by Lori Ryan
“But what am I supposed to do, not love her? It’s not possible.”
“I know, I know,” Max said. “I get it.”
“Elle has a tattoo that runs across her ribs, it says ‘There is no tomorrow’.”
“Shit, that’s depressing,” Max said.
“Not really. I mean, think about it.”
“There is no tomorrow,” Max repeated. He turned to face Emmett, shaking his head. “Nope, still sounds fucking depressing.”
“Well, I get it.”
“What?” Max asked.
“The quote. It means she can’t worry about tomorrow, she has to live in the moment, live for today. It’s all she gets. All any of us get. She won’t waste one single day. Elle knows that better than anyone and she’s okay with it. I have to be okay with it, too.”
Max and Emmett sat in comfortable silence.
“Emmett!” Someone shouted outside before they could take the conversation further.
Emmett and Max turned to see Kayleigh standing in the doorway, waving them in.
“Crap,” Emmett said, unbuckling and reaching for the door. “She’s probably waiting to close up the clinic.”
“That’s the doctor?” Max asked.
Emmett glanced over and stifled a laugh. Max looked overcome by Kayleigh’s beauty—long blond hair, bright blue eyes, an hour-glass figure that could top Marilyn Monroe’s. Most men were left speechless when they met her. She didn’t do a thing for Emmett though. He had a feeling that had more to do with his feelings for Elle than any lack of beauty on Kayleigh’s part.
“Holy, fuck, dude, no wonder you wanted to come see the vet.”
Emmett rolled his eyes and opened the door. “You’re an idiot.”
Max shrugged as they headed to the front of Kayleigh’s clinic.
“I thought you weren’t going to make it,” Kayleigh said, her breath sending out plumes of steam in the cold night air.
“Sorry we were late,” Emmett said, following her inside. “Thanks for staying.” they walked down a hallway to a row of cages. Cheeta lay sleeping on a blanket in a small crate.
Kayleigh opened the door and scooped Cheeta into her arms with a snuggle, then rested her into a small carrier for the trip home.
“She’ll probably be out for another thirty minutes or so. She can’t eat or drink for the rest of the night and only give her soft foods tomorrow. I had to remove one of her back teeth.”
“So that shit is real?” Max asked.
Kayleigh’s eyes cut to Max’s, brows up.
“Sorry, Kayleigh, this is my brother Max. He’s here in town helping with the expansion of the lodge.”
“Oh yes,” Kayleigh said, extending her hand, “Lily and Maggie have told me a lot about you. Sorry I haven’t been able to meet you until now. The Rutherford Ranch has kept me pretty busy this last month or so.”
Max took her hand and shook it. “You run the clinic and go around to the ranches, too?”
Kayleigh nodded. “Yeah. Speaking of which, I’ve got to get back to it. I still have a few animals to tend to before I turn things over to our overnight caretaker.”
Emmett glanced down at his watch. The sun had set almost two hours ago. “You still have more work?”
“No rest for the wicked,” she smiled, handing him a bag. “Pain medicine, in case Cheeta needs it,” Kayleigh said.
Max chuckled. “Pain meds. For a dog.”
“Have you ever had a tooth pulled?” Kayleigh asked, staring at Max.
Uh oh, Emmett thought.
“Sweetheart, I’m in the NFL. I’ve had a lot worse pain than a pulled tooth.”
“Then you understand the need for pain meds.”
Max stiffened, his face falling.
Kayleigh turned her attention back to Emmett. “Tell Elle to call if she has any questions.” She waved them off and headed down another hallway.
They made their way outside and Emmett glanced over his shoulder. “What the hell was that all about?” he asked.
Max shrugged. “What?”
Cheeta moaned in the crate. Emmett opened the door and settled the little case in the back seat, using the car’s seatbelt to buckle the carrier in. He unzipped the opening to check on her. “It’s okay, girl,” he cooed, rubbing her ear.
Max watched him, his lips twisted like he’d eaten a lemon.
Cheeta settled back, obviously uncomfortable. “I think she needs one of those pain pills when we get her home.”
