2. Emma
2
EMMA
“Harmony Creek - Population 2,347”
The familiar creak of the weathered wooden signpost sends a shiver down my spine as I drive past it.
The sun dips below the snow-capped peaks, casting the highway in a warm, orange glow that stretches as far as the eye can see. I squint, brushing my hair out of my eyes as the familiar scenery unfolds before me. The town is nestled in a deep valley, surrounded by mountain slopes that are a patchwork of snow and green forest. There’s a waterfall a few miles out, its water feeding into the creek that flows right through the heart of town. That’s probably where the town got its name, Harmony Creek.
I’ve missed this majestic view.
I take it all in, slowing down to enjoy the drive. I roll down my window, letting the crisp, fresh air fill the car. It smells like pine and earth. That smell is unmistakably home.
Driving through these familiar landscapes brings back memories. Dad used to load Damon and me into his old truck for afternoon drives. We’d spend hours exploring these roads, windows down, the wind tangling our hair.
I drive through the town. The same quaint shops line Main Street, their windows adorned with faded holiday decorations. Mrs. Henderson's bakery still wafts the intoxicating aroma of freshly baked bread, and the town square, with its creaky old bandstand, seems frozen in time.
Nothing seems to have changed much in the five years since I left. Nothing much seems to change in towns like these, except maybe the people.
The last time I was here, Damon was reeling from Dad’s death, trying to figure out his life after years spent in the Navy, and then there was Aurora, Damon’s band girl girlfriend who dropped the bomb of Ethan’s unexpected arrival. Damon married her, but Aurora left not long after Ethan was born. She couldn’t handle the quiet life in Harmony Creek, and Damon, being Damon, didn’t try to stop her. He’s been a single dad ever since, doing a damn good job of it, too…until now.
Now he’s with June. My best friend since forever. She and Damon have always had this weird chemistry, but the timing was never right for them. Now, it seems like fate has finally aligned. They’re getting married, and I’m back to help make sure it’s the wedding of their dreams.
And me? Life in the fast lane of New York City has etched lines around my eyes and replaced the carefree girl with a woman burdened by the weight of unspoken dreams. Coming back also means facing all the things I left behind. The memories, the people, the pain of losing Dad. It’s a lot to take in.
My phone rings, and I see June’s name flashing on the screen. I activate the hands-free and answer the call.
“Hey, June!”
“Emma! Where are you?”
“Just getting into town,” I reply, glancing at the scenery. “Should be there in a few minutes.”
“Great! I’ll come by later this evening. I’m out with Ethan right now,” June chatters, the excitement in her voice filling my ears.
“Sounds like you guys are having fun?”
“Of course. Ethan here. Want to speak to him?”
I know without doubt that Ethan and Damon are lucky to have June. She’s the perfect stepmother for my brother’s five-year-old son after not having one all his life. I wonder if Damon ever regrets his decision to date Aurora and marry her after she told him she was pregnant. It was around the time our dad died from heart disease. Damon had his own way of dealing with the grief, and I had mine. I left town, and now, five years later, I’m back.
“Hey, Ethan!” I call out, hoping he can hear me. “I can’t wait to see you!”
“Aunt Emma. June told me you’re coming home.”
We’ve only seen each other on our video calls, but Ethan and I have bonded easily even with just that. He’s quite a smart kid for a five-year-old, and he keeps his dad on his toes all the time.
“Yes, sweetheart. I can’t wait to see you.”
“See you soon, Aunt Emma!” Ethan’s excited voice brings a smile to my face.
“Okay, drive safe. Talk later.” June adds.
“Later guys.”
I can picture the smile on June’s face as we end the call. I wish I felt as happy as her. There’s a mix of excitement and fear churning in my stomach instead. While I can’t wait to plan June and Damon’s wedding because it’s what I love doing, coming back to Harmony Creek also brings up a lot of the past, and I’m not sure how ready I am to face it all again.
I end the call and start singing along to the song playing on the radio, trying to drown out my thoughts. The winding highway narrows as I approach the East Side of town, and I pass under the huge overhead sign board that reads Cole’s Avenue. I let out a sigh, asking myself what this homecoming has in store for me.
The familiar sting of pine needles against my windshield welcomes me on the path to the house. The gravel road crunches beneath my tires as the car rolls down the winding path I practically know by heart. Then, the trees open up, revealing a wide clearing dominated by a large, three-bay building. I pull up to the charming old Victorian house that Damon and I grew up in. The front yard is neatly kept, with flowers blooming along the path to the door. Damon must be working hard to keep it up.
There’s a custom garage by the side, and the large doors hang open, offering me a glimpse of the chaos inside. Tools hang haphazardly on pegboards, an unfinished muscle car gleams under the harsh fluorescent lights, and hunched over the engine bay is my brother.
