Engulfing Emma (The Men on Fire Series)

by Samantha Christy

  I can’t wait to go out with the guys and celebrate our victory. It feels like we just won the goddamn Super Bowl.

  I hear a noise and look over at the door. Emma is leaning in the doorway, staring at me.

  “Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes,” I say. I take off the oxygen mask. “Come here.”

  She moves slowly across the room, her face red and puffy, all her makeup having been cried away. Damn. I was hoping she wouldn’t be aware of what had happened until it was over. Denver told me he spoke to her earlier, and she was really worried. I can’t imagine what she must have been thinking.

  Fresh tears pour out of her eyes when she reaches me.

  “It’s fine,” I tell her. “I’m okay.”

  She throws herself on top of me, holding me tightly. I let her hug me as long and as hard as she needs to. She shakes as she cries on my chest.

  “It’s okay, sweetheart.”

  She straightens. “It’s not okay.” Then she stands. “Nothing about this is okay.” She steps away from the bed. “I can’t do this, Brett. It’s too hard. I should have stood my ground.”

  “But nothing happened, Emma. I’m here. The mask and IV are just a precaution. They’re giving me fluids because I got dehydrated. I don’t have a scratch on me.”

  “This time,” she says, taking another step back. “But there will always be a next time. And I’m not going to put my daughter through what I went through.”

  “What are you saying?”

  “I’m saying that Evelyn will be upset not having you around. She’ll be sad for a while. But that will be a whole lot easier than her falling in love with you and treating you like a father and you treating her like a daughter and then you leaving her like my dad left me.”

  I reach out for her, but she moves farther away. “I’m not going to leave you.”

  “Can you promise that?” she cries. “Can you promise you won’t leave us?”

  “You know I can’t. But you can’t make that promise either. How can you stand there and realistically say you’ll never be in an accident or get cancer? Nobody can predict the future.”

  “But the risks you take,” she says.

  “I’m good at what I do. Great, in fact. I don’t take unnecessary risks. I play it safe more often than not. Hell, I’m more likely to get hurt in a pickup game of football with my friends on Thanksgiving.”

  She wipes her eyes. “Are you saying my dad wasn’t a good firefighter?”

  “Jesus, I can’t win here, can I? Of course I’m not saying that.”

  “I’m sorry, Brett. I can’t put Evelyn through this.”

  I sit on the edge of the bed, unable to get up because I’m tethered to the IV bag. “I wish you would quit hiding behind your daughter, Emma. At least own up to it and tell me the truth—that you don’t want to be with me because you’re the one who’s scared. Because you don’t care enough about me to understand how important my job is. Because you’d rather give this up than try to have something incredible.”

  “My parents had something incredible, and now they don’t.”

  “And you think your mom would take it all back if she could? You think she would choose to have never met him?”

  She shakes her head. “I don’t know. All I know is how I feel. I’m glad you’re okay, I really am. But I have to do what I think is best for Evelyn and me. Goodbye, Brett.”

  She moves to the door. I’m stunned. I can’t believe it’s going to end like this. “Emma!” I shout, making her turn around before she leaves.

  She is sadder than I’ve ever seen her. More devastated even than when she was a hostage in the storage closet.

  “I love you,” I say.

  A tear escapes her eye and rolls down her cheek. “I know,” she says. Then she walks out the door.

  ~ ~ ~

  As if today weren’t bad enough, I have to add insult to injury by sitting in the front window, drinking a beer, hoping to catch a glimpse of Emma. If I’m being honest, drinking several beers. I figure I’m entitled. Today has been a shitty day by most standards.

  Before Leo went to bed, he just had to make me play with the donkey. He loves that stupid thing. It’s become his favorite toy. And damn it, every time I hear the audible burp or the “hee-haw,” it reminds me of her. I’d step on the cheap piece of plastic and grind it to bits if I didn’t think Leo would hate me for it.

