Emily’s Escape (Blade & Arrow World #3)

Chapter 1

DEREK

“I still can’t believe I did it.”

Emily scans the surrounding crowd before turning back to me. With a wide smile that tugs at the dimple in her left cheek, she adds, “I was sure I’d have to bail halfway through. But it wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be.”

I tuck a flyaway strand of hair behind her ear, then cup her cheek and pull her in for a kiss. She tastes faintly of sweet mint and salt—the mint from the toothpaste we used back at my parents’ place, and salt from the exertion of the race we just completed.

Even though it’s still early in the day, the summer heat is already attacking with a vengeance.

At just ten AM, the temperature is nudging eighty-five, and it’s predicted to hit ninety before the day is over.

And with the sky a clear blue, without a cloud in sight, there’s little reprieve from the sun beating down on us.

Eyeing Em’s reddening shoulders, I notice a fresh smattering of freckles that wasn’t there before. I love her little cheetah spots, as I’ve taken to calling them, but I don’t want her getting sunburnt, either. Placing my hand over her heated skin, I ask, “Did you put sunscreen on before we left?”

Emily blinks at the change of subject. Her brows pinch together. “I did,” she replies after a moment’s thought. Then she cranes her head to look at her shoulder. “Maybe I should have used a higher SPF, though.”

“I’ll see about finding you more,” I tell her. “I’m sure one of the stores nearby sells some.”

“It’s okay.” She stretches up on her toes to kiss me back. Her eyes crinkle with amusement. “A few extra cheetah spots probably made me run faster.”

“You did great.” Hugging her to me, I press my lips to the top of her head. “Your time was even better than on any of the practice runs.” After a beat, I amend, “Not that it’s a competition. Just finishing the race is an accomplishment.”

I’m not just speaking for her. Two years ago, I would never have imagined myself here, celebrating another successful completion of the Boilermaker, a 15K held annually in my hometown of Utica, New York.

Back in my high school and college days, when I was a competitive runner, taking part in the Boilermaker was basically a given.

And I didn’t just participate, I took it seriously.

Every year, I went in with the expectation of finishing in the top five, at least. Finishing in the middle of the pack, like I did this year, would have been an embarrassment.

But a decade later, I’m proud just to have completed it.

I still remember those early days at the VA hospital, when I wasn’t sure if I’d ever walk again. With everything below my left knee gone, thanks to an IED that hit our RSOV—Ranger Special Operations Vehicle—I felt broken. Incomplete. I felt like I’d failed.

Back then, a high-tech bionic prosthetic was little comfort.

Hearing about all its fancy features didn’t make me feel better.

All I could think about was the man I used to be—all-time record holder in the 800 meters at Syracuse University, Olympic hopeful, and later, combat medic with the Rangers—and how I’d never be that person again.

But something my physical therapist said stuck with me. “It’s not going to be easy,” she told me during one of our first sessions. “And there will be times when you feel like giving up. But if you stick it out, you won’t regret it. I promise.”

Then she told me the story of how she lost her hearing in high school. “It’s not the same as what happened to you,” Bea was quick to add, “but I know how it feels to lose something important. Something that makes you feel like you’ll never be the same without it.”

But she learned, in time, that different didn’t have to be bad.

That something good could come out of it.

“It helps me understand what my patients are going through,” she explained.

“And”—she tapped one of the cochlear implants nearly hidden behind her ear—“my dad liked to tell me this was like having a superpower. Having something special most people don’t. I liked that. I still do.”

I didn’t accept what Bea said right away. But in time, I did.

No, I’m not the same man I used to be. But I’m damn proud of the man I am now.

“I got caught up in the excitement of it,” Emily says.

She glances around the packed parking lot, where hundreds of runners and their friends and family are gathered.

The atmosphere is definitely celebratory, with people dancing along to a live band and toasting each other with beer provided by a local brewery.

“I know you said it would be crowded. But I had no idea how crowded until we got here.”

“Yeah.” I loop my arm around her waist, tugging her to my side. “It’s definitely one of the biggest events in Utica. And one of my favorites.”

Em follows my gaze to land on a cluster of twenty-something men raising their beers in the air as they toast each other.

