5. Emily
Emily
This can’t be real life.
One second, I’m walking home, slightly tipsy but managing just fine, thank you very much. The next, Henry Walker—six-foot-something of broody, Navy SEAL, zero-patience-for-nonsense grump—is lifting me into his arms like I’m some helpless damsel in distress.
For the record, I can walk. My legs function perfectly. But apparently, Henry has decided my transportation is his responsibility now.
“I—wait—put me down!” I sputter, arms flailing as he carries me toward my house like a damn caveman.
His grip tightens slightly, and his voice is as flat as ever. “You looked unsteady.”
“I was unsteady because you scared the life out of me in that alley, not because I need to be carted around like a sack of potatoes!”
He doesn’t even blink. “You want me to drop you?”
I freeze. “No.”
“Then be quiet.”
I narrow my eyes. “You suck at being a fake husband.”
“I’m not here to impress you, sweetheart.”
I scowl. “The least you could do is pretend to be chivalrous.”
“You say that now, but I’m the one carrying you and making sure you don’t crack your skull open.” He climbs the porch steps, entirely unbothered by my ranting. “I’d say that’s peak chivalry.”
Oh, I hate him.
And yet…
His arms are stupidly strong. Solid. Warm. There’s something disturbingly safe about the way he’s holding me, like nothing in the world could touch me as long as he’s around.
Which is ridiculous. Because Henry Walker is not safe.
I groan and drop my head against his shoulder. “This is my life now, huh?”
“Seems like it.”
He kicks the door open, carrying me inside like some over-the-top knight in tactical gear, then deposits me gently onto the couch.
And now he’s in my house.
For the first time, I see him here, in this space that was once my grandmother’s. It’s odd, seeing someone like him—someone so intensely him—in a place that smells like lavender and old books, surrounded by antique furniture and lace curtains.
I should tell him to leave.
Instead, I watch as he shrugs out of his jacket and heads straight for my kitchen.
“What are you doing?”
“Making you food.”
“Why?”
“Because you drank too much, and you’ll feel like hell if you don’t eat.” He’s already rummaging through my cabinets like he owns the place. “And because your grandmother would kill me if I let you go to bed like this.”
I blink. “Wait. You knew my grandmother?”
Henry pauses, then nods. “Yeah.”
A small, unexpected warmth flickers in my chest. “How?”
“She was my homeroom teacher in high school.” He pulls out a pan, sets it on the stove like he’s done this a thousand times before. “She looked out for me. After my parents died.”
I stare at him, trying to process that information.
I’d always known my grandmother had a way of looking after lost causes—stray animals, troubled kids, even the occasional washed-up ex-con trying to get his life back on track.
But the thought of Henry, young Henry, grieving, lost, sitting in some old wooden desk while my grandmother tried to help him... it hits somewhere deep.
And it doesn’t fit with the Henry I know—the one who carries me without asking, who snaps at me like I’m a reckless child, who doesn’t seem to have any softness left in him.
Except, apparently, he does.
A little.
Maybe.
He’s already cracking eggs into a pan, moving around my kitchen like he belongs there.
I eye him suspiciously. “Do you cook often?”
His mouth twitches. “More than you’d think.”
“Right. You seem like the type to survive on protein bars and regret.”
He smirks. “I’m full of surprises.”
And apparently, one of those surprises is that he can cook. Because when I take a bite of whatever he’s made—some kind of scrambled egg situation with toast—it’s... good.
Suspiciously good.
I squint at him. “Are you secretly a chef?”
He leans against the counter, arms crossed. “Secretly, I do a lot of things.”
I shove another bite into my mouth before I say something dumb, like tell me more.
He watches as I eat, then casually starts replacing my window locks.
Because of course he does.
“What are you doing now?” I ask, still chewing.
“Making sure no one breaks in.”
I raise an eyebrow. “This town has a zero-crime rate.”
He doesn’t even look up. “You sure about that?”
I hate that the question makes me shiver.
Instead of acknowledging that, I follow him around the house, watching as he installs security cameras, reinforces the doors, and basically turns my grandmother’s cozy home into Fort Knox.
At some point, I find myself asking, “Do you ever think about what comes next?”
He stops. “Next?”
