Chapter Thirty-Three
EMERY
THE SIRENS FADE long before my panic does.
Reid’s truck rocks as people run by outside, frantic.
One person shouts a name I don’t recognize; another is yelling for water.
A dog barks incessantly in the distance.
All the while, I clutch my phone, my knuckles white and my fingers hovering over Reid’s name.
He told me to stay in the truck, but it’s been over thirty minutes since he ran toward the marina and every minute feels like an hour.
Through the windshield, I can see the fire’s reflection off the water in the night sky.
And even inside the truck, I can smell it—salt, gasoline, and something sharp, like burning rubber or plastic.
I turn on the truck enough to roll the window down but all I can hear is the distant hum of chaos.
Most of the crowd is gone, but I hear far away shouts from emergency responders.
The celebration is over and now Tidehaven feels…hollow. I decide I’d rather have the silence and roll the window back up.
A moment later, a knock on the window startles me.
“Emery!” Kayla shouts from outside. “Are you okay?”
I unlock the door and fling it open. “Oh my God, where were you?” I pull her into a hug.
“At the research center. I was there when the explosion happened. I heard the blast and ran outside and saw the smoke. It’s bad, Em.” She pulls back, shaking her head, her breaths coming fast. “The marina.”
I glance toward the marina, the orange glow brighter now. My eyes blur with tears. “Reid’s down there.”
Kayla grabs my hand and squeezes. “He’ll be fine. He always is.”
I nod, swallowing the lump in my throat.
“I have to go home. My mom is probably worried sick. Are you going to be okay?” Kayla’s brow furrows.
“I’ll be fine.” I give her another swift hug and climb back in the truck.
Ten minutes later, Reid’s sliding into the driver’s seat, his hair damp with sweat, the smell of smoke permeating the space. I almost sob in relief.
“Hey,” he rasps, brushing my cheek. “You okay?”
I nod, but it’s a lie. My throat burns and I can’t stop shaking. “You smell awful.”
“Yeah.” He nods sadly. “Half the marina’s gone. Colt and Tate are still there, but the fire’s contained.”
“What happened?”
“Might’ve been a fuel leak. Maybe not. It’s a little early to know.” His voice is tight, like there’s something he’s not saying.
I study him, the glow of the streetlamp catching in his eyes. He looks exhausted. Haunted.
“I was so scared,” I murmur.
He pulls me to him then, his hand drawing light circles on the back of my neck.
“Me too,” he whispers. He dips his forehead to mine. “I shouldn’t have left you here. I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay.” I sniffle. “You’re here now.”
I curl into him, breathing in his scent of sea air, smoke, and sweat. His hand slides up my back, grounding me, and soon our breaths sync together.
“Take me home,” I whisper.
“There’s nothing else I’d rather do.” He starts the truck and backs out slowly, careful to avoid any lingering onlookers.
The drive home is quiet except for the rumble of the truck and the sporadic crackle of Reid’s radio with updates from Colt. The smell of smoke clings to everything, filling the cab until it’s all I can breathe in.
He pulls in his dirt drive and kills the engine. For a moment, neither of us moves, we only stare at each other. The world outside is chaos but in here, everything narrows to this moment—his eyes on mine, our mingled breaths, all the words we want to say out loud but haven’t yet.
Reid sucks in a breath before finally saying, “Let’s go in and get cleaned up.”
Inside, we kick off our shoes and Reid moves down the hall to the bathroom.
I peel off my tank top when I hear the shower turn on and he meets me in the hallway.
He’s shirtless and barefoot, soot streaked across his jaw that I hadn’t seen until now.
His shoulders are taut with tension, but he pulls me to him anyway, his hands finding the button on my denim shorts.
He undoes it and the shorts slip to the floor.
I step out of them and follow him down the hall.
Steam fills the bathroom as the shower warms and Reid slowly takes off the rest of our clothes.
He pulls open the glass door, and I step under first, the hot water stinging my skin, washing the day away.
His arms encircle me from behind, pulling me to him.
The water runs over us, but neither of us speaks.
Reid’s hands skim down my arms, to my waist, slow and reverent.
Every touch sends a spark of electricity straight between my thighs.
His lips find my neck, and I feel him harden from behind.
A soft gasp escapes me as Reid’s fingers dig into my hip bones, backing my ass into his length.
Then he drags an index finger up my center, letting out a grunt when he finds the swollen nub that sends a wave of pleasure through my insides.
I tip my head back, and his mouth finds mine in a kiss that’s deep and aching and real.