Max snorted. “Jesus, you sound like Carol Brady.”
“Who?” Emmett scowled as he buckled in and Max pulled the car out of the lot.
“Carol Brady? The Brady Bunch?”
Emmett shook his head. “Whatever.”
“You sound like a fucking mother, bundling up your kid, worrying about how much pain the stupid dog is in.”
Emmett glanced back at Cheeta, still passed out, her breathing slow but steady. Yeah, he may be Carol Fucking Brady, but he loved it.
“You didn’t have to walk me to the door,” Emmett said as he and Max stood on Elle’s front porch.
“I’m nosy, what can I say?”
“You’re not nosy. I told you that’s Devlin Darby’s car in the parking lot and you went all dreamy eyed and hopeful.”
He bumped Emmett’s shoulder with his own. “I did not.” Max glanced over his shoulder. “I just like her car. I wanted to find out where she got it.”
Emmett followed his gaze. “Dude, it’s a Ford Fiesta. It’s a rental.”
“Well, maybe I want to find out where she rented it from,” Max said, refusing to admit he liked Devlin. “So, sue me. I don’t catch tail on a regular basis like you and Elle.”
Emmett raised a hand in warning. “It’s not ‘catching tail.’”
“Okay, Carol, whatever you say. But if your dick is penetrating any part of her, you’re catching tail.”
Emmett shook his head. “With a mouth like that you’ll never catch any tail. The only thing you’ll catch is a venereal disease.”
“Too late,” Max said, staring at the door.
“Are you serious?” Emmett nearly shrieked.
Max glanced over at him, his mouth spreading wide in a huge grin. “Nah, man, I’m just fucking with you. We get checked regularly in the NFL. I’m clean.”
Before he could say more, Elle’s door swung open.
“Oh, hey, guys,” Elle said as if surprised.
“I told you I was on the way.”
“Ahhh,” someone said behind Elle. Devlin made her way around her, holding out her hands. “This must be Cheeta.”
Emmett had taken Cheeta out of the carrier earlier and now cradled her in his arms. She was still groggy, but had opened her eyes and started looking around drunkenly. As much as Emmett didn’t want to hand the dog off, he relinquished Cheeta to Devlin. Oh god, he was becoming a pussy.
Devlin pushed back the blanket. “She’s so cute. I’ve been wanting to do a book on pets.”
“You seriously photograph dogs?” Max said with grin.
Devlin’s caramel colored eyes cut to Max, her lethal glare answering his question.
“Hey,” Max held up his hands in surrender, “whatever. If people are willing to pay for that shit.”
“Max,” Elle swatted at Max, seemingly unimpressed by the NFL-sized man.
“God,” Max shook his head at Elle, “not you, too. I get enough of that censored shit when I’m around Ma.”
“Maybe for good reason.” Elle nodded toward Devlin, like Max might need to watch himself and his language around her.
Max narrowed his eyes. “Something tells me I don’t need to filter my words around a woman whose dad is ex-military.”
Devlin laughed. “I like you, Max.”
Max winked. “Most women do.”
“Oh, God, can we please come in?” Emmett asked. “Before the shit gets so thick out here I can’t move.”
“Yeah, I’ve got to go,” Devlin said, handing the dog over to Elle. “Su
ch a cutie,” she tweaked Cheeta’s nose before glancing up at Elle. “I hope you like the photo.”
“Yes, thank you,” Elle said. “And I’ll think about your proposal,” she added.
“What proposal?” Emmett asked.
“Not of marriage dude, calm down.” Max held his shoulder.
Emmett let out a huff of laughter at Max’s joke but a small part of him froze at the words. His gaze slid to Elle, wondering if the mention of marriage, of a proposal, had any effect on her. They’d carved their names in the Kissing Cave. She had to know he was heading toward a marriage proposal. Why, then, was there a prick of uncertainty in his mind? Why did he wonder if she just might possibly say no if—no, when he asked her.
“Come in, it’s cold out there,” Elle said, stepping back to allow them inside.
