Chapter 15
CHAPTER
FIFTEEN
ASPEN
I’m dripping wet and wrapped in a towel when a knock sounds at my front door.
My heart gives an annoyingly hopeful little kick before my brain can catch up.
And that?
That’s becoming a problem.
It was easier when Emmett Slate was just my patient. Easier when he was all gruff edges, clipped answers, and walls high enough to keep everyone out.
Then he started letting me see what’s underneath all of that.
And now he’s living twenty feet from my front door.
One thing I definitely didn’t factor in? How often he’d catch me without pants on.
I mean . . . it’s only happened twice.
But that’s still one hundred percent of the times Emmett Slate has shown up at my door, which feels statistically concerning.
I look at my towel-clad body and then at the watch on my vanity.
Shit.
He probably needs his dressing changed, and I have to leave for the hospital soon. Time is not on my side. Neither is the image of him trying to change it himself. Or the fact that the thought of him in more pain makes something in my chest squeeze tight.
Mind made up, I yank on my robe, cinch the belt, and hurry through the house before skidding to a stop at the front door. I catch myself with a palm on the cool metal, flipping the dead bolt.
He’s just turning to leave I whip the door open.
Resting my arm against the frame like I didn’t just sprint through my house half naked, I say, “Hey. What’s up?”
The casual tone I was going for comes out low and husky instead. And not sexy husky. Too much spit in my mouth husky.
Emmett palms the back of his neck, working at the tight muscles there while his gaze skims everywhere except me.
“I hate to ask . . .” His jaw shifts like the words taste wrong. “But can I use your shower?”
Those blue eyes finally find mine.
“Something’s up with the one in the loft. It’s been fine, but today the flow is practically nonexistent.” On an exhale he adds, “And I’ve got my first follow-up today.”
My pulse stutters.
He came to me.
“Yeah.” I clear my throat. “Of course.”
The last two days have felt like an unspoken truce.
We’ve given each other space that neither of us asked for.
After Emmett looked me in the eye and told me no one outside of his crew had cooked for him in fourteen years . . . I cried in my shower for the boy he used to be and the man he had to be to survive—a person who expects nothing from anyone.
Without him asking, I knew he needed a minute. And me . . . I’m terrified. Every time he shares something, big or small, I care a little more.
I hold the door open, but his feet stay rooted to the porch, his knuckles rubbing along the rough stubble on his jaw.
“And would I be able to get a ride?” Emmett asks, ducking his head like he’s almost embarrassed to ask.
“Consider it done.”
I step back, leaving the door wide.
“I need to leave in an hour. Will you be ready?”
Glancing over my shoulder, I find him following me inside.
“Yeah.” His laugh comes out darker than I like. “Not like I’ve got a lot going on.”
My stomach twists.
Giving him space the last two days suddenly feels a lot like punishment.
“How are you getting back?” I ask, pausing in the living room.
He’s not cleared to drive yet, or I’d have him drop me off and take my car.
“It’s not far.” He shrugs. “I can walk.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose.
“Clearly you’re in great shape—I mean . . .” I wave a hand vaguely in his direction. “Have you seen yourself?”
The second the words leave my mouth, I want to shove them right back in.
Emmett’s mouth kicks up on one side, his blue eyes darkening with entirely too much satisfaction.
Damn him.
Heat crawls up my neck as I fold my arms and force myself to keep going, ignoring the slip.
“But your ribs are still keeping your lungs from fully expanding.” I point at his chest like I’m giving discharge instructions instead of digging myself deeper. “You’d be winded, in pain, and probably halfway to passing out before the end of the block.”
The asshole leans against the back of my couch and full-on smirks.
I throw my hands up.
“Out of all that you heard the compliment.”
“Careful, Angel.”
I can feel my skin prickle everywhere his gaze touches as it sweeps over me, suddenly reminding me that I’m in my robe.
“Keep talking like that and I’ll think you like what you see.”
“Impossible,” I mumble under my breath. “You’re not walking.”
“I could hang around for your break.” His gaze drops to the coffee table where my book still sits, untouched.
“Maybe I can borrow that book that you don’t seem to be reading.”
My mouth twitches.
“You gonna tell me what happens when the stalker gets the girl?”
One thick brow lifts, and satisfaction blooms in my chest when genuine surprise flashes across his face.
