Emily's Cowboy (8 page)

 Then the pain hit, sledgehammer-hard, right in the guts, followed by soul-wrenching sorrow and frustration, anger and finally regret. The full gamut of emotions bombarded him as he struggled to survive the onslaught. He’d known it was coming, had had to be away from Emily before it hit, thus his speedy escape. He did not want her to share this with him. If she could push him away, he could do it to her in return.

“What the fuck have you done?” he screamed, banging his fists on the steering wheel. “What the fuck have you done?”

It took a few minutes, parked safely beside the road, for Gareth to calm down enough to continue driving, and he headed for the only place he had left. He headed to the Jets’ training ground, to the gym, hoping that maybe if he worked out until his body was in physical pain, it would outweigh the emotional agony ripping him apart.

Chapter Ten

Emily had waited for Gareth to return for hours, but he hadn’t appeared. At first she had been furious with him, at the way he had spoken to her, accusing her of just feeling sorry for herself, making light of the terrible scars on her as if they didn’t matter, as if she could just forget that they were there. But then his other words began to rattle around her head, the descriptions of the children, and Emily began to see. Began to realise that he was right—she was hiding. The fire that had failed in its attempt to kill her with flames was close to victory nonetheless, because of her own actions.

She had stared at her reflection, using Gareth’s mirror—stared at it for a long time. It was bad, ugly, but not quite the grotesque vision she had let herself believe. Turning to view her profile one way, Emily could not see any disfigurement at all, no trace of the fire’s wrath. She spun around to view the damaged side of her face and neck. Yes, it was damaged, but it was still her face under the scar tissue—still Emily. Gareth’s Emily. He hadn’t been repulsed by the sight of her—that had been her own reaction. If he could still love her, what more was there? Why did anyone else’s reaction matter? Emily groaned as the full impact of her actions over the last few years sank in. She had been an idiot.

“I have to get him back, have to prove to him how much I love him, how much I want us, all the plans we made…the dreams. I have to show him they’re possible,” Emily sternly told her reflection, not allowing her damaged side to contradict her. She refused to acknowledge that warning voice in her mind that whispered,
If it’s not too late already.

Emily dressed, called a taxi to collect her and left Gareth’s home. She visited with her father, relieved to find him resting comfortably. Self-pity and anger were not consuming
his
every thought. Mac was too busy being happy and thankful that he was alive and relatively in one piece.

They talked long into the afternoon and early evening. Emily told her father how she had pushed Gareth away and why. She admitted she still loved him and feared she had finally pushed one too many times and succeeded in driving him away, even though she now wished with all her heart she hadn’t.

Mac listened sympathetically to Emily’s sorrowful tale, a captive audience, shaking his head and tutting in all the right places. Finally, he spoke.

“Em, honey, you need to show him. You need to put yourself out there for Gareth and prove to him you are ready for him and to return to the world, no matter what the result is. Gareth loves you, Em. It has been pretty darn obvious to all of us around you both, and I might just add that as a father, that was not an easy thing to see, to watch blossom, that love between you. There were times I wanted to take a shotgun to him—all those nights you crept into the house, looking dishevelled. A blind man would have known what Gareth and you were up to. But you know why I didn’t shoot him in his young backside, Em? Because Gareth is a good man, and more importantly, because he loves you. What more could a father ask for than that?”

“Oh, Dad…” Emily’s voice was choked with emotion in response to her father’s heartfelt and wise words. “And there I was, thinking I was pulling the wool over your eyes all this time, and you knew! Bit embarrassing really, and really quite uncomfortable… Ewww… Let’s not talk about this again, okay?”

Despite the fact that her Dad had known she was having sex, and specifically when, Emily ignored the embarrassment this new information brought. “What shall I do, Dad? Any ideas? Seeing as you are all-knowing, apparently.” Emily smiled at the father she loved so much. She was so relieved he was going to be okay, still around to give her advice and love her unconditionally, despite her flaws.

“Go to a game, sit with his friends. Show Gareth with actions, not words, that you can face what will be a moment of scrutiny, and the inevitable questions that will follow. For him. Rook’s number…he left it in the bedside cupboard. Find it, call him. Ask him and his fiancée to help you.”

