Every Little Kiss (25 page)

A pause. “Not so much.”

“You—you shot him.” She tried to imagine that and found she couldn’t. That was a part of himself he hadn’t shared with her, the part that had gone to war, that was
trained to kill if need be. It wasn’t upsetting so much as it was simply alien to her.

“I did. The alternative wasn’t so great. His girlfriend was already critical when he answered the door. We just didn’t know.” He’d shifted from sounding glad to hear her voice to sounding puzzled. “Are you okay? I wanted to catch you before you heard anything, but we had a mess here and they wouldn’t let me go before the EMTs cleaned up my head.”

She felt as though she’d been punched. “Your
head
? He tried to shoot you in the head?”

“That’s where a lot of people aim, yeah. . . . Emma, it’s not even that deep, I promise. I’m fine. I just want to wrap this up and see you. I couldn’t find my damn phone—this is Mark’s—but I didn’t want you to worry.”

Her laugh was nothing more than a harsh rush of air. “You could have died.”

“No, this is what we train for.” Then she heard it, his weariness creeping in, and the vise around her chest gave another squeeze. “Listen, I’m hoping I can get out of here before too much longer. Can I see you? Come there, tonight?”

The thought of seeing him right now was overwhelming. She wanted it so badly that it was physically painful. And that was the problem. There was so much adrenaline coursing through her system that she didn’t know which end was up. Another couple of tears escaped from the corners of her eyes, frustrating her, and she swiped at them with a shaky hand.

“Is this going to happen again?” she asked.

“What?”

“You getting shot at. You nearly getting a bullet in your brain from some dirtbag. Me not knowing for hours
whether you’re okay, just hearing rumors about dead people and downed officers.”

He swore softly. “Emma, I wish I’d gotten word to you sooner. The Cove doesn’t get a lot of murders. There are things we had to do, and the time moves faster than you think it does.”

“You didn’t answer my question.” She was beginning to sound foggy from trying not to cry, but there was nothing to be done for it. She was sure he heard it, and just as sure he had no idea what to do about it. Since she didn’t, either, that was sort of satisfying.

“This is my job. It could happen again, sure, because it’s my job. But you knew I was a cop. I work at being a good cop so I don’t get killed.
I’m okay
, Emma.”

“I know. This time.” But she wasn’t naive enough to think that coming out on top in a confrontation was always due to talent. Some of it was pure luck, and luck was a fickle thing. “I thought you were dead. I honestly thought you were gone. You know what that feels like.” Her voice quavered, and she hated it. She hated this feeling, too, like she’d been scraped raw, every nerve exposed and completely vulnerable. Everything she’d built on the damaged foundation of the girl she’d been had crumbled in an instant, revealing the cracks and flaws.

He sighed, and she could hear all the activity in the background, other people cleaning up what sounded like a mess.

“I do know. I want to see you, Emma. There are some things I need to—I just need to see you. It was a rough night. Please.”

She closed her eyes again, wishing she had some kind of defenses against what she felt for him. Anything. Instead, she knew that seeing him right now would wreck her utterly. Whatever he asked, she’d give, and more. Just
being able to touch him would melt away all her misgivings. He wouldn’t even have to profess his love—only his need for her. And at some point, she would get to go through this all over again. Or worse. Because however much she loved him now, she sensed that she had even more to give. And if he should go, he would take all of that love with him, leaving her empty . . . all over again.

She’d thought she could take the risk. But she’d forgotten how it felt to have her heart torn out—and this was just a taste.

“I can’t.” She forced out the words, her throat stinging. “I need some time. I forgot, Seth. I forgot what this feels like. I don’t know if I can do this right now.”
Or ever. I promised myself I wouldn’t ever feel like this again.

“You were scared. I completely understand, Emma. I know this isn’t what you expected or wanted, but if you’ll just let me see you. I need to tell you—”

“I can’t,” she said quickly, cutting him off. Whatever he’d meant to say, she was in no condition to hear it. She sensed that even the smallest endearment from him would steamroll her, and she had to be able to think instead of just feeling. All she could do right now was feel, and it made her want to crawl out of her skin.

“I’m so glad you’re safe, Seth,” she added softly. “You couldn’t know how much. I just need some time.”

Another long pause. And finally, quietly, he said simply, “I understand.”