“Yeah. After the military. Or do you plan to stay forever?”
His jaw tightens.
For a second, I think he won’t answer.
Then, gruffly, he says, “Being a Navy SEAL is the only life I know.”
It’s not an answer. Not really. But there’s something in his tone—something heavy, something unspoken—that makes me drop it.
And now I can’t stop watching him.
I should stop. I should. But as he works, muscles flexing, completely focused, I find myself wondering...
What would he do if I walked up to him and asked him to kiss me again?
Would he want to?
The thought sends heat crawling up my neck, because suddenly I can feel the memory of his lips on mine, the way his body had pressed against me, the sharp, aching pull of something that neither of us wanted to name.
It was just a kiss.
A fake kiss.
Nothing more.
But then why does just thinking about it make my insides twist up?
Henry finally straightens, dusting off his hands. “All done.”
I blink, trying to shake off the very unhelpful thoughts in my head.
“Great. Thanks.” My voice is too casual, too normal.
His gaze lingers for a second, like maybe he sees through me, before he nods and heads for the door.
I watch him walk out, and the second the door clicks shut behind him, I exhale.
Then I groan and drop my forehead onto the table.
Get it together, Carter.
I need a distraction.
Immediately, I grab my phone and dial Logan.
He picks up on the second ring. “Emily Carter. To what do I owe the honor?”
“I want to visit the hospital,” I say, sitting up. “Tour the facilities, see how things run.”
“Planning to take over already?”
“Just planning to be useful.”
He hesitates, then laughs. “I’m having a little meet and greet party of stakeholders, but absolutely. We’ll shift the venue to the hospital hall. Meet me there in the morning.”
“Perfect.”
I hang up, exhaling, feeling slightly more in control.
Work. That’s what I need.
Not Henry.
Not his damn kiss. And definitely not the way he’s starting to make me feel.
But as I stare at my phone, my finger hovering over the call log, I can’t help but notice Henry’s number—saved to my speed dial, just one tap away.
And for a second, I wonder...
What would happen if I called him?
Would he answer?
Would he come back if I tell him to?
And—most terrifying of all—
If I ask him to kiss me again, would he?
***
The hospital air smells like antiseptic and coffee—two things that feel like home in a strange way. Walking through the halls of Harmony Springs General, I find myself slipping into doctor mode, letting the familiar rhythm of a medical environment ground me.
It’s been less than twenty-four hours since Henry reinforced my home security, but it feels like a lifetime ago. Probably because every other person I’ve met today has mentioned his name.
“Good morning, Dr. Carter,” a nurse says brightly. “Or should I say, Mrs. Walker?”
I nearly trip over my own feet.
She giggles. “Sorry, couldn’t resist. The whole town’s talking about you two.”
Of course they are. One public kiss and I’ve apparently been branded as Henry Walker’s future wife.
I plaster on a smile, pretending that I haven’t thought about that kiss a thousand times. “Well, small towns, right?”
The nurse winks. “Don’t worry, it’s all good things.”
Somehow, I doubt that.
Mayor Logan strolls beside me, hands in his pockets as he guides me through the different hospital wings.
“I appreciate you being here, Emily,” he says sincerely. “We’ve been struggling to keep up with the growing demands. Not enough hands, not enough resources.”
“I’m happy to help,” I reply. “Emergency care is my specialty.”
He nods. “That’s what I was hoping you’d say.”
We stop by the nurses’ station, where I shake hands and exchange pleasantries. People are warm, welcoming, and insanely curious about my personal life.
“So, when’s the big day?” one of the receptionists asks, grinning.
I cough, stalling. “Still figuring that out.”
“Oh, you know men,” Logan interjects smoothly. “Henry’s always been the silent type.”
Silent? That’s an understatement.
Logan chuckles, probably sensing my thoughts. “But he’s a good guy. Stubborn as hell, though.”
Yeah, tell me something I don’t know.
Before I can respond, a familiar voice calls out—
“Dr. Carter, dear!”
I turn just in time to see trouble approaching in the form of Mrs. Everett and her ever-present partner-in-gossip, Mrs. Caldwell.
Logan mutters, “Brace yourself.”