“I’ve got to get going, too” Max said. “I just wanted to make sure Emmett and the mutt made it in okay.”
“She’s not a mutt,” Elle frowned.
“You said you wanted to talk to Devlin about her car.” Emmett used air quotes.
Devlin, who had made it a couple of feet down the sidewalk, spun and both women stared up at Max.
“My car?” Devlin said with a gleam in her eye.
Max cleared his throat. “Dick,” he growled under his breath.
“Oh wait, no it wasn’t the car,” Emmett said, stepping over the threshold. “Didn’t you say something about catching tail?”
Max choked on a cough. “Uh, no, I meant the dog’s tail. I told you not to catch the dog’s tail in the zipper when you closed her little container-thingy.”
Elle laughed. “You mean her carrier?”
“Mmm, hmm,” Devlin said, rolling her eyes at Max and walking toward her car. “Night, Elle. Let me know about the book, okay?”
“Okay,” Elle hollered over Max’s shoulder.
“Maxwell, would you like to grab a drink and talk about catching tail?” Devlin said, never turning back. “You can ride me…oops,” she glanced back at him, “I meant ride with me, since you’re curious about my car and all.”
“Oh shit,” Max muttered as he ran to catch up to Devlin. “She’s a live one.”
Emmett and Elle laughed as she shut the door. “I have a feeling Devlin Darby could eat him up and spit him out.”
Emmett sank into the sofa and waited for Elle to join him. “What did she mean about the book?”
Elle snuggled in close to Emmett, cradling Cheeta in the crook of her arm, ignoring his question in favor of asking about the dog. “How did she do? Kayleigh said she was fine after surgery but she looks totally wiped.”
“She said Cheeta would probably sleep for another hour or so. We have pain meds if she needs them. And stop changing the subject.”
Elle glanced up.
“What did Devlin mean about the book?” Emmett asked again.
“Her photography book. The one that’s going to feature cancer survivors.”
“Oh, yeah.” Emmett sat back in his seat, surprised when Elle turned her body slightly away from him as if she were trying to hide. “You look worried about it. What’s wrong? Do you not want to do it?”
“I don’t know, I mean, I thought I did, but…”
Emmett pulled her into his lap and wrapped his arms around her.
She glanced up, startled.
“You were too far away from me,” he said, relieved when she didn’t pull away. “So, what happened between ‘I thought I did’ and now? What did Devlin say?”
Elle glanced down and adjusted Cheeta in her arms, spending an inordinate amount of time getting the dog’s feet tucked in just so.
“Elle,” he called softly.
Without raising her head, she answered. “She wants all the models to show their scars.”
Emmett squeezed her against him, finally understanding her hesitancy. “Oh,” he said.
“Yeah, oh,” she mimicked, finally raising her head to look at him.
“And you’re afraid to show your scars.”
“Wouldn’t you be? It’s very personal. I just now showed them to you.” Her angry tone surprised him but Emmett reminded himself that this wasn’t personal. Elle wasn’t angry with him. She was afraid.
“If you’d have seen someone’s picture in a book,” Emmett asked, “someone’s mastectomy scar, back when you were going through it, what would you have thought?”
“I did see it and it scared the crap out of me.”
“And now? If you looked at them, what would you feel?”
“I’m really not sure.”
Elle sat silently and Emmett didn’t interrupt her.
Elle glanced up at him. “Devlin said I can take the photos and then decide.”
“Will there be other women in the book, other women with mastectomies?”
“She’s actually thinking of devoting this first book solely to breast cancer. There’s so many types and so many survivors of breast cancer. Plus, there are some great causes she could donate the proceeds to.”
“And you could be a part of that, Elle.” Emmett gently rubbed her arm.
“I know. It’s just…overwhelming, you know.”
“I’m not going to tell you what to do or act like I know what you’re going through. I will tell you, I think it’s okay for you not to do it. You shouldn’t feel like you have to. I can’t imagine having to go through all of this and share it for the world to see.”
“I don’t know what to do,” Elle said with a sigh. “Part of me feels like I should do it.”
