11. Emily
Emily
Somewhere between stitching up a construction worker’s gashed forehead and convincing an elderly patient that no, Mr. Thompson, you do not have an undiscovered third kidney, my brain calls it quits.
Which is how I find myself clocking out of the hospital before I get dragged into another crisis and heading straight to Maggie’s café—because nothing soothes a fried brain quite like coffee, sarcasm, and my friend’s ability to make every situation feel like a very entertaining crime documentary.
The place is still a mess. The scent of burnt wood lingers in the air, mixing with fresh sawdust and the sharp tang of paint. Half the café looks like it survived an apocalypse, while the other half—where Maggie is currently leaning against the counter with a clipboard—looks as pristine as ever.
She spots me the second I step inside. “If you’re not carrying a bottle of whiskey in that bag, you better have coffee-related intentions.”
I hold up my hands in mock surrender. “Just here to check on my favorite arson suspect.”
Maggie snorts. “That’s funny, because I was just thinking how this fire was the perfect excuse to finally remodel.”
I narrow my eyes. “You didn’t—”
She gasps dramatically. “Emily Carter! Are you accusing me of insurance fraud?”
“You did just call it the perfect excuse.”
Maggie grins, leaning in like she’s about to tell me the town’s deepest, darkest secret. “I might have thought about it once or twice.”
I shake my head, laughing. “You know any cop who hears that would immediately launch an investigation?”
She shrugs. “Well, lucky for me, my café is currently Harmony Springs’ favorite spot, all thanks to our local hero.”
Ah.
There it is.
The thing I’ve been dreading.
Maggie props a hand on her hip, smirking. “So. Henry Walker. Tell me, how does it feel being engaged to the most beloved man in town?”
I groan. “Oh, please—”
“No, really! People have been gushing about him all week. ‘Oh, Henry’s such a hero.’ ‘Oh, Henry’s so brave.’” She leans in, wiggling her brows. “Oh, Henry is so brooding and mysterious—”
I point a finger at her. “You need better hobbies.”
Maggie just grins, strolling behind the counter and pouring two cups of coffee. “I’ll stop when it stops being hilarious.”
I sigh, accepting the coffee she slides my way. “You’re enjoying this too much.”
“Absolutely.”
Before I can argue, my phone buzzes.
Unknown number. Again. And this is for the fourth time today. I frown, flipping it over and ignoring it.
Maggie eyes me. “That your fiancé?”
I roll my eyes. “No.”
She waggles her brows. “He should be calling. You two have been looking awfully close these days.”
I sip my coffee. “Maybe seeing him as the fire hero made me appreciate him more.”
Maggie gasps. “Was that… sentiment? From Emily Carter?”
I groan, rubbing my temples. “I regret coming here.”
Maggie laughs, clinking her cup against mine. “Too late now.”
We’re still laughing when Grace materializes out of nowhere, bouncing on the balls of her feet.
“Emily!” she chirps, flashing me her usual bright grin. “Perfect timing.”
I arch a brow. “For what, exactly?”
Grace throws a pointed look at Maggie.
Maggie groans. “Oh, hell.”
“What?” I look between them.
Grace clasps her hands together dramatically. “So, we were supposed to do a grocery run today, but Maggie here is stuck babysitting the construction crew, and I still need to pick up supplies.”
Maggie sighs. “I was going to drive her, but I can’t leave, and apparently, none of my trusted employees are competent enough to count milk cartons.”
Grace pouts. “Maggie, I’m right here.”
Maggie waves her off. “Exactly.”
I smirk. “So what you’re saying is…”
“You love me so much that you’re going to take my favorite employee to the store,” Maggie finishes sweetly.
I exhale through my nose. “Why do I feel like I was tricked into this?”
Grace beams. “Because you were.”
I groan, finishing my coffee. “Fine. But only because I need something to do before I end up back at the hospital.”
Maggie grins. “You mean before Henry notices you’re unsupervised?”
I shoot her a look. “You really need new hobbies.”
She just winks and after shaking my head at her, Grace and I step outside, the late afternoon sun casting golden light over the street.
She looks up at me, grinning. “You know, before you came to Harmony Springs, Maggie said you never had time for stuff like this.”
I snort. “Yeah, well, Manhattan ERs don’t exactly allow for grocery runs in the middle of the day.”
“Are there that many emergencies?”
“Oh, so many,” I groan, unlocking my car. “People in the city injure themselves in the stupidest ways possible. I once had to treat a guy who got stabbed with his own fork during a dinner argument.”
Grace blinks. “That’s… impressive?”
“No. It was tragic.”
She giggles, sliding into the passenger seat.
As I start the car, she watches me curiously. “So… Do you like it better here?”
I hesitate, fingers tightening around the wheel.
I’m not used to this. Having time. Having breaks. Having people around who actually care. It’s unsettling. But then I think about Henry. About how safe I feel with him.
About how, for the first time in a long time, I don’t feel like I have to keep running.
I clear my throat, shrugging. “It’s… different.”
Grace smirks. “That’s not a no.”
I groan. “I regret agreeing to this.”
She giggles, buckling her seatbelt. “Too late now.”
As we pull onto the main road, I catch sight of my phone lighting up again.
The same unknown number. A strange, uneasy feeling slithers through my stomach. But I shake it off, pushing the car forward. Because right now, I’m choosing not to think about it.
The sun dips lower in the sky as I drive Grace toward the grocery store, the golden light casting long shadows along the road. The windows are down, the late afternoon breeze curling through my hair, and for the first time in what feels like forever, I feel calm.
Grace is now humming along to the song playing softly on the radio, then turns to me with a sly grin. “You know, I never thought I’d see the day my uncle becomes really sweet on someone.”