The sound of my approaching car pulls his attention. He straightens up, wiping his grease-stained hands on a rag, and walks out to the open, shading his eyes with his right hand.
As soon as his gaze lands on me, a wide grin splits his face. I take a deep breath and get out of the car.
Damon hasn't changed much. Same mop of auburn hair, a little longer now and pulled back in a messy ponytail. Age has etched a few new lines around his eyes, and a dark beard has sprouted, effectively hiding the scar that snakes across his chin—a souvenir from his SEAL days.
“Em!” he booms in a rough voice filled with genuine warmth.
He jogs over, rubbing a towel over palms and forearms thick with muscle. Before I can blink, he's engulfing me in a suffocating bear hug. The scent of oil and leather fills my senses.
“Hey stranger!” I hug him back. “Good to see you.”
He chuckles, squeezing me tighter. “How was the trip? You okay? Still remember the way home easily?”
The rapid-fire questions are vintage Damon. He was such a constant figure in my life growing up. It’s funny how our roles were reversed six years ago when I was the one welcoming him home from his military service.
“Trip was fine, I’m good, and yes, I’ll never forget the way home,” I mumble, smiling at his enthusiasm.
As I pull away from Damon’s embrace, I notice a man standing in the garage shadows. He’s tall, with dark hair and a rugged, handsome face. My heart skips a beat.
“Who’s he?”
Damon finally releases me, his hand lingering on my shoulder for a beat too long before his gaze drifts past me. “Oh, right,” he says, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “That’s Liam Miller,” Damon motions for me to follow him. “Come on, I’ll introduce you.”
Liam Miller. I know he’s Damon’s friend from his military days and the son of Harmony Creek’s beloved Dr. Miller, but I’ve never met him in person. We only spoke on the phone once, five years ago.
Now he’s here as Damon’s best man, I guess.
We walk over, and Damon introduces us with a smile. “Liam, this is my sister, Emma. Emma, this is Liam, my buddy from the military.”
“Nice to meet you, Emma,” Liam nods, extending a hand.
As I take his hand, my heart races. There’s something in his eyes, a quick flicker that makes me uneasy. He has stormy-gray eyes that are mysterious, and right now, those eyes are glittering with swirling emotions that feel strangely familiar.
“Do I know you?” I realize too late that my voice is tinged with suspicion.
“No, I don’t think so,” Liam replies smoothly.
Damon looks between us, a hint of concern on his face. “Is there a problem?”
“No problem,” I murmur quickly. “Let’s go inside.”
As we walk into the house, I can’t take my eyes off Liam. There’s an irresistible beauty about his sharp cheekbones and chiseled jaw that could have been carved from marble, save for the careless stubble roughing up his olive skin. He’s freaking handsome—the kind of big, bad wolf handsome that can send knees knocking.
I’ve never met Liam, so why does he look so…familiar?
It’s his eyes. Those eyes could hold anyone captive. Stormy-gray pools that have once bewitched me.
No way. My breath hitches in my throat. It couldn't be. This had to be some kind of cruel cosmic joke.
I know who Liam Miller is.
I remember those same eyes burning into mine as he pulled my dress up my thighs, slid my panties to the side, and?—
Holy fuck. I suck in a quick breath, feeling my cheeks heat up and a throbbing start between my legs in remembrance of Liam Miller digging his cock into me, over and over, as I screamed in pleasure. All the memories of that whirlwind weekend fling in New York rush through my head.
God, it felt good. Until the same eyes held annoyance and disdain as he threw me out of his apartment like a cheap slut. Now, he’s standing in my home, offering a polite smile devoid of recognition.
Does he really not remember? For a moment, I consider ignoring it. Maybe it’s good that he doesn’t remember. But the anger simmering inside me refuses to be quelled.
As Damon pushes open the door and steps into the house, I quickly grab Liam’s hand to hold him back.
“Sure you don’t remember me?”
“No.” He shakes his head.
“Really?” My question is laced with a dangerous edge. “Because I could swear we've met before.”
He shrugs. “Maybe we bumped into each other at the grocery store or something. You know how it’s a small world, even in Manhattan.”
His words are like lighter fluid to the inferno brewing inside me. “No,” I grunt, my voice firm. “This isn't some grocery store encounter. We spent a whole weekend together.”
A flicker of something crosses Liam’s features. The bastard remembers.
Damon pokes his head back outside. “Is there a problem here?”
“None.” Liam mumbles and walks into the house.
I want to scream. So, he’s going to pretend? Act completely clueless? No, that won’t work. The thought of letting him get away with this elaborate act is infuriating. He might have been in his playboy element back in New York, but this is my town, my turf, and I’m going to make him regret this.
