Chapter 19
Emma and Ryan arrived in Washington DC a little after four o’clock on Tuesday, the day before Derek’s birthday. The six-hour ride had left them both restless so, after checking into their hotel, they went for a walk around the National Mall to stretch their legs.
“I remember coming here on an eighth grade class trip,” she said, glancing over at the Smithsonian Air and Space Museum as they walked past. “It was my first time in Washington DC, and I was so friggin’ bored the whole time.”
“Terrible age to take kids on a trip like that, really,” Ryan said with a smile.
“Seriously. All anyone cared about was going to Busch Gardens on the last day.”
“I cut school the whole week, and no one even noticed,” he said.
“You didn’t go to DC?”
“At fourteen, I was much more interested in securing contraband beer and cutting class than learning how our government works.”
And probably he’d had no one to pay for the trip for him, Emma realized with a twinge of regret. She remembered that her mother had had to take a payment plan from the school system to send her and her brother, but she wouldn’t hear of letting them miss out on the trip. “So have you been here other than for Derek’s funeral?”
He nodded. “Came back a few years later to pay my respects when I was passing through, looking for work.”
“So you’ve never really played tourist here?”
He gave her a mock-serious look. “Playing tourist is not really my thing.”
She nudged her shoulder against his. “Cut it out. We’ve got to hit a few of the landmarks while we’re here. And”—she glanced back at the museum they had just passed—“we’ve got to go into the Air and Space Museum.”
“Museums aren’t my style, Em,” he said, but there was a twinkle in his eye.
“It’s free, and it’s really cool. Come on.” She led the way toward the entrance. Thirty minutes later, Ryan had discovered the flight simulators and dragged her inside the “fighter jet,” which actually turned a full three hundred and sixty degrees when you flipped the plane.
Emma shrieked as he flipped them upside down. Her feet hung suspended in front of her, her hair dangling above her head. Ryan was laughing like a kid as he fired at the enemy plane on the simulation screen in front of them without making any attempt to right their plane.
Finally, she reached over and grabbed his control, swinging them out of their barrel roll.
“You’re no fun,” he said with a smile.
“I’m lots of fun, but whoa…head rush.”
They rode in the flight simulator four times, until Emma begged for mercy. After they left the Smithsonian, they walked by the Capitol Building then went in search of dinner. They ended up at a little hole in the wall Chinese restaurant that served some of the best kung pao chicken she’d ever tasted.
“Okay, you’re right. Being a tourist is fun sometimes,” Ryan said as he popped half of a fortune cookie in his mouth.
“If it involves hanging upside down in a flight simulator?” she asked with a giggle.
He shrugged. “Always wanted to fly a plane.”
“Not sure I’d let you fly me anywhere in a real plane.”
“Yo, watch it.” He pointed his fork at her, then winked. “You’ll pay for that later.”
She smiled, then sobered. “I’m glad you came with me for this.”
His smile faded, too. “So am I.”
Ryan woketo near darkness in the hotel room, but the clock on the table beside the bed said it was a few minutes past eight. Sunlight illuminated the edges of the thick curtains covering the window. Emma slept beside him, naked beneath the covers, her legs entwined with his. He hooked an arm around her waist, drawing her closer.
She murmured in her sleep, pressing her ass against his cock. Torture.
But she looked so peaceful that he wasn’t about to disturb her. Instead, he closed his eyes and fantasized about all the things he wanted to do when she woke up. Somewhere after taking her against the wall beneath a scorching hot shower, he must have dozed off because, the next thing he knew, he jerked awake. The clock read nine fifteen.
Emma’s hips moved restlessly against his, and she whimpered in her sleep. His cock was painfully hard, as if he’d done nothing but dream about sex for the past hour, which was probably true.
If he wasn’t mistaken, she was dreaming about sex, too. She moaned, her hips occasionally bucking against the sheets. With a sigh, she rolled to face him. Her eyes were closed, her body draped against his. She kept moving, still lost in her sex dream and rocking against him until, with a cry, she went still. And her eyes popped open.
