4. Dom
Sitting inside Emma’s house while I know damn well she is out there crying cuts a hole into my chest and rips out tiny slivers of my heart, one by one.
She may as well be screaming at the top of her lungs instead of the quiet whimpers I hear through the wall. I hear every intake of breath. Every silent sob. Every single move she makes echoes through the silence in her house and brands itself into my mind in a way I won’t ever forget.
Emma Hayes. The woman I can’t have. The only good and shining thing in a world filled with death and violence.
Not even Linc understands why I won’t give her a chance. He’s constantly prodding me into her direction, reminding me of who she is and why I can’t have her.
Why I won’t take what I know beyond a shadow of a doubt belongs to me.
But I know, and that’s the problem.
I remember the look on her face when we came home from overseas, when Danny wasn’t with us. I remember the smile of happiness at having one of her brothers home, and the tears she shed at the loss of the other. I remember all of it, even if she was only sixteen at the time. I couldn’t do anything then. I couldn’t stop her tears or give her a reason not to cry. I couldn’t do anything, even if I felt her calling out to the very fiber of my being.
But now?
Now she isn’t a stranger.
Now she’s not just a friend’s little sister going through the worst kind of family tragedy. Now she’s all grown-up, and I don’t have to walk away.
Not anymore.
With one idle look down the hall to where my mother is most likely reading a romance novel that would make most grown men blush, I follow Emma out onto the back porch.
Her tear-stained eyes flash at me through the dim yellow light. “What are you doing out here?”
“I’m not going to just let you cry yourself to sleep outside.” I don’t waste a single second walking over to where she leans against the porch railing with her head on her knees. I sit right down, folding myself into a pretzel just so I’ll be able to sit in the small amount of space left next to her.
“Go away, Dom.” Emma shuts her eyes and mutters against her hands, which she cradles against her head and knees. “I don’t want to be around anyone right now.” I can practically hear the correction in her words. She doesn’t want to be around me.
Too bad, bonita.
“Good,” I tell her. “I don’t want to be around anyone either. We can be alone together.”
“That’s not how being alone works.” She sniffs. “Just go.”
“Look.” I lower my voice and try to eliminate any sort of emotion from it. “You shouldn’t be alone right now. I’m not trying to take away your right to decide what happens after this moment. But I don’t think you should be by yourself. Tonight has been… exhausting. Not just because of what it means for that little girl asleep in there.” I clear my throat as softly as I can. “But because of the stress you took on as a result of what’s happening. You’re not her mother or father. You’re not her family, but you took on that burden to protect a little girl. You absorbed any of the negativity headed her way tonight, to give her peace. Now, though, you need to take a breath and take care of yourself.”
Fuck. I never talk this much. Ever.
While I am contemplating getting up and leaving just from the embarrassment of being caught with my tongue wagging, I make the mistake of looking into Emma’s tear-filled eyes, and I’m completely lost.
Lost in the same way I laugh at Linc and Remy for falling prey to their emotions. In the sense that I don’t know a single thing about the woman sitting next to me, but if she asks me to cut out my liver and hand it to her, I’ll do it with a smile on my face. And there isn’t a goddamn thing I can do about it, either. I can’t wait three months to get Emma to give us a chance. I don’t even think I can wait an hour, and that is the most fucked-up truth I’ve ever known.
I want her.
Worse than that, I think I need her and I don’t understand why.
So when she closes her hazel eyes and her blond hair slips down into her face, I don’t think twice about moving the strands away from her cheek.
Instead of pulling away, Emma leans into my hand for a fraction of a second. Just long enough for the soft touch of her skin to brand its way into my body like her tears just moments earlier had branded themselves into my soul.
“I’m so fucking tired.” She exhales slowly, and all of the fight leaves her shoulders. Where a fiery virago sat only moments before, ordering me to leave her alone, now sits a shell of the woman I’ve come to expect.
After letting her pull away, I subtly try to scoot closer to her, like we’re kids in school sneaking affection. “What?” I prod playfully, trying to ease the stress I feel coming off her in waves. “No flasks of the good stuff strapped to your thighs to help you get through it?”
For a long time, she doesn’t say anything. Instead, she leans over, resting her head on my arm while I fight the urge to wrap my body around her. In the quiet air around us, I almost forget about the tragedy that reached for her as an old friend welcoming her home. Watching it, seeing how she allows her life to be taken over by outside forces, it’s more than any man can take.