Somehow, she managed to tell him good-bye. Then Emma hung up, beginning to shake so badly that she dropped the phone. For a time she stayed where she was, crying softly in the hall, head in her hands, while her cat cried plaintively for her on the other side. Finally, though, she managed to get to her feet, going back in only to throw a few simple things in a bag and collect Boof.

By the time she got in her car, she was beginning to go numb. It wouldn’t last, but Emma welcomed the numbness, hoping it stayed long enough to let her fall into the temporary oblivion of sleep. She was the girl who had never run away, but right now, that was all she wanted to do. She wanted to go anywhere she wouldn’t have to deal with the fear she was feeling. Anywhere she wouldn’t have to deal with herself.

Instead, Emma went to the only safe place she had left—her mother’s.

She’d been so ready to hand Seth her heart, to expose the part of herself she held most closely. Maybe she should be grateful for the reminder of the sorts of wounds love could inflict, deeper than any weapon could achieve.

Once, she’d been a girl who had slept with her father’s pillow, spraying it with his cologne so even the ghosts of his memory wouldn’t desert her. But she’d grown up . . . and she never wanted to be that girl again.

“W
e’re staging an intervention.”

Emma looked up from where she sat slumped at the kitchen island to see Sam and her mother watching her from the doorway. She didn’t move, barely bothering to arch her eyebrow.

“There are only two of you. That’s not an intervention. And I don’t need one anyway.” She tipped down the side of the pint of marshmallow fudge ice cream sitting at her elbow, realized she’d eaten it all, and heaved a gusty sigh. There was probably a blob of it on her sweatshirt, but she hadn’t sunk that low yet.

She heard them approaching, heard the stools being scraped against the wood floor as they settled themselves directly across from her so that she couldn’t ignore them. Emma looked up, resigned. She’d known this was coming, after all. You didn’t go from being a go-getting entrepreneur to a listless slob in the space of a week without people worrying.

Especially when you’d basically moved back in with your mother because you couldn’t handle being alone.

“Emmie,” Andi started, “you know I love having you here. But what you’re doing to yourself isn’t healthy.”

“I get up in the mornings. I go to work, and to events,” Emma pointed out. “I eat. I’m bathing.”

“Sure, you work. And the second you get home, you turn into . . . this,” Sam said, indicating her sister with a bewildered expression. “I didn’t even know you
had
a sweatshirt.”

“I don’t. It’s yours,” Emma replied, which earned her a disgruntled look.

“Honey,” Andi said gently, “you normally love what you do. I know what happened the other night hit you pretty hard, but . . . you haven’t even talked to Seth.”

She flinched a little. No, she hadn’t talked to him. Nor had he tried very hard to talk to her. One quick phone call to check on her Friday, and that had been it. Granted, she’d refused to see him that day, too, but she’d at least expected him to fight a little harder. To push her into seeing some benefit to being with a man she was constantly at risk of losing. As it was, she’d begun to think that she’d imagined what was between them, at least on his part.

That she’d fallen in love with another illusion.

The pain of even considering that was almost as bad as what she’d experienced Thursday night. Almost.

“Well, he hasn’t made any more of an effort than I have, so don’t just blame me,” Emma said. Sam and Andi exchanged a look. “What?” Emma asked, annoyed. She loved them, but it had always made her crazy when they’d kept things from her.

“He may not be calling,” Andi said, “but he asks about you.”

At Emma’s blank look, Sam elaborated. “He’s been into Diamonds and Perls a couple of times to make sure you’re okay. And into the gallery once.”

She stiffened, though she couldn’t stop the way her
heartbeat quickened, or the warmth that flooded her. Whatever he’d felt, it was strong enough to keep checking after her. So not all her feelings had been wasted. It was a struggle to keep her voice neutral. “He could have just called.”

“Oh? Would you have talked to him?”

Emma hesitated. She wanted to talk to him. She desperately wanted to see him. But she wasn’t a big fan of inflicting pain on herself, and what would she say? Asking him to get a different job was unfair. Being a police officer was part of who he was. Telling him not to get injured and killed was just stupid—he didn’t want to have those things happen, either. And telling him she loved him now—what good would that do? He probably wasn’t any more ready to hear it than he was a week ago. Besides, her love couldn’t save him from the things that might take him away from her, no matter how much she wished it.

“I don’t know,” she finally said.

“Well, I do. You wouldn’t have, because you’re scared to death,” Andi said. Emma looked up sharply from toying with the empty ice-cream container.

