Freedom (36 page)

“Sean is taking him to his first checkpoint.” Cooper smiles as if he does this all the time. “I can’t tell you more than that, Emma. The less you know, the better.”

“How very clandestine of you,” Emma says to Cooper. “But, thank you for helping Robert.”

“Thank Dylan. It was his idea. He convinced me to call in favors, and he convinced Sean to help get Robert out of here with the necessary papers and such.”

She removes my hand from her shoulder and looks up at me with something between gratitude and bewilderment.

I shrug. “We had to help him get out of here so he could get his life back, a better life. Besides, the further away from you, the better.”

“Thank you.” She can barely get the words out without her eyes misting up.

Shit, I don’t want her to start crying over that guy again.

“Well, that’s enough for me,” Carson says, standing up. “I need to go home and try to forget this little nightmare.

“I’m so sorry I got you involved in this mess,” Emma says to him.

“Don’t be. I’m glad it’s straightened out, and it wasn’t the worst that could have happened. I’m just relieved no one got injured.” Carson kisses Emma on the cheek and pats her back. “I’ll see you very soon, and… I’m really sorry about your father.”

“Thank you.”

“You and Dylan will have to come up to the house for dinner in a few days. I know Jess would like that.”

Oh, fuck
. Why did he have to mention Jess? I know my brother means well and he doesn’t know about my argument with Emma over Jess. Carson is always so clueless about these things. He lives in his own little, happy bubble. I can’t blame him, but Jesus, now he has Emma thinking about Jess again.

“I have to get going, too,” Cooper says. “There’s this snarky brunette I love having wait on me at the diner. I’m going to have to convince her that she likes me.”

“Imogene?” Emma asks, surprised.

Cooper chuckles and then pulls Emma’s switchblade out of his jeans and places it on the table. He slides it towards her with a smirk.

“Wait,” I say to Cooper. I hold out my hand to him. “Thanks. Thank you for everything,” I say as Cooper slams his palm into mine for one strong handshake.

Then Carson and Cooper leave together. When I hear the front door close, I pull Emma out of her chair and gather her in my arms.

“It’s done,” I say. “No more looking over your shoulder. Do you understand that?”

She nods against my chest.

***

Emma spends most of the day sitting on the couch and staring out the front window. I don’t know if she is daydreaming about her past with Robert, agonizing about his future, wondering about her father, or thinking about us. All that bravado I put on for everyone earlier in the day is gone. Despite telling Dr. Wang that I would open up to Emma more, I am afraid to ask her what she’s really thinking about.

I lift weights while she observes me through several sets with a cautious interest. She still has that distant expression of someone who has been thinking long and hard. This woman has had way too many things to reflect on. I’m still upset over her near-rape incident, although it explains a lot about her defensive nature and inclination to respond with physical force when she’s scared. I do know more about her, and I don’t think I could ever get tired of learning about Emma Keller.

“Lauren says this place is a dump,” she says suddenly.

I put the barbell down and turn to see her smiling at me.

“It is. Well, not the structure, but I’m aware that the furnishings downstairs are atrocious.”

“She was awfully offended and said she’s going to have a word with Leo and you.”

Emma stretches out her long, bare legs on the couch. I want to thank the creator of those short shorts that reveal the lace rim of her underwear and the bottom of her butt cheeks. I can’t let her leave the house in them again, though. She gave Cooper an eyeful and that guy is on the prowl. Of course, he’s also handed back her switchblade, so I don’t think I have to worry about her being able to take care of herself if any guy crosses her.

“You’re not blinking,” she states. “What are you staring at?”

“Your legs. You. You’re beautiful.” I sit up on the weight bench and catch a whiff of myself. “Christ, I smell like a barn.”

“Worse.”

“Yeah, I need to go take a shower.” I pause and study her innocent yet sultry pose. “Do you hate this place? It’s not really very nice.”

“I like living here, Dylan. My room is beautiful.
Our room
,” she adds.