I whirl around to look at him, searching his face for something but I don’t know what. My hand drifts across his chest, finding the raised pink scar that begins under his collarbone and moves down toward his ribs.
“How did you get this?” I whisper, tracing the scar with my fingertip.
Reid exhales hard, pulling me closer so our bodies are flushed together, but his eyes stay focused on me.
He looks as if he’s having an internal struggle, and for a moment, I think he won’t answer.
Then, quietly, his voice husky, he says, “Afghanistan. We were sent to clear a building. Intel told us there were no hostiles… I had a bad feeling about it, but I listened to them instead of my gut. They were wrong.”
He pulls back, letting the water run into his eyes.
I think he might be done talking but then he steps closer again.
“We walked right into an ambush. The first two shots hit my CO. The third one hit me.” His hand finds the scar.
“It went under my vest, caught a rib, and got stuck. I remember the pop sound before the pain—before everything went black. I needed emergency surgery.”
“Reid…” My heart pounds heavy in my chest.
“I dragged my CO out, but I have no idea how. No recollection of it. I was released with honorable discharge. Got a Purple Heart too.” He shakes his head.
“I remember being air lifted to safety thinking this is it—I’m not making it out alive.
” He lets out a long slow breath, his hand tracing over the scar.
“But you did make it out.” I press my hand to his.
“I was the only one.” He looks away. “Sometimes I wish I didn’t. You don’t survive something like that and come out okay. It haunts you forever. You’re breathing but you aren’t really living.”
“And now? Do you still feel that way?” I hold my breath, afraid to hear the answer.
He looks down at me, his green eyes dark and searching.
“When you showed up…all the noise in my head, the guilt, the anger—it quieted.” He steps closer to me again, pushing me up against the wall and when his lips find mine, the kiss is deep and tender—filled with yearning and hope.
He pulls back, his thumb tracing my jaw.
“You made me feel like there is something worth living for again. You make me want more.”
I don’t even realize I’m crying until he kisses the tears from my face, his lips soft and unhurried.
I stand on my toes, cupping his face and kissing him again, slow and deep.
He responds with a hunger that feels like a release.
He pulls my hips toward his, his hardness pressing into me again.
Reid’s hands slide down my back, anchoring me to him.
My fingers trace the lines of muscle and scar tissue, the map of where he’s been and how far he’s come. Every touch feels like a promise.
His hand dips back between my thighs and he slips in a finger—one, then two. When a third slips in, I let out a low groan.
His name falls from my lips in a desperate plea.
“I know, baby, it feels so good. You’re so wet for me.” His voice is rough in my ear, and I know he’s trying to numb himself to the pain of the night and the memories we’ve stirred up.
Reid stops kissing me for the briefest of moments, brushing water out of my eyes. He watches my face as his fingers explore my body. The look on his face is filled with such tenderness that words get caught in my throat.
“Thank you for telling me that,” I murmur, the words I really want to say on the tip of my tongue.
He responds with another kiss, deep and urgent. I pull back, stroking his cheek.
“Reid,” I say softly.
“Yeah?” he murmurs through kisses.
“I love you.”
He stills, water streaming down his face, and his eyes find mine. “Say it again.”
“I love you, Reid.”
A small, broken sound escapes him—a sigh of relief—and then he’s kissing me again, as if those words are the only thing keeping him upright.
Reid’s hands find my ass and he picks me up, guiding himself to my entrance. “Is this okay?”
A breathless agreement and a nod from me, and he slips in easily. I let out a whimper at the feel of him. We move together like two people trying to memorize the shape of the other. His movements are slow and purposeful, and each thrust sends a shudder through me.
“You’re so beautiful, Emery,” Reid says, slowing his movements. “I don’t deserve you.”
He shifts ever so slightly, allowing himself to thrust deeper.
A moan that sounds borderline inhuman escapes me.
How can this man know my body so well after only a few weeks?
He holds me up with one hand, finding my clit with his other, circling it with gentle pressure until my legs tremble and my walls go tight.
“Reid,” I whisper. “I’m going to…”
“Come, baby. Come for me.” His voice is thick with emotion as he plows into me.
I cry out as my release finds me, my legs quivering around his waist. He plows into me, each thrust harder than the last as he searches for his own release. When he finds it, my name falls from his lips. He sets me down, burying his face in my neck.
“I love you, too, baby,” he murmurs. “More than I ever thought possible.”
We stay wrapped in each other, beneath the cooling spray, my head against his chest, his hands tracing lines up my back. Our hearts pound in sync with one another. Outside, the world is chaos, but in here, it’s only us. Warm, steady, alive.