I don’t have time to ask what he means before the two women reach me, smiling with all the enthusiasm of detectives about to solve a case.
“Such a pleasure to have you here,” Mrs. Everett says, grasping my hands. “Your grandmother was a dear friend, you know.”
Mrs. Caldwell nods. “Oh, yes, such a strong, spirited woman.”
I smile. “She really was.”
Mrs. Everett sighs dramatically. “And now you are here! And engaged to Henry Walker, of all people.”
Here we go.
I clear my throat. “Well, you know… life is full of surprises.”
Mrs. Caldwell leans in conspiratorially. “We always wondered who would finally tame that boy. He’s been quite the wild one since he was young, always getting into trouble.”
I force a laugh. “Henry? Troublemaker? No way.”
Mrs. Everett wags a finger. “Don’t let that quiet demeanor fool you, dear. That boy has been a storm since the day his parents passed.”
I glance at Logan, who offers a half-smile but doesn’t intervene.
I need an escape.
And, as if the universe is listening, salvation arrives in the form of a tall, impeccably dressed woman striding into the room.
Logan straightens. “Ladies, allow me to introduce my wife—”
Before he can finish, the woman smiles at me and says, “Oh, we don’t need introductions. I’m Sarah. Henry’s sister.”
My stomach drops.
Sarah Walker.
The woman is gorgeous—high cheekbones, sharp hazel eyes, and an aura of confidence that practically demands attention. She’s got the polished look of a woman who gets things done, and I immediately feel like I’m about to be interrogated.
“Emily,” she says smoothly, stepping closer. “We need to talk.”
I barely get a word out before she loops her arm through mine and steers me down the hallway.
Sarah walks fast.
Too fast.
“Um,” I manage, trying to keep up, “where exactly are we—?”
She waves a hand. “Just a little private chat.”
Oh, God.
She finally stops near an empty hallway, crossing her arms as she examines me.
“So,” she says. “Tell me. How exactly did you and my brother meet?”
I should be prepared for this.
I should have rehearsed.
But Sarah Walker is staring at me like she can smell a lie, and suddenly, my brain is a blank slate.
“Well,” I start, stalling. “It’s… a funny story.”
She lifts a brow. “I bet it is.”
I swallow. “We, uh, met in—”
Before I can fully dig myself into a hole, another voice cuts in.
“Sarah.”
Henry. I don’t know if I’ve ever been happier to see him.
Sarah smirks, turning to face him. “Oh, look. The groom arrives.”
Henry’s jaw tightens. “Leave her alone.”
She scoffs. “I was just getting to know my future sister-in-law.”
Henry glares.
Sarah sighs, throwing up her hands. “Fine, fine.”
I exhale in relief.
We walk back toward the main area, where Logan is giving a very dramatic speech about my arrival.
“…and Dr. Carter will be working to improve our emergency response training, ensuring that Harmony Springs remains a safe and prepared community,” he announces.
The small crowd claps, and I offer a smile.
As Logan finishes, people start approaching with names of those interested in first responder training.
Sarah, standing beside me, nudges my arm. “You know, Henry has the skill set for this.”
My ears perk up. “Really?”
She nods. “He started as an IDC. He’d be perfect.”
I glance at Henry. “Well? What do you think?”
His jaw tightens.
“No.”
And then, without another word, he turns on his heel and walks out.
The tension is instant. I want to follow him, but Sarah stops me with a hand on my arm.
“Let him go,” she says softly.
I frown. “Why?”
She hesitates. Then, quietly, she asks, “How much do you actually know about my brother?”
I blink. “I—”
Sarah exhales. “Henry isn’t like other people, Emily. He doesn’t fit into things the way everyone else does. He spent years being shaped into a soldier, and now that he’s back…” She shakes her head. “He’s still trying to figure out how to be a person again.”
A lump forms in my throat.
“He has PTSD, doesn’t he?” I ask softly.
Sarah nods. “And he doesn’t talk about it.”
I glance at the door Henry walked out of. My chest tightens.
Sarah studies my face. “I don’t understand your relationship, but if you’re going to be in his life, please understand what you’re stepping into.”
I don’t know what to say. Henry Walker was already complicated.
But now?
Now he’s so much more than I thought.