Emmett nodded. “What if someone told you that by being vulnerable, by having your photo taken and placed in the book, you’d help one young woman gain the courage to fight? Would you do it then?”
“Absolutely,” she said with no hesitation. She frowned when he smiled at her response. “That’s not fair, you knew I would say yes.”
“I did.” He laughed.
“What do you think, about the photos I mean, being in the book?”
“It doesn’t matter what I think, Elle. This is about you. About your journey.”
“Of course, it matters,” she said, scooting closer to him. “You’re part of my life. Those photos would be a reflection of you, too.”
“I would show them proudly,” he smiled. “I would be honored to tell people that woman was with me. I’d point and say that courageous, beautiful, strong, talented woman had chosen me.”
Elle smiled and rested her shoulder on his chest.
“It’s for a good cause, Elle. And I think it would help you realize how truly brave you are. It would remind you that you’re never alone. I know you went through this mostly alone, but it doesn’t have to be that way anymore.”
Emmett rubbed his hands down her shoulders, frowning. “Why did you just freeze up?”
Her wide eyes met his but she shook her head. “Just thinking about it, that’s all.”
He let it go, but in that moment, he realized why he’d hesitated to ask her to marry him. Elle was still holding back with him. There was a wall between them. It might be a thin wall, and one that would—he hoped—break down in time, but it was there.
“She wants to include our stories too,” Elle said, obviously unaware he’d felt the tension in her body.
“I think that’s even better,” Emmett said.
She pulled away and glanced up at him. “You do?”
“Yeah, I do. I’ve been reading through the old Elsbeth’s journal. And yours.”
“That’s right, I never got mine back.” She gave him a teasing grin and he was glad to see, and feel her relax a little.
“Do you want it back?” he asked.
“Eventually. Why?”
“I’d like to incorporate both journals in my story.”
Elle stiffened again and he hurried to explain. “They wouldn’t be verbatim. I would paraphrase, but no one would know it’s you. I like the fact that it’s history repeating itself, only this time with a happy ending.”
“What do you mean
?”
“The old Elsbeth struggled as well. She was denied her love for Emmett, Jr. She settled for a life alone, lived as a recluse, except for her photography. She died early. I think it was likely because of a broken heart but my research shows it was pneumonia.”
“You think I’m going to die?” Elle whispered.
“No,” he said hurriedly, shaking his head. “I don’t mean history repeating that way.” Shit.
Elle stared off at a faraway point and Emmett couldn’t rid the empty feeling that had hit his gut at the suggestion she might die.
“Elle?”
She turned to face him. “Do you think you’re going to die?”
“We all are, eventually,” he said.
“That’s not what I mean and you know it. I try not to think about that part of my life. I choose to believe that every day for me is a gift.” She reached out and stroked his jaw. “It’s hard some days, but it’s what I choose to believe.”
Emmett placed his hand over hers and drew in a ragged breath.
“What about you? What do you believe?” She asked him.
Emmett’s breath caught at the sight of his Elle, the beautiful woman sitting in front of him. How could he describe in words what she meant to him, how much he relied on her, how much she motivated and inspired him? What would he do without her?
“I believe in you,” he said quietly.
She smiled, pushing up to press a kiss against his lips.
“I believe in you, too,” she said. “Write your book. I’ll support you no matter what.”
“I’ll support you, too,” Emmett said, sliding his hand down her jaw and around her neck, pulling her closer. “Whatever you decide, photos or not.” He leaned in and kissed her lips, a soft caress, before pulling away. “Which reminds me, I bought my ticket today.”
“Ticket?”
He nodded, as though the answer to her question should be obvious. “To New York for your scan. You said you’d be there the twelfth through the fifteenth, right?”
Elle nodded, then corrected herself. “No. I actually extended the visit. I need to stay a couple extra days for some meetings with Sabine.”
Emmett watched Elle’s face as she studied her dog. Was it his imagination, or was she using the dog at the moment to avoid looking at him? Something about Elle’s rigid countenance said she wasn’t telling him something. Again.