I follow my brother and his friend to the dining table, seething with anger. Damon brings out a plate of snacks that June made. Then he walks to the counter, promising us he’ll whip up a quick meal. His back is to us as he hums a tune, oblivious to the thick tension in the air. Liam sits across from me, his eyes firmly fixed on his plate, avoiding mine as much as he can. I curse him silently, fuming at his gall to pretend he doesn’t know me.
“So, Emma,” Damon breaks the silence, “how’s life in New York? How’s work going?”
“It’s good,” I reply, forcing a smile. “Work keeps me busy. I get to meet a lot of interesting people.” I cast a pointed glance at Liam. He doesn’t look up, but I can see he catches my drift from the way his jaw tightens.
“Interesting people, huh?” Damon chuckles.
I lean back in my chair, picking at a piece of cake. “Oh, you know, just the usual. Some people are real pieces of work.” I look directly at Liam. “You’d be surprised at the kind of people you meet.”
Liam’s eyes flick up to mine for a brief second before he looks away. I can see the irritation in his expression, and it fuels my resolve to push him further.
“So, Damon, how did you and Liam become friends?”
Damon turns around, a spatula in hand. “Oh, thought I told you. We go way back. Met in the Navy SEALs. We’ve been through a lot together. Right, Liam?”
“Yeah,” Liam mutters, his voice low. “A lot.”
I nod, leaning forward. “Must be nice, having a friend who’s a good person.” I smile sweetly at Liam. “Though I suppose everyone has their secrets.”
Liam finally looks up, his eyes narrowing. “You’re right. Everyone does have their secrets.”
I shrug, taking another bite of cake. “So, Liam, how big is the secret you’re hiding from Damon?”
His mouth flattens into a thin line. “I’m not sure what you’re getting at, Emma.”
“Oh, I think you do,” I reply, my voice dripping with sarcasm.
Damon looks between us, finally sensing the underlying tension. “Hey, come on now. Let’s not start a fight. We’re all here to have a good time. We can all keep our secrets.”
“Of course, Damon,” I murmur, my gaze never leaving Liam’s. “Just making conversation.”
Liam’s eyes flash with anger, but he keeps his cool. “So, Emma, what’s it like planning weddings in the city? Must be stressful.”
“It has its moments,” I reply casually. “But I love what I do. It’s all about making sure the couple gets exactly what they want.” I lean forward, my eyes boring into his. “Making sure everything goes perfectly.”
“I’m sure you’re great at it,” Liam says through gritted teeth.
“Thank you,” I say, my smile not reaching my eyes.
Damon turns back to the stove and starts plating the food. “Liam, can you help me get some wine? This calls for a couple of glasses because my best friend and sister are in town.”
“Sure,” Liam says, seeming grateful for the excuse to leave. He stands and heads toward the back of the house.
I wait a moment before standing as well. “I’ll help. Liam might not be able to find the cellar quickly enough.”
Damon looks puzzled but nods. “Alright, thanks, Emma.”
I follow Liam out of the dining room and down the hallway to the cellar. When I find him standing there, I don’t waste any time.
“Liam, you look very familiar. Are you sure we haven’t met before?”
His mouth sets in a hard line as he denies it. “I’m sure. I think I’d remember if we had.”
“Funny,” I walk up close to him. “That night was unforgettable.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Why are you lying about knowing me?” I demand. “And what the hell are you doing here?”
Liam turns to face me, his eyes hard. “I’m here because my best friend invited me. And I don’t recognize you.”
I scoff, stepping closer until he’s backed against the wall. “Don’t recognize me, huh?”
I grab his shirt collar and plant my mouth roughly on his. His lips feel as perfect as I remember—firm, smooth, almost making me lose my mind.
“I want that night again, Liam,” I mumble against his lips. Before he can respond, I push my tongue against him, and he lets me in with a sigh. I tease him, flicking my tongue around and biting his lower lip as my hand travels down his body until it rests on the front of his pants.
“What are you doing?”
I ignore him and squeeze his cock through his pants. He growls—the sound low and deep.
“Liam, that was the best night I ever had. I remember you fucking me on the bed, in the bathtub, and in the kitchen…I want it again.”
“What are you talking about?” He breathes heavily, his eyes wide as I push up to him. I remember everything about that night, the taste of his lips, the feel of the amazing part of him inside me.
“I want to fuck you right here, and we don’t even need a condom.”
“Wha—”
I squeeze him again. Pressing against him to mash my breasts into his shirt. I feel two things right now—unadulterated lust and anger, and I let the latter fuel the former.
“We didn’t use condoms that night, remember?”
“We did.”
“What did you say?” I pull back and look into his eyes. “Do you remember me now?”
There’s a flicker of regret in his eyes as he realizes he’s been caught.
“Fuck you for pretending.” I shake my head, grab a bottle of wine from the rack, and turn to leave. “You’re a jerk, Liam Miller,” I shout over my shoulder, my legs shaking as I walk away.