“Be realistic, Kelsey. He’s young. He’s an athlete on a mission who’ll be gone in a couple of weeks. There is no possible future, so what’s the point?”
“The point is that it feels good when a man makes you feel beautiful. The point is, you don’t know what the future has in store, but if you never venture anything, you can guarantee your days will be spent working at the inn with your mom.” Kelsey softened her voice. “Your mom’s sweet, but I don’t want to see you turn into her. Alone and a little bitter about love and men, rattling around that big old inn. Please take a chance and have some fun.”
“I have fun, but if I set my sights on someone like Wyatt, I’ll be exactly like my mom, because Wyatt’s just like my dad.”
“You don’t know that. Look at Trip. He was worse than your dad, but now he’s reformed by love.” She grinned. “Besides, I’m not saying you should fall in love with Wyatt. But have some sex, for God’s sake, Emma. You won’t be struck by lightning. Trust me. I’m still standing!”
Kelsey sighed in the face of Emma’s mute stare. “You’re so private, sometimes I can’t understand you at all. You know me, I have to get everything off my chest.”
Emma chuckled. “Well, maybe because there’s already so much of it, it can’t hold anything else in.”
Kelsey laughed and glanced down at her generous cleavage. “Could be.”
After topping off her wineglass, Kelsey sighed. “I want to see you happy. I want to see you do something wild before you die, too. Even you seem sick of being the “good” girl . . . at least, that’s how it sounded last night in the bathroom.”
Emma couldn’t deny that truth. She sure was sick of being held up as some pious, dull, paragon of virtue. Of course, she wasn’t a “good” girl last night, and look at how that had ended. Here she sat, drinking away pangs of jealousy while Wyatt reconnected with his ex. Yet again, her mom’s dire predictions about casual sex seemed dead-on.
“So maybe you don’t get your crazy on with Wyatt, but promise me one day you’ll make me happy and do something no one expects.”
A tiny part of Emma wanted to confess all her sins right then and there. Instead, she merely said, “I promise, someday I will surprise you.”
Emma returned to the inn before ten o’clock, surprised to see Jessie’s
Jeep missing. Had she left town? Her reckless heart skipped three beats as she jogged up the porch stairs and burst into the lobby.
She heard Wyatt’s voice coming from the dining room, but it sounded tinny. Quietly she crept over to its entrance and caught Mari and Jim watching film footage on the large computer monitor. Their backs were to her, so they didn’t hear her. From her spot near the archway, she could see a majority of the screen, so she decided to watch.
A mature woman’s voice cut in, and Emma saw photos of a much younger Wyatt drift into view. She guessed the voice-over was his mother. Emma froze, mesmerized by glimpses of Wyatt looking so young. A mass of curls and white teeth, his good looks imminent despite his youth.
“Things weren’t easy around here back then. My husband got laid off a few times, and new jobs are hard to come by in rural Vermont. Sometimes he’d drink, and sometimes he’d get a little rough with the boys. We didn’t have much. Wyatt always wanted more.”
Some still shots of Wyatt and Ryder playing in a yard strewn with junk flashed on the screen, followed by another of an intimidating-looking man standing in front of a mountain lake with both boys. Emma’s heartbeat seemed to sputter and slow as she took in this information she hadn’t known about Wyatt’s childhood.
“When his friend gave him some old snowboard equipment, Wyatt didn’t care that it didn’t fit right. He believed he could do something with that sport, and he wouldn’t be stopped. He worked as a busboy at the resort in exchange for a ski pass. Teachers would call me ’cause he’d skip school to go practice. He entered local competitions and started winning, and before we knew it, he had sponsors and then a coach.”
More photos flashed of him winning small trophies and medals, working his way up to the world-recognized podiums. A smile lifted the corners of Emma’s mouth as she imagined his excitement, pride, and hope. His sense of accomplishment from having done it all on his own. She knew something about that feeling thanks to her upcoming debut, yet unlike Wyatt, she wouldn’t be able to share her achievement with anyone.