Mac was right. Her dad had come up with the perfect way for her to show Gareth she wanted to be with him, part of his life. Emily found Rook’s number and placed the call.

* * * *

In what was probably a much better result in the long run, Pippa had answered Rook’s phone. It had been so much easier for Emily to talk with Pippa, another female—to tell her all her fears, her desires and her mistakes. A deluge of words and emotions had rushed from Emily’s mouth like water spewing through the open floodgates of Warragamba Dam. Pippa had then insisted on coming to the hospital so that they could continue their conversation in person.

Pippa had listened and understood what Emily wanted to achieve, agreed with the plan, and had offered to help, to introduce her to some of the wives and girlfriends of other Jets players and have Emily seated with them for company. They’d both agreed that they would keep Gareth in the dark about the plan, that Emily would just be there at the end of the game, amongst the other partners waiting at the door as the men left the changing room.

Pippa had even been outraged on Emily’s behalf that Gareth had spoken so brutally, but conceded the fact his intentions had been in Emily’s best interest, even if delivered perhaps too harshly. Pippa had tenderly inspected her scar tissue, so professional and yet caring at the same time that Emily had not thought to turn away from her light touch. Pippa had promised Emily that it was not as bad as she imagined—yes, noticeable, but not the monstrous face Emily had portrayed it to be. She’d offered advice on new lotions and medicated ointments that would help relieve some of the discomfort Emily felt in the damaged tissue when she was overtired or stressed.

Emily had stayed with Pippa and Rook for the rest of the week, visiting her father during the days and spending the evenings getting to know her gracious hosts better. Clearly Pippa and Gareth were very close, so Emily was enjoying the fact that Pippa was in her corner on this—her mission to get Gareth back, or as Rook liked to joke, ‘corralling the Cowboy’. Emily felt a bond growing with Rook and Pippa, one she wanted to explore. They were good people. Rook was quick with a lighthearted remark when things got too heavy or sad, and Pippa was so nice, so genuine. If it hadn’t been for Mac being still in hospital and everything hanging over her head with regards to Gareth, Emily would have felt as if she were on holiday, hanging out with friends. The idea of Gareth beside her while she spent time with Pippa and Rook was even more appealing.

Gareth had not contacted her at all. He had phoned Mac at the hospital, spoken to him at length, but not visited in person. Emily could only assume he did not want to run into her, and the thought that she might be too late haunted her.

But Rook confided in her, broke Gareth’s confidence in an attempt to ease her worry.

“Cowboy is miserable without you, hon. He’s been grouching around not talking to anyone…even more than usual.” Rook smirked, putting his arm around her as a show of support, one Emily was truly grateful for. “Haven’t even had to make up an excuse to keep him away—that in itself is quite the insight into how low he’s feeling. Usually he runs to Pippa at the drop of a hat. Those two are very tight, and even though I tease them about it—and don’t you dare tell either of them—I love the fact they are so close. Gareth’s a good buddy, a top bloke. A friend you can count on and trust. I’ve never seen him with another woman. He hates the groupies and now I understand why. Why would he want another woman when he has someone as beautiful as you in his life? He’s a lucky man.”

The endorsement from Rook of her beauty and his confirmation of Gareth’s fidelity were just what Emily had needed to hear. She could tell that Rook wasn’t the type to wax lyrical just to make someone feel better. He was a straight shooter. Genuine. And his words made her stronger, solidified her strength to fight for Gareth.

“Thanks so much, Rook. I really appreciate what you and Pippa have done for me, and how you care for Gareth. I’m going to try. I want Gareth in my life, was an idiot to have taken this long to realise.”

“You’re not the first one to not see what was staring you in the face, Emily, and you won’t be the last. God, took me years before I finally realised Pippa was the only woman for me, and I tell you I’m never letting her go.” Love for his fiancée lit up Rook’s face and it gladdened Emily’s heart to know these two wonderful people had found each other. She listened as Rook continued, “I’ve already got plan B in mind if Gareth doesn’t get it when you show up at the game. I figured between me and the boys we can drag him to Jetstream, fill his belly full of whisky, then you can use some of your cowgirl ropes to tie him to his bed. You do have ropes, don’tcha, Cowgirl?” he added with a grin. “Just don’t untie him until he gives in.”

