Chapter Twenty-Six
Twenty-Six
It was fun, Emmy decided later. Just not successful. Not even close.
They’d laughed at each other’s poor creative writing skills, nitpicked over details they disagreed on, and continuously rewarded themselves for their hard work with rounds of Scrabble and Battleship.
Hours passed, and they returned to their document only to find they’d written about four pages. Not a single word of it was useable.
“I think it’s safe to say that this has no chance of becoming a best-seller,” Will said.
“I have to agree with you. This is pure cringe.”
Will sat back in the office chair. “Now what? Do we keep trying?”
“Maybe we should write an outline?” Emmy suggested uncertainly.
They’d spent a considerable amount of time on this project already.
Evening was approaching. But she hated the idea of giving up.
It had felt good to take action. “We can discuss over dinner,” she decided. “You promised to take me out.”
“That I did,” Will said.
He took her hand and pulled her to her feet with him. Then he just stood there, his eyes on hers. Emmy felt heat ripple over her skin. She knew that look.
Slowly, watching her all the while, Will lifted her hand to his lips. He laid a kiss on her knuckles, turned her hand over, pressed his lips to her wrist. Emmy’s pulse kicked up. She was sure he could feel it.
“After dinner…” Will said huskily, his lips brushing her skin as he spoke.
“Yeah,” Emmy agreed, though she wondered if maybe there was a case for before dinner.
Then her stomach growled audibly, ending the moment. Will smiled and pressed one last kiss against her palm.
“Let’s eat.”
*
They went to The Bell & Whistle. He’d taken Emmy there once before on a weekend. There had been live music and a huge crowd.
This time around, a weekday evening, was much calmer. They found a table easily. That is, they found a table after Will stopped to chat with a half dozen familiar faces. It was a small-town thing, Emmy knew.
Their server, who appeared to still be shy of his twentieth birthday, came up to them a minute later. His eyes landed on Emmy, and he froze. She watched his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed.
“Hi,” he said.
“Hi,” Emmy replied, trying for a polite smile.
“Uh… drinks? I mean… do you want to drink?”
“Water for me,” Will said, capturing the kid’s attention.
He blinked at Will as if seeing him for the first time.
“Same here,” Emmy added.
“Yeah, okay. Yeah. Water. Two waters.” He scribbled on his pad, though Emmy hoped he wouldn’t need the reminder.
After he scurried off, Emmy looked at Will. “First day on the job?”
Will shrugged. “I’ve seen him around. I think he’s on break from college or something. You made him nervous.”
Emmy wasn’t sure if that was the case or not. She thought of Paul’s proposal earlier that morning, not to mention all the meet-cutes she’d staved off when she first arrived. Will’s presence was supposed to have fixed that problem. Was his effect wearing off?
She tried to shake off the feeling of foreboding that had crept over her, but she kept noticing little things throughout the meal.
Any time a man came in the door or left for the night, they seemed to take a moment to look at her.
Even if they were with a partner or friends.
She saw more than one significant other give a reprimanding smack on a boyfriend’s or husband’s arm.
Feeling itchy, Emmy shifted her shoulders.
The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end.
When their server came to drop off the check, he remained standing at their table, staring silently. Emmy pushed the little paper toward Will, but kept her eyes on the nervous teenager.
“Do you want to go to a movie?” the waiter blurted.
“Not right now, thanks,” Emmy told him.
“Oh.”
Will, fortunately, had cash with him. He slapped some bills on the table and stood up, purposefully doing so in a way that forced the young server to shift out of the way.
“Keep the change,” Will said.
Emmy scooted out of the booth after him. She didn’t let herself look anywhere but at the door as they left, but she felt eyes on her back the whole way there.
Back in the car, Will took a moment before starting the ignition.
“That was… awkward,” he said into the silence.
“Yeah.”
“Not exactly the romantic, celebratory dinner I’d been hoping for.”
Emmy watched another couple stroll out of the restaurant. The man—old enough to be her father—craned his neck to stare at her as he passed.
She shuddered.
“Will… we have to get out of here.”
Though he took that moment to put the car in reverse and pull out of the space, the weight of his silence told Emmy he understood she’d been referring to the book, not the parking lot.
“We’ll figure it out,” he said a minute later.
He took one hand off the steering wheel, laid it over hers.
Yeah, they’d figure it out.