“There’s not enough alcohol in the world to get through this,” Emma whispers more to herself than in response to my question. “But thank you for trying to make me feel better, Dom. I know you don’t want to be here.”
“I don’t like talking.” The admission tears from my lips and once again I feel like an idiot, but I’m too far gone to stop now. “You’re easy to talk to, though. You drag it out of me, word by word, and pretty soon I’m just telling you everything. It’s happened twice tonight.” I pause, waiting for her to say something smart-ass or tell me off, but Emma doesn’t even twitch from her spot against my arm.
Fuck it.
I wrap my arm around her, shifting until she was presses against my side and my body protects her against whatever imaginary monsters are out in the dark.
“You’re a dick, you know that?” Her soft voice filters through the air and takes me by complete surprise. “A big fat jerky dick. And I’m still mad at you.”
“What? Why?” My arm almost slips from around her shoulders, but it doesn’t. Honestly, I’m afraid that if I let her get away, Emma won’t ever give me a chance.
“You were gone for a month and you didn’t say anything. I thought… I just thought I annoyed you or something and made you run away. You vanished and didn’t say anything, and I was too chicken to ask anyone where you were because that means I care. And I don’t care. Not really.”
At that, I snort. “You are annoying. Who brings flasks of alcohol strapped to the insides of their thighs to a wedding? And then you almost flashed the wedding party. It was all I could think about while I was gone. The way your dress lifted up and I almost had to blind my friends for seeing the perfection you’re hiding.”
I should have known Emma Hayes is smarter than she lets on.
“Your mom said that you’re still serving.” She relaxes a little more in my hold, sinking into my side and letting me cover her, even while she does her best to ignore the blatant admission of my desire for her. “Is that where you were?”
One question, and I’m a wreck. A silent wreck who doesn’t have a clue what to say. What to give her, because she deserves the truth. A truth that will ensure that she never truly belongs to me.
“Of course that’s where you were,” she murmurs. “It’s the only thing that makes sense.”
“Reserves,” I correct her absently. “I’m not active duty anymore.”
“I wanted to dance with you at the wedding,” Emma says quietly, more bashful than I’ve ever imagined she is capable of. “And then you were gone.”
Shoving off the porch and struggling to keep from groaning at the aches the sudden movement cost me, I turn to face a surprised Emma with an outstretched hand.
“Dance with me now?”
She stares at me like I’ve grown a second head. “What?”
“I missed the dance before because I got called to work and I couldn’t not go. Will you dance with me now?” When she looks like she’s going to reject me, I practically beg. “Please, Emma. Dance with me.”
Emma looks around, her eyes wide like she’s trying to figure out what the joke is or if anyone’s watching. I can’t blame her, either. What I’m doing is absolutely batty. Dancing in the dead of night, with everything that’s happened, seems like an insane idea. Still, my hand never wavers as I wait for her to take it.
Slowly, hesitantly, she reaches out and her slightly trembling fingers come to rest in my palm. Without missing a beat, I close my hand around hers and lead her to the barely illuminated grass.
“This is ridiculous. I hope you know that.” Her words slide over me, a soothing balm for the crazy that I’m pulling us both into.
But she doesn’t pull away.
“I know.” That’s all I say. All I can say.
Nerves, anxiety, whatever I’m feeling all compound together and I’m left feeling like I did when I was sitting behind the scope of my weapon during my first deployment. Except Emma isn’t my enemy, meant to be watched for days. She’s so much more than anything I ever even dreamed possible.
“I hope you have some sort of song in your head, because I don’t.” She’s babbling, and it’s kind of cute. The way she’s trying to brush this moment off.
I know the truth, even if she’s not able to face it.
She’s the only thing I want in my life. An obsession I haven’t been able to kick. I can’t get her out of my head, and I’ve never even held her in my arms before tonight.
So when I have the chance, when her defenses are down and we aren’t at war, I take the opportunity to pull her body against mine. Then I dance with her to the sound of the wind blowing through the trees. The quiet symphony of the night air offers the only serenade that I need while I lead Emma through the steps of a simple waltz. Our muffled steps are only heard by the sound of the grass beneath our feet crunching in the damp night.
Silently, I thank my mother and father for insisting that all of their children learn how to dance.
