14. Ember
EMBER
WHAT I NEED – HIGH JUNE
Impatience forms an electrified cattle prod, jabbing into my soft tissue as I watch the doctor talk to Tom through the pane of glass in his door. He’s disorientated, still confined to the hospital bed, his heavy eyes forming slits that seem reluctant to open at all.
I doubt he even knows where he is after being sedated while the antibiotics did their work. As much as I want to race in there and throw my arms around him, I’m holding back until the doctor’s done his job.
But Tom’s awake. Safe. Alive.
That’s a small fuck you to Gael and his men.
The off-beat thud of approaching footsteps warns me that Warner is near. His gait is entirely unique. I avoided his gaze when I arrived with Axel, leaving them in the ICU’s waiting area.
“Ember?”
Turning to face him, I reluctantly move away from Tom’s hospital room to meet Warner in the middle of the long corridor. He tentatively scans over me, blue gaze brimming with a confusing blend of concern and reluctance.
“Hi.”
“Hey,” he returns.
An awkward silence pulses between us.
“They let you in yet?”
“No.” I shake my head, teeth gritted tight. “Could be a while.”
“I see.”
His clipped tone causes the hair on my arms to spike. God, I fucking hate it when he talks to me like I’m a client. Still I bite my tongue and study his stoic mask, lined with exhausted grooves beneath a crop of mussed, silver-flecked hair.
Even his form-fitting black t-shirt and cargos are rumpled, body weight visibly lurching to one side as he leans on his good left leg. My heart wrings, aching with the need to inch closer.
“I have someone for you to meet in the waiting area.”
“Who is it?” Confusion causes my brows to dip.
“Jamie. Tom’s boyfriend.”
“Oh, crap!”
I’m officially the worst person ever for not even considering him in all this chaos. Warner must read the panic on my expression, his features softening with understanding.
“It’s okay. I’ve been keeping him up to speed for the past couple of weeks. We’ve met a few times over the years. He wasn’t kept in the dark.”
“You did that for me?”
“Tom isn’t just your responsibility,” Warner deflects like it’s nothing. “I took care of it.”
Appreciation warms my cold shell. “Thanks.”
“Don’t mention it.”
“I can’t believe I forgot him.” I cringe at my own selfishness.
“You’ve had a lot on your mind,” he empathises. “Don’t beat yourself up about it.”
“Too much to make a quick phone call?”
“Relax, Em. He’s fine.”
Scrubbing a hand down my face, I wince when I hit one of the yellowing bruises. Warner watches me warily, his hand outstretched like he wants to touch me but can’t find the bravery to do it.
“You always think of everything.”
He rolls his lips, seemingly weighing a response. “I told you that you don’t have to do this alone.”
“I’m starting to understand that.”
“This is what teams do. We support each other. Share the load. We keep each other afloat when the world comes crashing down around us.”
“Do teams attack each other too?”
As soon as the question slips out, I internally curse myself. Wrong time, wrong place. But I hate this weird tension between us, the physical distance that feels like a whole fucking country.
Warner sighs, the sad sound laden with bone-deep fatigue. “Jamie can wait. Let’s talk somewhere more private, Tom doesn’t need to hear this.”
“Probably for the best.”
I gingerly take the arm he extends to guide me into a vacant examination room, flipping the door sign to ‘occupied’ on his way past. When he closes us in, the balloon in my chest threatens to rupture.
“You’ve been avoiding me.”
“I have.” He glances around the white room. “I needed some time to think.”
My lips seal shut as I lean against the wall. “Is that all?”
“Yes.”
“Just admit that you didn’t want to see me.”
“That’s not true.” Warner folds his arms, biceps bulging against his cotton tee. “I need space sometimes too.”
“From me?”
“Maybe. Yes.”
More pain lances across my chest, causing the backs of my eyes to burn. I stare down at the floor until the sensation passes. His silence feels deafening in the small space we share, temporarily tucked away from the world.
“Em…”
“I was worried about you.” My voice comes out croaky, borderline ashamed. “That’s all.”
“Look, I regret what happened with Madden.” His taut posture reveals the reluctance of his confession. “But seeing his hands on you was more than I could handle. You need to understand how I feel.”
“I’m trying to, but you’re not making it any easier. You don’t open up. You run away and hide when things get tough. You beat the shit out of Blaine rather than taking a moment to actually think.”
Warner’s stubbled face cringes like he’s tasted something unpleasant.
“What did you expect me to do? Shake his hand?”
“How about behave like an adult?” I suggest.
“I’m the only one acting like an adult by considering the consequences of my actions. I’d recommend trying it.”