They remind me a little of myself at that age.

A year ago, I might have been jealous of them.

But now, with my muscles humming from the run and my beautiful girlfriend by my side, I wouldn’t swap places with them for a second.

“I’m so glad you suggested coming,” she comments. “It’s nice to visit your parents, of course. But this… it’s not like anything I’ve ever done before.”

“Does that mean you want to do more races?” I ask with a lift of my brows. “Maybe a half marathon next time?”

Emily stares at me for a second before bursting into laughter. “A half marathon? I think that might be pushing it.”

“It’s not that much further than a 15K. Just about four miles or so.”

“Hmm.” Her forehead scrunches in thought. “I guess that’s not too bad.”

“A buddy of mine from the Army organizes a bunch of races around the country,” I tell her. “He usually does a 5K in DC every January. But last time I spoke with him, he said he was thinking about adding a half marathon to it. Try to bring in some more experienced runners.”

“Can I think about it?” she asks. “Since it’s not for another six months?”

“Of course.” I kiss her cheek. “And it’s fine if you don’t want to. I just thought, since you seemed to enjoy this one, you might like a longer race, too.”

Honestly, I was surprised the first time Emily asked about running a 5K with me.

We’d been dating for a few months, and up to that point, she’d never shown much enthusiasm for running.

Swimming is her thing—that’s actually how we met, doing laps at the YMCA—and I would have been completely fine if she never came running with me.

But she knew important it used to be to me, and how hard I’d been working to make it a part of my life again.

So when I mentioned a 5K I’d recently done, she asked if she could run the next one with me.

“It’s for charity, after all,” she explained.

“And I know how much you love it. So I thought it might be fun to see what it’s all about. ”

So we started training, and a month later, we ran a 5K together.

Since then, we’ve done three more 5Ks, but this one is the longest race Em’s ever done.

If she said this was too much, or even that she didn’t want to run with me anymore, I’d be fine with it.

After all, she’s my girlfriend, not my running partner.

But I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t nice having her here.

As we’re both surveying the crowd, two young women pass in front of us.

One of them sees me and stops so quickly, her friend nearly runs her over.

The one who stopped says something to her friend, and seconds later, their eyes move to my prosthetic.

They don’t give it a subtle glance that just as quickly skitters away, like many people do when they see me in shorts.

No, they stare boldly at it, like it’s an exhibit in a museum instead of an extension of my leg.

A niggle of discomfort pokes at me. Though I’ve spent the last two years training myself not to be ashamed of my prosthetic, reminding myself that it’s okay to wear shorts in the summer like a regular person instead of covering myself, I can’t help wishing, just for a second, that I’d chosen to wear sweatpants instead.

That would be incredibly stupid, given the weather. And I know better than to let some random strangers’ stares bother me. But—

Beside me, Emily stiffens. Her chin lifts. Her expression turns fierce as she glares at the two women. Fire sparks from her eyes.

A beat later, Em moves so she’s in front of me.

Then she frames my face with her hands and kisses me hard.

Her tongue plunges into my mouth, tangling with mine.

Her breasts press temptingly against my chest, and through her sports bra and tank, I can feel her nipples pebbling into hard peaks.

Though we’re smack in the middle of an enormous crowd, I can’t stop my body from reacting.

All too soon—or maybe just in time, considering my erection jutting hard against her belly—Em ends the kiss and flashes the two women a challenging look.

But they’re already scurrying away, pink-faced, with sheepish expressions.

Emily glares at their retreating backs for another few seconds before turning back to me.

“Anyway,” she says brightly, “we can talk about the half marathon once we’re back home.

Maybe try a few practice runs to see how it feels. ”

Though part of me feels weird about Em trying to defend me—because that’s what she was doing, no doubt—there’s a bigger part that’s touched that she wanted to do it.

“That’s fine,” I reply. Taking her hand, I wrap my fingers around it. “It’s just a thought.” Angling my chin to the right, I add, “That tent has sunglasses and hats for sale. So they might have lotion with SPF, too. Want to go check it out?”

“Sure.” Em flashes me a quick smile. “As long as we can find something to eat, too. I think I’m getting kind of hungry.”