  “That’s a lonely sight,” Bonnie says, coming into the room and flipping on the light. “A man sitting in the dark, drinking a beer while spying on his ex.”

  I take a drink. “Turn off the light, Bonnie, and let me wallow in my patheticness.”

  “Patheticness? Is that even a word?”

  “It is today.”

  She turns off the light. “I’ll give you today,” she says. “But I’m not about to stand around and watch you self-destruct. There are plenty of other fish in the sea.”

  “G’night, Bonnie,” I say, turning away from her.

  “Goodnight, Brett.”

  I look out the window again. Her room is dark. I wonder what she’s doing. Is she even thinking about me? How can someone just turn off their feelings like that?

  My phone pings with a text.

  Evie: Hey.

  Me: Hey, yourself.

  Evie: I saw that building on the news tonight. Mom and Grandma said you were there but you’re okay. I was just checking.

  Me: They’re right. I’m okay.

  Evie: Good. The fire looked bad. Mom’s been hiding in her room all day. She must have been really worried about you.

  It dawns on me that maybe Emma hasn’t told Evie she tossed me to the curb.

  Me: I’m sure she was. That’s perfectly normal. But everything is fine.

  Evie: You’re not lying to me, are you? You really are okay? Are we still going to the benefit on Saturday?

  Me: There isn’t a scratch on me. About the benefit, I’ll be there for sure, but you’ll have to ask your mom if she still plans on going.

  Evie: Why wouldn’t she be going?

  I don’t even know how to answer that. So I don’t.

  Evie: Brett, why wouldn’t Mom be going? We’ve been planning this for weeks. We have a ton of flour and sugar in our kitchen.

  Damn it, Emma.

  Evie: Did something happen? What aren’t you telling me?

  Me: I’m not sure this is a conversation you and I should be having.

  Evie: OMG. She broke up with you, didn’t she?

  Me: Today was very hard on her. She was feeling all kinds of emotions she hadn’t felt since your grandpa died.

  Evie: How could she do that?

  Me: I don’t know. Listen, if you want to talk, let’s talk about something else. Are you ready to go back to school next week?

  Evie: School? I can’t talk about school at a time like this. We have to figure out a way to get you and Mom back together. I can do recon on this end. I’m sure I can get Grandma in on it too. But you have to do your part. When my best friend, Karoline, got dumped by her boyfriend last month, she made him jealous by kissing Kyle Young. Maybe you could make her jealous. You know, not for real, but maybe you have a friend who could pretend to be your date, and I can make sure Mom looks out the window and sees you.

  Me: Slow down, Nancy Drew.

  Evie: Who’s that? Is she a woman you can use to make Mom jealous?

  Me: I’m not going to use anyone to make your mom jealous.

  Evie: But it can work. Don’t you even want to try?

  Of course I want to try, I just don’t think there is anything I can say or do to change her mind.

  Evie: Can I tell you something?

  Me: Always.

  Evie: Back in Germany when I told Stefan I was happy with the way things were, and I didn’t need a father, I meant it. I’ve always meant it. Until I met you, I never knew what I was missing in my life. Now I know.

  I close my eyes and nod. God, I love that kid. Who knew this precocious twelve-year-old could work
her way into my heart the way she has.

  Me: I feel the same way about you, Evie. About both of you. In some ways I feel like the two of you complete my family. I wish things could be different.

  Evie: Me too.

  Leo is making a lot of noise through the baby monitor.

  Me: I have to go. Leo needs me. We’ll talk soon. Maybe I’ll see you Saturday. I’ll be at the dunking booth if you want to find me.

  Evie: We’ll be there, I promise.

  Me: Goodnight.

  I go upstairs to Leo’s room and find him standing up in his crib. “What’s up, buddy? Bad dream?”

  As I walk over, I get a whiff of his diaper and realize what the problem is. I laugh. “Poopy diaper.” I pick him up and flick on the light before taking him to the changing table.

  “Poopy donkey,” he says while I change him.