“What consideration?” I laugh in his face. “You broke his nose!”
His head throws back so he can stare at the ceiling. “That asshole had his hands where they don’t belong. He’s lucky I didn’t hack them off along with his wandering tongue.”
“Jesus. You know what? Forget it.”
Pushing off from the wall, I move to escape the small room. What I don’t expect is for Warner to barge in front of me, literally blocking the exit.
“Move!”
“No.” He braces his hands in the doorframe. “I want to talk to you.”
“I’m done talking about this.”
“How I reacted was wrong, but I’m not going to apologise for how I feel. He had no right.”
“That isn’t your decision to make! You don’t control me.”
Anger churns in his baby blues, roiling like the open ocean. “Is that what you think I’m doing?”
“That or throwing your toys out of the pram. You assaulted him, Warner! You told him to leave, and no one has seen him since!”
The vein in his forehead throbs. “He deserved more than a broken nose.”
“Do you hear yourself?” I hiss furiously.
“Do you understand how I feel about you?” he fires back.
“No! Fucking enlighten me!”
“Fine!” Warner thunders. “Let’s put all our cards on the table.”
Releasing the doorframe, he marches right up into my face. We end up nose-to-nose, almost touching, our breath exchanging in an angry debate as his stare sears me down to the bare bone.
When he clasps my chin between his thumb and forefinger, I don’t have to resist the urge to flinch away. I’m trapped. Enraptured. Held hostage by a force far greater than I can resist. He holds me prisoner in the heavy weight of his passionate glare.
“You want the real, honest to God truth?” Warner appeals.
He’s so loud, I’m surprised nobody has come in yet.
“Yes!”
“Ember, I have loved you since we were children.” He lashes the words like an invisible whip. “I grew up watching you become a gorgeous, strong, selfless woman who took on the world each bloody day without a word of complaint.”
My tongue glues to the roof of my mouth, all moisture vaporising.
“Even in the years I spent fighting overseas, I thought of nothing but when I’d see you again. I dreamt of you at night. I hoped and prayed that you were happy. I fantasised about a life where I could come home and finally call you mine.”
His forehead teases mine, mouth a mere brush from my open lips. My rioting heart rate seems to beg for him to close that minuscule gap and end this torture.
“No matter how many times I told myself that it’s wrong to want the girl I grew up with, my best friend’s baby sister, and that I’d lose him by loving you… it changed absolutely nothing. I don’t care anymore.”
“Why?” I summon the courage to ask.
“Because I have loved you for two agonising fucking decades,” he whispers breathlessly. “And I’ll love you for the rest of my life and further still. You’re the beginning and the end for me.”
Realisation is a seismic force that levels my anger in the blink of an eye. It isn’t indignation churning in his vivid irises. No, I was wrong. Warner looks at me with bottomless adoration.
It’s the same way he’s looked at me since I was young and stupid. The same way he’s always looked at me. Even when I refused to look back. It’s plain as day as he struggles to catch his breath now that the truth is out there.
“Say it again.” I grip the fabric of his shirt, wanting to pull his lips to mine.
“I love you,” he repeats.
My tongue darts out to wet my lips. “You love me.”
“Yes.”
“All this time?”
“Yes,” Warner affirms.
“You’re really in love with me.”
“How many other ways are there to say it?” His mouth twitches.
“But all this time… you… you said this was wrong. That we could never be together. You held back.”
“That doesn’t change the truth, nor does it stop me from wanting you now. After everything that’s happened, I’m ready for us to take a bit of happiness for ourselves. No matter the consequences.”
Inevitably, doubt resurfaces faster than I can revel in my victory.
“What about Tom?”
He sighs heavily through his nostrils. “No matter the consequences, Em. I’m not losing you. I don’t know how yet, but I’ll make this work.”
Shock churns through me, our chests brushing together when I waver on my feet. Warner’s pine and patchouli scent is hardwired into my dopamine receptors, and I can’t stop myself from pressing into his hard chest.
He loves me.
After all this time… I have the truth.
Warner fucking loves me.
His thumb smooths over my bruises, eyes bouncing from side-to-side as he weighs my reaction. Hope and terror form a perplexing concoction in his heated stare, undoubtedly mirroring my own confusion.
“I’m falling for you,” I admit hoarsely. “I have been for a while now. You’re not the boy I grew up with anymore, and I don’t want us to go back to just being just friends.”
He rests one hand on my hip while the other cups my jawline, holding me in a loose grasp. Each brush of his hardened fingertips sends electric zaps into my out-of-control heart.
“What do you want?” he murmurs.
My throat thickens. “To belong.”