When Emma leans forward and lets her head rest on my chest, even the faint sounds around us vanish. Only the steady rhythm of our combined breathing can be heard over the roaring of the blood pumping through my veins and my heart racing.
We stop moving, the dance forgotten in the comfort of our embrace, but she doesn’t pull away.
Shit.
I can’t not touch her.
I need more.
Without letting go of her body, I move one hand to the side of her face and gently lift it so that I can look into a pair of eyes that steal my breath, even with red and blotchy streaks on her cheeks from when she’d been crying.
“You’re beautiful,” I tell her.
My lips seek hers, and I swear fireworks explode all around us when they finally meet. Stars dance behind my closed lids, and I practically groan when she opens her mouth against mine.
Soft and supple, her kiss is everything I ever thought it would be and more. Her lips are a siren’s call in the flesh, commanding my presence and demanding my attention.
And I’m lost.
Until there’s nothing left for me to do but deepen the kiss by gently probing the seam of her lips with my tongue.
Shocked doesn’t even begin to cover my emotions when I hear a small moan, followed closely by her opening for me.
Our tongues dance together the same way our bodies moved only minutes before. When her hands grab my shirt and twist, locking me against her, I smile and practically lift her off her feet in my excitement.
The moment comes crashing to a halt, however, when the back door swings open and crashes against the side of Emma’s house.
“Emma,” a small and frightened voice calls out. “Emma, I had a bad dream.”
Just like that, Emma pushes away and practically runs up the steps. A small girl, who looks more like Emma’s daughter than her neighbor, throws herself into Emma’s arms and starts to sob quietly.
Cautiously, I follow her up the stairs to the back porch to assess the situation.
“I know you.” The little girl cocks her head to the side, almost knocking into Emma’s forehead while she stares at me. “You’re the police officer who comes to my school sometimes with Officer Townsend and Daisy.”
I don’t recognize her, but she’s right. I do spend a lot of time at Birch Elementary School. All the officers do, especially after the last few years have wreaked havoc on our small town. Plus, it’s a great way to rack up the overtime, which is good when I spend one weekend a month off duty for the Marine Corps and I have bills that need to be paid.
“Yeah,” I tell her with a hesitant smile, unsure of my place here and what’s about to happen to her. “I do spend time there. I’m surprised you know who I am, though. I’m not the one with the dog.” Most kids don’t care about anyone but Remy and his K-9 partner, Daisy.
Bianca—because who else would it be in Emma’s arms—shakes her head. “I’m allergic to dogs, so I can’t pet her when she’s allowed to play with us. I look at people instead.” Her eyes widen, and I see something there. Fear, mixed with something more, before she shoves herself further into Emma’s arms and lowers her voice, more fear there than there should be. “You didn’t tell him what I said, did you?” Clearly thinking that I won’t hear, I pretend that I haven’t and wait for Emma to answer.
“No,” Emma sniffs suddenly, and I can tell that she’s barely holding on to her emotions. “Bee, something bad happened, and he’s here to make sure that you’re okay tonight. That we’re both okay tonight.”
I should have taken over. I should have stepped up and told Bianca what happened to her parents. But in that moment, I completely freeze.
Emma, holding that little girl as they both fall apart, sends a thought into my mind that I’ll never be able to get rid of. And as Emma opens her mouth, she isn’t just talking to Bianca anymore. No. She’s holding a little girl who has her mother’s eyes and my complexion. Instead of watching Emma tell a little girl that her mother and father are gone, I see Emma… telling our child that I’m never coming home.
And it destroys me.
The kiss.
Every reason I’ve stayed away from her comes flying back in my face and I know.
The kiss was a mistake.
I can’t ask her to wait for me.
She’d be the woman waiting, knowing the terrible things that could happen, and her heart would stutter in her chest with every phone call. With every knock on the door, Emma would think that I was lost.
I can’t fall in love with her.
She’s the type of woman whom you never walk away from. The woman who doesn’t need to be brought home to Mama, because she’s already there. Already burrowed so deep in my life that with one kiss, I know I’m already gone. Already wishing I could turn back time and do it again, even if it’s a mistake.
I can’t let her lose me. Not after everything she went through when her brother died.
I can’t ask her to go through that again.
Emma wouldn’t forgive me, or the world around her, for putting her through that kind of wait, that kind of pain.
I can’t have her.
Not yet.