“It will be hours before my break. Atlas doesn’t open the vet clinic until later today. Maybe he can come grab you?”
“Aspen.”
The warning in his voice only makes me smile.
“Emmett,” I repeat, in the same tired tone. “It’s just a ride—Altas won’t mind, just I like I don’t mind you using my shower.” When he only frowns, I start moving past him, patting his chest and adding, “No one’s asking you to marry them and plant your roots here.”
His silence follows me halfway down the hall.
I stop in the doorway to my bedroom and look back one last time.
“I’m texting Atlas. If you get hurt again, you’ll be back at square one.”
Emmett’s lips flatten into a line, like he’s holding back an argument.
Good.
I don’t give him time to find one, ducking into the safety of my room and grabbing the clothes and toiletries I need before my attention snags on my unmade bed and yesterday’s workout clothes hanging half out of the hamper.
What seemed like good enough yesterday feels like a hot mess today.
Jesus.
I make a frantic lap through the room, throwing my sheets over the bed and shoving things into the hamper properly. When I think I’ve got it nearly presentable, I remember the toy I left charging on the bathroom counter.
Faster than I’ve ever moved, I’m in the bathroom, ripping the charger from the wall and tossing my battery-operated friend into the top drawer, before slamming it shut with two hands.
Now is not the time to dwell on what inspired me to charge the toy in the first place.
Shit.
That was entirely too close.
When I step back into the hallway, Emmett is leaning against the wall, waiting, with his arms crossed over his chest. He’s wearing the same, unreadable, couldn’t-give-a-fuck expression that he hides behind.
But the second our eyes meet, he softens.
He’s not nearly the asshole he pretends to be.
And I’m not nearly as unaffected as I pretend to be.
“All yours.” My eyes sweep over him, pausing when I see the toothbrush and deodorant sticking out of the pocket of his basketball shorts. It’s so very Emmett. When the man says he lives simply, he’s not joking.
For a second, my mind wanders to the collection of products in the Doctor’s bathroom. It was vast enough to rival my own.
Emmett would never.
There’s a clunky dance when we try to switch places in the tight space and we bump into each other, making him wince.
“Oh shit. I’m so sorry.” My hand rests on his chest as I steady myself. Our feet are practically tangled. “You zigged when I thought you were going to zag. Are your ribs okay?”
“I’m fine.”
The sharp breath he sucked in gives him away. Besides, I’ve seen his X-rays. I roll my eyes.
“It barely hurt. And you apologize too much.”
I’m well aware of my penchant for apologizing. My brothers like to point out this flaw, but twenty-some years is a long time to carry a habit. “Is being polite suddenly a crime?”
“Are you apologizing because it makes other people comfortable?” His voice drops lower. “Or because you did something that actually warrants it?”
His eyes dips to where my palm still rests on his chest before finding mine again.
God. Damn. It.
Heat floods my cheeks that I lift my hand to touch them.
“I’ll . . .” I step back, bumping into the wall. “I’ll let you shower.”
The urge to flee from my own house is overwhelming.
“Just holler if you need a hand.”
Emmett snorts, and immediately regrets it when his hand rubs at his side.
“Good to know.”
The rough edge to his voice does nothing to help my ability to think.
By the time the bathroom door clicks shut, I’m left standing there, wondering why this man makes me forget how to function like the intelligent woman I am.
Shaking off the ridiculous effect a few words and one heated look from him seem to have on me, I retreat to the half bath. Just far enough for me to get myself together before circumstance shoves us back into the same space.
While he showers, I freshen up and change into a pair of black scrubs, trying and failing not to think about the fact that he’s naked in the other room.
Giving him space the last few days has left me walking around as a version of myself I don’t like—detached, unnatural, and wound so tight it’s only a matter of time before something snaps.
And if I’m being honest . . . I don’t think it’s doing Emmett any favors either. He’s used to being on his own, but not like thi—in someone else’s space, without his crew or work. Nothing but his own thoughts and silence to keep him company.
I send Atlas a quick text, and when he confirms he can help, I clutch the phone to my chest, letting go of some of the tension living between my shoulders.
It takes a village, and I’ve got one he can borrow.
Emmett’s spent years building walls.
Brick by brick.
And if all this town can do is build a ladder tall enough to climb over them . . . maybe that’s enough.