***

When she turns in before nine, I don’t bother to ask or question where I belong. After a long, hot shower, I skip shaving and put on some freshly laundered sweats and join her in our bedroom. I move to the center of the bed and she curls herself into me. I know what I would like to do, but I intend to let her rest and not make any moves on her. At least, I think I am trying to be thoughtful and considerate of her emotional state, however all my good intentions tend to go out the window whenever she responds with her own sexual advances.

“So this is our bedroom,” I say, waiting for confirmation.

“Yes, this is the nicest one.”

“I guess Leo can turn my bedroom into the guest room. Anyway, I think he may be moving in with Lauren permanently, so maybe I should buy this place and finish fixing it up. What do you think?” I am fishing because I want to hear her say those three little words when, ironically, I haven’t said them directly to her.

She runs her feather light touch across the stubble on my chin and I bury my hands in her soft, long hair. Her belly pushes against my erection, so I pull back.

“I think you could do amazing things with this house.”

“I’m going to say this so we’re clear, and you’re not obligated to say anything.” I cup her face.

“I love how you build up so much drama to everything,” she responds and her lips touch mine.

“I love you. That’s all I wanted to say.”

“That’s
all
.” She laughs and kisses me again. “That is a big deal… Make love to me, Dylan.”

Damn. My cock heard her, and now it’s happening.

“Sleepy Hollow was lovely, but that tree did a number on my back. I just want you to make love to me in this bed.”

“You don’t have to ask twice,” I say, moving gently on top of her. “I’m on it.”

It is the first night we are truly alone. No mysterious prepaid phones ringing, no ex-boyfriends making unexpected visits, no cryptic calls or appearances from her father or men from her former life, and no revelations from well-meaning friends who light the fuse for more misunderstandings.

We have each other in the only place that feels like home for both of us. So much for good intentions. I make love to her for hours, exploring every part of her like she is new to me all over again while she whispers sweet, tender declarations… “
I love your arms, I love your shoulders, I love your eyes, I love Freedom,”
she kisses the small tattoo on my wrist, and she even shouts, “
I love your body”
during a climax, but not the words I am waiting for. It’s all right. Through therapy, patience is one of the things I have acquired in small measures. Well, unless an ex-boyfriend is anywhere in the vicinity, then I lose it like a rabid dog. I’m working on that.

Thirty

Emma

Another day of waking up in an empty bed, and another day of realizing how much I dislike not having Dylan’s large body next to me in the morning. Thinking of Dylan makes me hurt with need; the wanting grows with each day, and I decide that this is how love should be.

I shower and put on jeans and a flower print blouse that makes me feel pretty. I am so tired from Dylan’s insatiable, sexual appetite that the extra sleep does nothing to hide my fatigue.
But this is a good kind of exhaustion
, I remind myself.

When I stumble downstairs, the kitchen has a fresh pot of coffee and pancakes on the stove. I pour syrup on Dylan’s homemade flapjacks and eat the food right off the griddle. My guy is an unbelievable cook.

The sound of a large truck rumbling in front of the house makes me put my coffee down to go inspect. I open the door and stand barefoot on the porch, watching Dylan jump out of the Blackard Designs delivery truck before he walks around back to open the doors and pulls the ramp out. When Carson’s truck pulls up alongside the delivery vehicle, I see Jess in the passenger seat. They get out and have a short discussion with Dylan. Then Carson and Dylan disappear into the truck. While they carry a large dining table and make their way towards the house, Jess scolds them for not wrapping everything in plastic to protect the wood. As Dylan comes up the porch steps first, grinning at me, his exuberance is contagious.

“Hi,” he says, and I feel a little fluttery and excited.

“Hi.” I stare right at him, blushing as I think of what we did all night.

“I brought a few things for the house.” He disappears inside the house with Carson and the heavy furniture. “But I don’t want you to see it until I have it set up,” he shouts from the living room.

I stay on the porch and Jess joins me. I can’t help but size her up and compare myself to her. She’s pretty, she’s a genius with job skills I could never master, she’s creative and talented enough to sell her paintings, and she grew up in a more sophisticated culture than me. And she’s slept with Dylan. Yes, that makes me ill to think about.