“You of all people should understand why,” she said, hearing the edge in her voice. “He could have
died
, Mom. Just like that, for no good reason. And he’s going to put himself in a position to have the same thing happen over and over and over.”

Andi nodded. “Not if he can help it, but yes, he would do it again. That’s the kind of man he is. Honey, he and the other officer are probably the reason Jenny Blankenship isn’t dead. You don’t think saving a life is a good reason to risk your own?”

Emma felt her jaw tighten as she stared down at the rustic wood of the island. She knew the answer. But that didn’t mean she had to like it. “I just don’t want him to
risk his. I don’t—I don’t want to lose him.” It was difficult to even form the words, but she needed to get them out, and her mother and sister were the only two people on earth she could bare herself to this way. “I knew when I met him he was a risk. I didn’t want to take the chance. But I couldn’t get him out of my head, and he was so easy to be with. So I let myself think nothing could happen here, that it was okay. And it’s not. One day he could walk out the door and never come back.”

“Any of them could,” Sam said gently. “One of us could. Would you rather give us up completely, just in case?”

Emma rubbed at her nose. After years of avoiding it almost completely, crying seemed to be one of her new hobbies. It made her angry, but that never seemed to stop the tears. “No,” she said, her voice foggy. “Don’t be stupid. You’re my family. It’s different.”

“Yes and no. You could choose to shut us out anyway. I’m glad you don’t, so don’t get any ideas, but it’s always a choice,” Sam said. “I remember losing Dad. I remember how long it took all of us to come through that. Just like I remember worrying that I might lose you or Mom, for a long time afterward. I
still
worry. You two are my anchors. I’d be devastated if I lost you. But my life would be so much poorer without you that not having you in it isn’t even a choice I could make.” She reached across the table to take Emma’s hand. “It’s the same with Jake. If I lost him tomorrow, I still wouldn’t trade a second of what I’ve had with him.”

“Yeah, well, he’s more likely to get scratched or bitten at his job than shot or stabbed,” Emma said, though she didn’t pull her hand away. The comfort of that connection was something she needed—and she felt the truth of every word her sister said about being anchored by the love she had for her family. They were her constants,
even when Sam had been physically gone from town. Just knowing she was out there, only a phone call away and always willing to talk, had been a balm when she’d needed it. And now that she was here, the distance between them bridged almost as if it had never existed, Emma couldn’t imagine what she’d do without her.

“Em, bad things can happen to anyone, anytime they walk out the door. Dad is a perfect example. He didn’t do anything that should have put him at risk, but the cancer happened anyway.”

“I’ve been through what you’re afraid of, Emmie,” Andi said. “Remember that. You didn’t just lose a father. I lost my husband. The love of my life. He was, too,” she said with a sweet, sad smile. “He grounded me, supported me, loved me in spite of the sniping that lasted for years after we married because I wasn’t a local girl, just some flighty flake he’d picked up at a ski resort. Typical Henry, they said.” She laughed. “And he was. He went his own way, followed his heart. But Bill was steady as a rock. I needed that steadiness just like he needed my passion, and what we made together was solid, real. I loved him dearly, even when it wasn’t perfect or easy. That love gave me a lot of good years, a lot of beautiful memories. It gave me the two of you.” She looked pointedly at Emma. “Your dad scared me, too, honey. I was a free spirit. I didn’t want to settle down. I thought it would be the end of who I was, all my dreams. But if I’d walked away, I would have missed out on all the dreams we made together. The family we made together. And even though I miss him every day, I will never regret loving him with everything I had.” Her eyes, full of emotion, shimmered in the light. “I don’t want to see you miss out on a love like that, Emmie.”

Emma sat very still while her mother’s words washed
over her, resonating even in the parts of herself she’d kept locked away in a desperate attempt to protect them. And for what? She was hurting right now because of things that might be, instead of hanging on to the things that already were, and reaching for all she might have if she was brave enough to try.

Her mother was right. The beauty and love that had come from her father’s life far outweighed the pain. He’d been worth the risk Andi had taken. Just as Seth would be worth the risk she would have to take.

Emma let out a long, shaking breath. “You’re right. You’re both right.”

Sam smiled. “Can I get a recording of that?”

Andi gave her daughter a look. “Sam.”