Laughing at Rook’s idea, Emily could see the possibilities in having Gareth tied to his bed and at her mercy. Thoughts of all the things she could do to his muscular, gorgeous body filled her mind. She could spend hours just exploring him, tasting him, and she thought of her mouth filled with his hard cock as she teased and drove him wild with need, but held him back just on the edge. She could almost taste him, feel the length of him, so hard, yet smooth at the same time. Taste the saltiness of the pre-cum as it leaked from the head of his shaft. She would lap the fluid up greedily, lick and lave his length, gently nip the sensitive flesh over the blue vein that would be pulsating along his swollen cock. Drive his desire higher and further than she ever had before, until his cum filled her mouth. Spurt after warm spurt, she would drink him in, drink him dry.

Then, just to torment him some more, she would pleasure herself before his hungry eyes. She could see them now in her mind—his blue eyes a shade darker, filled with passion for her as he watched her bring herself to orgasm without being able to touch her. She imagined that it would not take her long to achieve a climax after having spent so much time pleasuring him—she would be wet and needy and ready to explode—but she would draw it out for him. She’d manipulate her own nipples with her fingertips, pinch and roll them, maybe lean in near his lips so that he could have a quick taste of the protruding red nubs, but only a short taste, just enough to leave him wanting, ready to forgive her. To trust her again to love him forever.

“Hellooo…? Emily, you still in there, Cowgirl? I’m thinking by the look on your face you have a few ideas how to help ‘ole Cowboy on the road to recovery then. That’s a hell of a wicked grin you’re sporting. Almost feel sorry for the guy.”

Emily’s face was burning and it had nothing to do with her scars—it was from the heat of her embarrassment over Rook’s accurate observation of her thoughts. She loved the fact that Rook had taken to calling her Cowgirl, especially as it was a fitting match for his name for Gareth—Cowboy.

“Yep, busted. I do have a few interesting ideas rolling around in my head. Ideas I think might be quite persuasive.” She giggled, a sound she had forgotten she could make. It sounded strange, girlish. Carefree. The attention Rook was giving her, the look on his face, was hysterical.

“Rook… Stop looking at me like that.” Emily grinned, rubbing her hands together in wicked delight over her plans. “Your buddy will be safe in my hands…I promise. It just may take him a while to recover.”

“Well, I seem to have missed out on something big, by the look of you two. ‘Thick as thieves’, I think the saying goes.” Pippa joined them, a large bowl of bolognese in her hands, her eyes twinkling. She was clearly amused at the sight of Rook’s and Emily’s mirth. “You two aren’t thinking up any nasty scenarios for my good friend, now, are you? I won’t feed you—either of you—if you have anything too wicked in mind. Poor Gareth.”

The laughter, hers and Rook’s, mingled together even louder at Pippa’s lighthearted threats, and for Emily it was so welcome, such a tonic to her soul that she was beginning to believe that everything
would
work out fine.

How could it not, with so many people in her corner? Gareth didn’t stand a chance. All she had to do was meet a few people, and if they were anything like Rook and Pippa, how hard could it be? She would answer the questions about her face, give the details of the fire, get it all out in the open, ignore the stares, and her life would be perfect.

Chapter Eleven

It had taken all of Gareth’s resolve not to go, on bended knee, and beg Emily to forgive him, to forget what he had said, to give him another chance, but he had stayed strong.

Strong and abjectly miserable.

Training had not helped, had not lessened the pain. Not wanting to be around anyone or to have to explain his mood, Gareth had kept a low profile. He had gone straight home after training, hidden out in his cave of misery, pretended it would be all right, that he would eventually feel better, get over Emily. He especially had not wanted to be around Pippa. Not only would she have picked up on his misery immediately, but her life was so happy now. She and Rook were always giving each other loving glances, cuddling and kissing, and had their hands on each other constantly. Gareth hadn’t thought he could take it, the constant reminder of how things should be with him and Emily.