“Mornin’,” he said, his voice deep with sleep and arousal.
“What in the…” Her blue eyes were wide, her cheeks flushed.
“Did you just come in your sleep, sweetheart?”
She sucked in a breath then laughed. “I think I did. And I think you helped.”
“I’d say I was more of a spectator,” he said with a laugh of his own.
Her cheeks turned pink. “That’s maybe a little embarrassing.”
“Are you kidding? It was sexy as hell.”
She reached down and wrapped her fingers around his aching cock. “Maybe I can return the favor?”
“I wouldn’t say no to that offer.” He closed his eyes, unable to contain a groan as she slid her hands up and down his cock. She kept her movements painfully slow at first, and he fisted his hands in the sheets, desperate for more. He pumped his hips against her, increasing the pace, too far gone to hold back.
She tightened her grip and stroked faster, harder, until all he could feel was the friction of her skin on his and the need rising like a tidal wave inside him. He swore as he broke, coming in several hot spurts against her belly.
“Fuck.” He clutched her against him, his body still tingling with aftershocks.
“Not a bad way to wake up,” she said softly.
“Not bad at all.”
They finally made it out of bed—where he indeed took her against the wall in the shower—then dressed and headed out for food and some more sightseeing before they visited Arlington National Cemetery.
They got bagels and coffee and walked past the White House, the Washington Monument, and the Lincoln Memorial. Despite his usual dislike of sightseeing, he had to admit this was pretty cool. So much history here. And really, the truth was, he seemed to enjoy anything if Emma was at his side.
They had a late lunch at an outdoor café then found a flower shop where Emma picked out an arrangement to bring to Derek’s grave. Their festive mood had sobered somewhat by the time they hopped on the Metro, which took them under the Potomac River to the cemetery.
Emma didn’t stop at the welcome center for a map. Instead, she struck out down the network of paths and roads through the cemetery by memory. The sheer size of the cemetery was humbling. Row after row after row of fallen service members, as far as he could see in every direction.
Large trees grew amid the tombstones, and the green grass beneath their feet was meticulously tended. Birds called overhead. Along the edges of the field, flowers bloomed brightly. It was reassuring, somehow, to see nature so alive here, a visual reminder that life went on, even in the face of such enormous loss.
Emma slid her hand into his and squeezed. She had on a blue sundress, which had seemed fun and flirty while they were playing tourist but took on a more somber look now. She led him down a row of graves and stopped before the white tombstone bearing Derek’s name. She bent to place the flowers in front of it. He hooked an arm around her shoulders as they stood together in front of Derek’s grave.
He had such a vivid memory of standing beside her like this ten years ago at the funeral. She’d been so stoic that day in a black dress meant for someone much older than her seventeen years, refusing to let her tears fall until after the crowd had left. It had been just the two of them then, too. She’d sobbed on his shoulder, and he’d promised he would always be there for her.
He’d promised Derek he’d never sleep with her. Maybe she was right when she said that Derek hadn’t been looking this far into the future when he’d warned Ryan away from her, but standing here right now…
He felt like the worst kind of asshole.
Coming here with Emma today had been just the wake-up call he needed, a solid slap in the face to remind him of what Derek had sacrificed. Of the promise Ryan had made. Of all the reasons he never should have taken her in his bed.
A funeral was in progress on the other side of the cemetery. Emma leaned into him, glancing in that direction. “I hate what those people are going through right now.”
“Yeah.”
“You never could have convinced me of it at the time, but the heart really does heal,” she said softly. “It doesn’t hurt nearly as much now.”
“I’m glad.” He knew what she meant. The pain of losing his mom had faded, too. It would never go away altogether, but visiting her grave felt almost peaceful now.
“Thanks for coming here with me.”
“I’m glad I got the chance.” Still feeling as though Derek was looking down on him from somewhere up high, he dropped his arm from Emma’s shoulders. It was for the best she’d be leaving town soon.
Because deep down, he knew she should never have been his.