  “Thankfully, donkey’s poops aren’t as messy as yours.” I give him a meaningful stare. “Never eat your poop, Leo. Yuck.”

  He giggles. I pick him up.

  “Kiss, Daddy,” he says.

  He puckers up, and I give him a smooch.

  Returning to his crib, I can’t help looking out the window. It’s become more a habit than anything. But I’m surprised at what I see.

  I didn’t expect Emma to be standing at her window. Does she see me? Is she having second thoughts?

  I walk up to the window with Leo still in my arms. She sees me and starts to back away. I put my palm against the glass.

  She hesitates, then draws the curtains.

  I look at Leo. “I really thought she was the one.”

  He yawns and puts his head on my shoulder.

  “Yeah, I’m tired too,” I say, turning off his light. “Come on, you can sleep with me tonight.”

  Chapter Thirty-six

  Emma

  “I can’t believe we’ve already sold half of everything, Grandma,” Evelyn says, reaching under the table to get more bags of cookies. “Carter is going to get an awesome leg.”

  “And it’s only been an hour,” Mom says. “There’s two more hours to go. If we’re lucky, we’ll sell out.”

  I look in the fanny pack I’ve been using to collect money. Looks like there’s over five hundred bucks in there. It’s amazing what people will pay for things when they know all the proceeds are being donated to a good cause.

  The event organizer called me earlier this week and went over what prices I should charge for my baked goods. I thought she was crazy. But she told me to trust her. She does these charity functions all the time. And she was right.

  I couldn’t be happier for Carter.

  I check out booths selling crafts and specialty foods; they seem to be doing well too. There are also several carnival games across the lawn and a silent auction for some higher-priced items.

  “Why don’t you and Evie play some of the games,” Mom says. “The initial rush is over. I can handle it myself for a while.”

  I don’t want to. If I walk around, I’m more likely to run into Brett. I’ve done everything I can to avoid doing that over the past week. I’ve stopped going to the corner market. I make sure I’m not walking to work the same time he’s getting off a shift. I don’t look at his townhouse.

  Complete and total avoidance. That’s what’s become of my life. But tonight is the night I take the first step toward a new me. I let Becca’s husband set me up with one of his friends. Dan Daughtry is the guy’s name. He teaches at a school in Manhattan. And he’s exactly the kind of man I should be dating.

  I won’t tell Evelyn, however. She’s been giving me the cold shoulder since I broke things off with Brett.

  “Oh, yes, please?” Evelyn asks, suddenly okay with speaking to me. “I saw some fun things I really want to do.”

  “Okay,” I say reluctantly and hand my mother the fanny pack. “We’ll be back in twenty minutes.”

  “Take all the time you need. I’ll be fine here.”

  Evelyn claps her hands. “I know right where I want to go.” She pulls me across the lawn to the dunking booth.

  I look at her sideways. “Wouldn’t you rather do the ring toss or something?”

  “I want to do this.”

  “Evelyn, I’ve never seen you throw a ball in your life. You do realize you have to hit a fairly small target.”

  “Come on. It’s only five dollars for three tries,” she says. “It’s for Carter’s leg. We’ll do the ring toss next.”

  I dig in my pocket and hand her the money. There are a lot of people standing in line. This seems to be the most popular game. When we get closer and I read the sign, I see why: DUNK A FIREFIGHTER

  I don’t want to look, but I force myself to. When I see who’s sitting on the platform above the water, I know exactly why Evelyn was so eager to come over here. “Did you know Brett was going to be doing this?”

  She shrugs.

  “You’re still talking to him, aren’t you?”

  “Mom, he’s my friend.”

  “Evelyn, he’s thirty years old. You’re twelve. It’s not right.”

  She puts her hands on her hips and gives me a stern look. “You want to talk about what’s not right? How about two people who are crazy about each other but can’t be together because one of them is being ridiculously stupid about it?”

  “I’m not going over this again,” I say, trying to pull her out of line.

