Chapter 24
CHAPTER
TWENTY-FOUR
ASPEN
His choked yes doesn’t surprise me. He’s already told me enough to know the woman in the photograph is Rory.
Still, the regret twisting across his face at the sound of her name hits me like a punch to the gut.
“It felt too important to leave until morning,” I tell him softly, taking his palm and placing the photograph there.
He follows me into the kitchen, head bowed as he stares down at it.
“I keep it with me,” he says quietly. “But this is the first time I’ve actually looked at it in . . .” He squints like he’s trying to count backward through the years. A rough exhale leaves him. “Hell. It’s been a while.”
Guilt pricks at me instantly.
“If I’d known, I would’ve just slipped it back into your wallet and brought it up tomorrow.” I twist my fingers together. “It was still damp and I didn’t want it getting ruined.”
“No.Thank you for taking care of it.” He shakes his head once. “I just . . . I don’t talk about her. Not with anyone.”
Something about that confession feels perilous. Like he’s handing me something sharp enough to cut us both open.
“And pulling this out . . .” He lets out a humorless laugh. “I usually only do that when I need a reminder.”
“A reminder of what?” The question slips out before I can second-guess it.
He looks down at the picture one last time before turning it toward me.
“Take your pick. That I ruin everything. That Rory isn’t here because of me.”
The words land in a brutal thud.
“She died in a fire.”
The air leaves my lungs in a sharp gasp. Not because of the words themselves, but because he’s saying them to me at all. When he looks at me again, he’s a shell of the man from earlier.
“Didn’t know that part, did you?”
No.
I didn’t.
The shadows I’ve seen hanging off him since the helicopter make horrifying, heartbreaking sense.
“You remind me of her a little—kind, nurturing, feisty when it matters.” The longer he talks the more his voice wobbles. “Rory was the best of us. A real-life miracle to my grandparents and to me. And I’m the reason we lost her.”
I step forward, my hand cupping his cheek. Emmett leans into the touch, his eyes closing, his jaw tight under my palm. “It was an accident,” I say.
He pulls back, expression steely. “No.”
There’s such heartbreaking finality in the word.
“Forgetting to take the meat out of the freezer is an accident. Snoozing your alarm clock one too many times is an accident. She’s dead because of me. Nothing I do can erase that.”
“But you’re trying,” I whisper as much to myself as to him.
He hums. “Am I?”
“You protect people from fires. You’ve saved countless lives, homes, entire communities.”
“It’s the bare fucking minimum. I’ve caused so much pain to everyone who’s ever loved me. Nothing I do will ever make up for that.”
“You really believe that.”
“And you should too. You see the best in people, and you’re seeing things that aren’t there in me. Don’t try to fix me. I’m beyond repair. You should run, Aspen.”
My fingers sink into his hair, anchoring him to me so he can’t look away. “You won’t hurt me, Emmett.”
“I don’t try to hurt people. It just happens.”
“Bullshit. You keep punishing yourself for it—closing yourself off. Acting like you deserve to suffer forever.”
“And I deserve every ounce of pain.”
“You deserve good things. If everything you’ve told me about Rory is true, she’d want you to stop beating yourself up.”
He ducks his head, tongue darting out to wet his lip.
I trace the movement, my head swimming. Whether from the drinks or being this close to him, I can’t be sure.
“Aspen.” His tone softens to one I’ve only ever heard him use with me. “You’re doing it again.” So soothing and patient, his voice wraps around me, safe and warm, the same way I imagine his arms would feel.
“What’s that?” I hum. God, he’s stunning. Whether he’s stern and growly or giving me a half smile, when he’s being antisocial and grumpy, every version of Emmett makes my knees weak. But when he softens just for me . . . it’s heart-stopping.
“Trying to fix things that aren’t your responsibility.”
“I’m not.” It comes out instinctively, maybe a touch defensive, before I mentally unload the baggage that comes with the accusation and focus on who I’m talking to. This is Emmett. Complicated and hurting and impossible to ignore.
“Tell me, Emmett, do I deserve good things? Because you’re what makes me smile. You’re my good thing.”
“Of course you do. But you’re only seeing what you want to.”