It was full dark out by the time Will pulled up the driveway. He hit the brakes hard before they made it to the garage. Confused, Emmy followed his horrified gaze. Her jaw dropped.
The front yard looked like a war zone.
Shrubs had been torn apart. Clumps of dirt, broken branches, and stray leaves littered the lawn and the front walk.
The siding of the house was stained with splatters of wet soil.
Flowers, ripped violently out of the earth, lay like corpses all around the yard.
Emmy felt her heart break when she saw the birdbath on its side next to the irreparably dented watering can.
It looked like someone had stomped on it.
And the wind chime. Oh God, the wind chime was in pieces. She saw them scattered all over the place as if each individual part had been removed and deliberately thrown in a different direction.
There was no doubt who was behind the destruction. He was currently standing, half in shadow, at the side of the house, grinding the heel of his work boot into a cluster of daffodils.
“Emmy…”
She knew Will was going to tell her to stay in the car.
There was no way in hell.
She was out the door like a bullet. Will called after her, but she ignored him. Rage and grief were a maelstrom inside her, propelling her forward.
Paul saw her coming. The glow of the car’s headlights washed over his face when he turned toward her, revealing the unfocused expression of someone highly intoxicated.
“Emmy. I knew you’d come back to me.”
She didn’t think. She simply drove her right fist as hard as she could into his unguarded stomach.
When he doubled over, wheezing, she brought her left fist up and struck again.
Pain exploded in her hand, but it faded into the background of her consciousness almost immediately.
Paul stumbled back, pressing a hand to his bleeding nose.
His eyes were wide with shock and betrayal.
“Leave!” Emmy shouted. She knew Will was standing behind her at this point, but kept her focus on Paul.
“Why are you doing this?” Paul asked. “I love you.”
“I don’t care,” Emmy seethed. “I don’t care what you feel or what you think you feel. What you’ve done here is unforgiveable.”
“Emmy…”
“Kiero!” she roared. “Get out of my sight! Go back to your farm. Grow vegetables. Get therapy.”
“I’d do what she says, man,” Will added. “I don’t want to get the police involved.”
Whether it was his throbbing nose, his aching heart, or his need to stay out of jail, Emmy didn’t know, but Paul shuffled off.
She and Will watched him leave. Since she didn’t see his truck anywhere, Emmy figured he’d either walked all this way or parked somewhere out of sight.
She didn’t care. As long as he got gone and stayed gone.
Will laid a hand on her shoulder. “Go inside, Em. I have to pull the car into the garage.”
She looked up at him as sorrow rushed in to douse the flames of her anger. “The flowers…” She felt tears on her cheeks. “He killed all the flowers.”
“We’ll clean them up tomorrow,” he said. “We’ll buy whatever you need to replace what he killed. I’ll help you fix everything. Just do me a favor and wait ’til morning.”
Emmy thought of all the damage that had been done.
It hurt. It hurt so much to know what had happened, to imagine what this mess would look like in the morning.
But… maybe she could see this as an opportunity to build something with Will instead of for him.
Maybe it could be symbolic or something.
Maybe… maybe she just needed to leave it, like he said.
Will brushed the drying tears off her cheeks, held her face in his hands. “We’ll fix it,” he told her. “I’ll help you. You won’t have to do it alone. I’ll be the best landscape apprentice you could ever ask for.”
She found she could smile a little, and it was a relief. “Okay.”
She went into the house and sat on the couch, cradling her left hand in her right. It was a shock to see the bruised and swollen knuckles.
“Told you so,” Will said when he walked in after parking the car in the garage.
“Huh?”
“Fistfights. They’re nasty. Let me see.”
He crouched in front of her, gently probed at the reddened skin. Emmy winced when he hit a particularly tender spot, then felt her heart melt into a gooey puddle when he kissed the hurt.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I wanted to make sure you didn’t break anything. It looks like all you’ll need is some antiseptic and an ice pack. Can you move okay? Wiggle your fingers? Bend your wrist?”
Emmy slowly took her hand from his and rotated it, bent it forward and back. She watched him watching her, wondered why it was so sexy the way he focused on the movements. Apparently satisfied, he nodded, then took her right hand and helped her to her feet.
When Emmy looked up at him, Will simply forgot to breathe. Her brown eyes glistened with lingering tears, her expression soft and open. She was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. Then she wrapped her arms around his waist in a sweet, simple hug.
“Thank you for taking care of my hand,” she said quietly.
“You’re welcome.”