“Can we talk?” She looks extremely uncomfortable asking me that.

“That doesn’t sound good,” I say.

She laughs to break the tension. “No, it never sounds good to start a conversation like that.”

“I have an idea what it’s about.”

She nervously brushes her voluminous red hair off her face and looks at the ground. It’s then that I realize she has her own social awkwardness.

“Lauren and Dylan both told me about you not knowing… can we step over here so we can talk privately?”

Oh, this is going to be painful if she’s afraid to talk to me. She’s already stumbling through each sentence.

I follow her to the end of the porch so the guys can make the back and forth trips to the truck and house without hearing us.

“We don’t know each other very well, and I’m probably not the person you’d like to see, but I think I should say something.”

“Shoot.” I am hoping she can spit it out; she looks frazzled.

“A year ago, Dylan was very different. He was very sick, and I didn’t understand that, and I was too stupid to listen to everyone who knew better.”

“I already know that. Lauren told me about his illness and the accident,” I add.

“I know they told you about him being bipolar. I want to tell you that he did not love me. We were never in love, but two good things came out of that bad year. I fell in love with Carson and Dylan got help. Dylan is getting better every day. He’s not perfect—none of us are—but he’s remarkably different, and this is the first time I’ve ever seen the
real
Dylan.”

“Okay.” I seriously don’t know what to say to her. Should I thank her for trying to put me at ease even though I don’t feel any different? Should I be polite because she’s my boss’s wife?

“What I’m trying to say is that Dylan is very happy and I wish you could see him through everyone else’s eyes, especially Carson’s since he’s known Dylan the longest. Dylan is a strong person and so caring, and… and he’s just so good. And he’s in love with you. He’s fighting for you. You’re smart and probably know this already, but I think it’s good to hear it out loud. I don’t want you to think his feelings have anything to do with what happened with me, or that he’s trying to prove himself to Carson. It’s all about you. Dylan is all about you. In a good way, not his obsessive, bipolar way.”

I snort a nervous laugh at that last comment.

Jess smiles and looks more confident about what she’s saying. “I thought you should know that.”

“Thank you.”

“Dylan once told me that as Carson’s brother he was obligated to tell me how great Carson is and that I should… you know… love Carson. I’m Dylan’s sister-in-law, so I’m obligated to tell you how great Dylan is.”

Her kindness coaxes a small smile from me. “How did you know you were in love with Carson?”

“Ah, well, whenever he was near me, I had the proverbial butterflies in my stomach, and I wanted to vomit. I mean, my insides were in terrible knots and I really wanted to barf. A lot.”

I laugh.

“I didn’t really know anything about being in love until Carson. I think, when you’re with the person you’re meant to be with, you do everything possible to be the best part of yourself, and you bring out the best in each other. I see that in Dylan. He’s a better person with you.”

“That’s very thoughtful of you to say. Thank you.”

Jess smiles uncomfortably. “Well, sometimes I talk too much. Let me try to sum this up… I was not Dylan’s first love. You are. And you can be his one and only if that’s what you want.”

“We’re done,” Dylan shouts from the living room. “Come on in!”

Jess smiles at me. “He’s not making this house pretty for Leo, and everything he did for Robert was because Dylan loves you. You realize that, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Good. Now, let’s go see your beautiful new furniture.”

Thirty-One

Dylan

While I set our new dining table for lunch and put out some sandwiches, Emma wanders around the living room trying out the new leather couch, the lamps, the chairs and end tables. She opens and closes all the doors on the entertainment system that hides the large flat screen TV. Then she tries out the drawers and shelves in the buffet cabinet in the dining room.

“Are you going to sit down and eat?” I ask, amused.

“Did you steal all this furniture from the showroom?”

“No, I paid cost for everything. Some of it, like the lamps and accessories, were on loan from Mercer’s store, but I paid for those, too.”

“It must have cost a small fortune. Remember, I work there, and I had Carson raise the prices on everything?”

“I know, and he said you’ve brought in a nice bundle of revenues, so we’ll be getting bigger commission checks. But I paid for this. It’s a gift for you.”