“No, really,” Emma said, giving her sister’s hand a squeeze, and then rising to walk around the island and wrap her arms around her mother. She’d kept a lot of hugs to herself over the years, but this one felt right. Andi held her tightly, enveloping her in the warmth and scents of home. “I shouldn’t have run. I didn’t know what to do. I love him so much, Mom. I don’t want to lose him, but I was so scared—”

“I know, honey,” her mother said, stroking her hair. “I think he knows, too. He’s been through enough to understand. But he needs you as much as you need him. When he came in the other day, that was clear. I know it’s against your nature, but maybe just try letting yourself love him. The rest will follow.”

Emma nodded, her head clearer than it had been in days, and pulled away to look at the two most important women in her life—her family. “I guess I did need an intervention. I love you guys. Really. So much.”

“We love you, too,” Sam said. “Which is why the intervention isn’t over until you throw my sweatshirt in the
wash, get in the shower, and then put on some pearls or something. I feel like the universe is out of whack with you like this.”

Emma smiled, feeling immeasurably lighter. But there was more, a sense of urgency that pushed her to rush upstairs and start getting herself together so she could make things right. With the paralyzing terror gone, what remained was the overwhelming need to find Seth, to see his face, and put her arms around him.

To finally tell him what was in her heart, and let love take care of the rest.

*   *   *

Love notwithstanding, Emma was a bundle of nerves when she knocked on Seth’s door. She had been ever since he’d picked up the phone when she’d called.

“Can I see you?” she’d asked. “It’s important. There’s a lot I need to say.” She didn’t want to do this on the phone, unable to see or touch him, and that was at least something he seemed to agree with.

“Can you come over?” he asked. “I’ve got something I need to show you. I can bring it there if you’d rather. . . .”

“No,” Emma said, thinking of the potential audience. “I think alone is better. I’ll be there soon.”

The soft buzz of his voice had been impossible to read, though he’d sounded eager enough to talk to her. Emma hung on to that, hoping that she hadn’t managed to break in a few days what she’d spent so long waiting for. That fear was banished, though, the instant he opened the door.

He was the best thing she’d ever seen, Emma thought, her chest tightening painfully and yet another wave of hated tears rising to sting her eyes, threatening to spill over without a single word. He had an ugly scab at his temple, the only visible reminder of his brush with death.
His hair was slightly mussed, and the eyes that met hers were full of both weariness and something more—an intensity she’d only glimpsed in him when they’d been wrapped around each other. His generous mouth didn’t curve into a smile as it usually did when he saw her. Instead, he simply spoke one word.

“Emma.”

She worried she might lose it right there on his doorstep. All she wanted was the reassurance of his touch, but the few feet between them could have been miles. Miles she’d created this time. Emma swallowed hard, brushing her hands nervously down her simple polka-dot sundress.

“Seth, I—” She hiccuped, and was mortified. “I’m sorry.”

He sighed, and to her amazement, he moved to close the space between them. “It’s okay,” he said, and then his strong arms were around her, wrapping her in their comfort. Then she did cry, promising herself that this would be the last time for a while, dampening his T-shirt while he stroked her hair, her back as he held her close. “It’s okay,” he said again, dropping a kiss on the top of her head when the storm had passed, and she simply stood resting her cheek against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart.

This,
she thought.
This is all I need right now.

His voice rumbled against her ear. “Come on in. I want to show you something.”

Emma lifted her head to look at him, but his expression betrayed nothing. Seth reached down to take her hand, then led her inside, shutting the door behind him. There was a large cardboard box sitting open beside the stairs, but the newspapers wadded up on top held no clue as to what had been inside it. Seth pulled her toward the couch, and when he sat down, she followed suit, curious. When
she was situated, he picked up a large book that was sitting on his coffee table. Emma hadn’t immediately noticed it, but when she did, it was recognizable enough.

“A photo album?” she asked. He nodded, the sharp lines of his face serious.

“I had Kira send me some things. You’ll meet her soon. She’s coming to visit next month. I mean, I’d like you to meet her. If you want to.”

The uncertainty that crept into his voice sliced through her. Emma nodded. “Of course I want to meet her.”

A faint, genuine smile. “Okay. Well . . . there was a lot in the box, but I managed a decent abbreviated version to start.” He looked at her. “Open it up.”

Slowly, Emma did, and found a page of pictures featuring a smiling young man and a woman holding two babies: one with a pink hat, the other wearing a blue one. His parents. His sister. Him. Emma looked up at Seth, beginning to suspect what he had done. The sweetness of it, and what it implied, humbled her.

“Your family?” she asked.

He nodded. “Keep going. Lots more mug shots where that came from.”