  “Mom, I’m doing this. You’ll have to throw me over your shoulder and carry me out of here. But I’m pretty sure you don’t want to cause a scene.”

  I huff my displeasure. “We’ll talk about this later.”

  I watch the booth out of the corner of my eye. Maybe he’ll go on a break before we make it up there.

  He gets dunked one time before it’s Evelyn’s turn. His FDNY T-shirt is plastered to his skin, outlining his tight torso and sculpted abs. I try to look anywhere but at him, then mentally kick myself when I do it anyway.

  “My turn!” Evelyn says excitedly.

  She waves to Brett and steps up to the line marked on the ground. He waves back. He sees me and lifts his chin as if to say hello. I dip my chin in response to be polite.

  “Hi, Ms. Lockhart,” says the boy holding the softballs.

  “Hello, Jay.”

  I was so focused on Brett that I didn’t notice Jay until he said my name. “This is my daughter, Evelyn.”

  “You mean the famous Evie?” He hands her a ball. “It’s nice to meet you. Brett has told me a lot about you.”

  Evelyn scowls at me. “Did he tell you my mother broke up with him?”

  Jay looks surprised. “Uh, no. He didn’t tell me that. That sucks.”

  “It sucks bad,” she says. “Did you hear that, Mom? Everyone thinks it sucks.”

  “Just throw the ball, Evelyn.”

  She winds up and makes her throw, missing the target by ten feet.

  On her second attempt, she hits the front of the tank; closer to her goal but still laughably far off. Wow, she really is bad at this.

  The last ball goes up and over the glass and right into the tank, where Brett snatches it. He smugly tosses it into the air and catches it.

  “You should try, Mom. You’re on that softball team for teachers.”

  “That’s okay. I’ll pass.”

  “It’s for charity, you know,” Jay says.

  Crap. I’m being bullied into this by my daughter and Brett’s little protégé.

  I pull out another five-dollar bill and hand it to Jay. He tries to give me three balls. I push two away. “I only need one.”

  I shake my head, not quite believing this whole situation. I wind up and zero in on the target. Then I release the ball and watch it slice through the air, hitting the bullseye only slightly off center. The seat falls, dropping Brett in the water.

  “You did it!” Evelyn screams as spectators clap behind us.

  “What’s next?” I ask, needing to get away from here as quickly as possible.

  “Emma?” a man calls
. “Emma Lockhart!”

  A young man on crutches approaches us. He’s missing a leg. My heart melts and I break into a smile when I see Carter. I immediately walk over and pull him into a hug, careful not to throw him off balance.

  “Carter, it’s so nice to see you.” His face is full of color, like he’s been out in the sun. “You look fantastic.”

  “Thank you. It’s probably because I lost twenty pounds.”

  I look at him, confused. He doesn’t seem any thinner.

  “Amputee joke,” he says, laughing.

  “Oh.” I laugh with him. “I’m glad to see you’re in such good spirits.”

  He sweeps his crutch around, motioning at our surroundings. “Can you believe all of this? It’s unreal that people are here just for me.”

  “Believe it,” I say. “You’re a survivor, Carter.”

  “Thanks to you,” he says.

  I shake my head. “No. Not thanks to me.”

  “You kept me alive until Brett got there,” he says. “You guys are my heroes. Both of you.” He looks over my shoulder. “Hey, speak of the devil.”

  My heart jumps. Oh, God.

  “Carter, great to see you,” Brett says, offering him a hand. He looks at me. “Emma.”

  I nod hello.

  A woman joins us, looking like she’s about to cry. “This is my mom, Grace,” Carter says.

  “What you did for my Carter—I’ll never be able to thank you. Oh, heavens, I need a picture of the three of you. Is that okay?”

  “Give me a second,” Brett says. “I’m soaking wet. Let me get some of the water out of this shirt. It’ll make for a better picture.”

  Then, right here in the middle of everyone, he takes off his wet FDNY shirt, wrings it out several times, and then puts it back on. I try to get myself to look away.