“There’s nothing here I want to change. Your past is painful, but you’re here—living, breathing, making the world better every day. My only wish for you is that when you look in the mirror, you see the same thing the rest of us do: a good man doing his very best, no matter how hard that is.”
The rough pad of his thumb presses into my bottom lip, and I fall headfirst into the navy depths of admiration staring down at me. “You’re too fucking pure—an angel dangerous for my soul.”
A sharp inhale catches in my throat. There’s nothing angelic about what I want from Emmett. My weight shifts and my heels lift, no longer rooted in place, acting on impulse and yearning alone.
The gap between us shrinks.
“I’d never risk your soul. I like who you are deep down, when you’re not trying so hard to hide from everyone.”
Emmett drops his head; a hot breath sweeps over my cheek, so close that my skin buzzes.
“You claim I’m blind to what the world sees, and maybe that’s true, although I doubt it, because I see you, Aspen.
I see how you put everyone else first—see how your needs come last. I see your selfless, beautiful spirit, and it makes me want to be the place you rest. And that’s riskier than any fire I’ve fought—any natural disaster I’m trained for.
” His lips graze my ear with each whispered syllable, and I’m holding my breath, waiting for something—for anything really—just . . . more.
He doesn’t pull back, and my heart takes off at a gallop as his head turns, his hand finding my waist.
I’m so certain he’s about to kiss me that my lips part and my eyes drift shut. The moment feels suspended outside reality. There’s the lightest press of his lips at the corner of my mouth and then he’s pulling back.
My entire body sags at the sudden absence of him, and the vibrations playing under my skin turn from anticipation to mortification. My fingers cover the spot his lips barely grazed.
“Aspen,” Emmett rasps. “Look at me.”
When I don’t lift my gaze from the floor, his knuckles hook my chin, tilting it until there’s no choice but to face him.
With my eyes on him, his frown softens. “Never wanted anything more.”
Four words etch themselves on my heart.
“So kiss me.”
Emmett’s chest rumbles—half chuckle, half need. “My angel begs.”
“Hardly,” I huff.
“I’ll taste these lips and make them mine, so ask me again without the warmth of alcohol and your friends’ influence in your veins. Come to me with a clear head and I’ll give you everything I have.”
“Emmett Slate, a gentleman. Who’d have guessed?”
“Hardly,” He mocks. “I just want you willing, pleading, and absolutely certain that you’re okay with this. I might not be good enough for you, but I’ll do everything I can to protect you . . . even if that means protecting you from yourself.”
The thing about being the “fixer” is people stop checking to see if you need anything. Everyone assumes you’ve got it handled, so you do what you always do—take care of it yourself. It can be lonely, which makes hearing Emmett’s vow to protect me from myself hit harder than it should.
“Thank you for this.” He slips the photo back in his wallet, pocketing it. “It’s all I have left of her.”
“Sure. Of course.” I don’t know where to go or what to do from here.
“I can see you overthinking, but there’s nothing more to be done tonight. You must have put in over sixty hours this week. Go get some sleep. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow?” The reminder of how long my week was, a yawn fills my chest. I fight it because, let’s face it, there’s nothing appealing about my chin disappearing into my neck and my jaw unhinging to show this man my molars.
He chuckles. “Unless I’ve been banned from your shower for life?”
Heat floods my cheeks. It’s annoying how many times he’s made me blush today. Maybe I can blame this one on the tequila.
“I’ve asked the council, and they pardoned you.”
“The council. Is that what you call girl’s night?”
“It is now.”
“And they approved.”
“They’re horny and—” An ill-placed yawn sneaks past my defenses. “And can’t be trusted.”
“I’m not fit to carry you to bed yet, Aspen. So if you don’t go on your own, you’ll end up in my bed.”
“Don’t threaten me with a good time.”
“And I’ll end up on the couch.” He’s wearing his serious face when he says it, and some of the tension drains out of me.
It’s for the best. I need to sleep on this and make sure that I’m willing to risk being with Emmett. If we try this and it falls apart, Emmett won’t stay and weather the fallout. He’ll run before he lets things get uncomfortable for me. And somehow, the thought of losing him already hurts.
I lift my hand to his chest, patting it. “Night, Hotshot. Sleep well.”
“Sweet dreams, Aspen.”