I raise a brow, smirking. “Is that what we have?”
She shrugs. “I mean, it looks like one. You two are basically attached at this point.”
I roll my eyes, but I can’t help the warmth that spreads in my chest. “Henry and I… it’s complicated.”
Grace snorts. “Everything with him is complicated.”
I chuckle. “That obvious, huh?”
She sighs dramatically. “Uncle Henry has been the most complicated human since I was a kid. But… he’s better now.”
I glance at her, interest piqued. “Better how?”
Grace shifts in her seat, tucking her legs beneath her. “After he returned, it was like… I don’t know, like part of him died. He came back, but he wasn’t really here. He’d just go through the motions—wake up, workout, eat, avoid people, repeat.”
A pang of sympathy tugs at me. I’ve seen that in him—the way he carries himself like he’s still on a battlefield, still fighting a war that refuses to end.
Grace exhales. “He lost someone important on a mission. I don’t know the person—he won’t tell me even when I asked, but I know it’s someone who meant a lot to him. And when he came home, he just shut down. Wouldn’t talk about it, or anything, wouldn’t let anyone help him.”
My grip on the steering wheel tightens. “That must’ve been hard on your family.”
She nods. “Especially Sarah. She tried to get through to him. But Henry… he doesn’t do feelings. He does duty. Responsibility. Taking care of everyone but himself.”
One glance at her and something about her tone is making my stomach twist. “And now?”
She smiles softly. “Now, he smiles more. Since you came into town, he’s been… lighter.”
Inhaling slowly, my heart stutters at the weight of her words.
Could I really be the reason Henry Walker is starting to live again? And why does the thought of that terrify me as much as it thrills me?
Ignoring the thoughts in my head, we pull into the grocery store parking lot, and Grace unbuckles her seatbelt, grinning. “Thanks for driving me, Emily.”
“Don’t mention it.”
She hesitates, then tilts her head. “We’re friends now, right?”
The question catches me off guard.
My lips spread in a little smile, followed with a nod. “Yeah. I think we are.”
Grace beams. “Good. Don’t tell my Uncle what I told you please. I did it because I trust you.”
I laugh. “That sounds like an honor.”
She grins, then grabs her bag. “See you later, future auntie.”
I shake my head as she hops out of the car, disappearing into the store. Just as I shift into reverse, my phone buzzes. The same unknown number. Again. I sigh, debating whether to ignore it again—but something tells me I should answer this time.
I hit accept. “Hello?”
Silence for a beat.
Then—
“Emily.”
I freeze.
That voice. I know that voice.
“Dane?” I say, my grip tightening around the wheel.
“Yeah,” he says, his tone carefully controlled. “Didn’t think you’d pick up.”
I swallow hard. “I shouldn’t have.”
He exhales. “Look, I saw your text.”
Shame washes over me. That stupid, impulsive text I never should’ve sent.
“I—”
“I know you’re mad at me,” he continues. “But I miss you, Em. I just… I want to fix things.”
I shake my head, my pulse kicking up. “Dane, there’s nothing to fix.”
“Come on,” he presses. “We were good together.”
Were we?
I stare at the dashboard, my mind racing. Dane was safe, predictable. A man who fit into the life I’d built so carefully. But did he ever make my pulse race the way Henry does? Did he ever make me feel seen?
No.
Not once.
“Dane, this was a mistake,” I say, my voice firm. “That text? It meant nothing.”
“Emily—”
“I don’t want you in my life,” I cut him off, my voice stronger than I expect. “Please, don’t call me again.”
“Fine.” Dane’s baritone barks across the speaker and the call ends.
I drop my phone onto the passenger seat, exhaling sharply.
What the hell was I thinking texting him? It’s starting to quickly dawn on me that Dane Jacobs was never the one. And the fact that I even considered texting him was a mistake. Because there’s only one man I want to see right now.
Instead of heading back to the hospital, I turn the car around and drive home.
To him.
Because these past few days—waking up to him, being with him—have made me realize something terrifying.
Henry isn’t just some temporary thing in my life anymore.
He’s become integral.
And that should scare me.
But all it does is make me want him more. When I pull into the driveway, I see him immediately.
Henry stands outside the cabin, chopping wood, sweat glistening on his brow. His shirt is long gone, tossed onto a nearby chair, and his muscles flex with every swing of the axe.
I grip the steering wheel tighter.
Oh.
I shouldn’t be watching him like this, but damn it, it’s impossible not to.
I step out of the car, clearing my throat. “Are you training for some lumberjack competition I don’t know about?”
Henry stops mid-swing, glancing at me. A slow smirk tugs at his lips. “Just keeping the firewood stocked.”
I raise a brow. “My grandmother really refused to get a modern fireplace, huh?”
He chuckles. “Said it’s ‘not the same.’”
I shake my head, watching as he wipes the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand.
“You just gonna stand there and stare, Carter?” he teases.
I roll my eyes. “Oh, please.”
His smirk deepens. “Mm-hmm.”
I sigh, pretending to be exasperated. “Get inside, Walker.”
His brow lifts. “Bossy tonight.”
I smirk. “You love it.”
He chuckles, tossing the axe down before following me inside. The second the door closes behind us, the tension shifts. The teasing fades and the air between us turns heavy.
Henry watches me, his expression unreadable.
I step closer. “I should be terrified, you know.”
He frowns slightly. “Of what?”
I exhale. “Of how much I want this. Want you.”
His jaw tightens. “Then why aren’t you?”
I swallow hard. “Because for the first time… I don’t think I want to fight it.”
Something flickers in his eyes—something dangerous.
Then, suddenly, he’s on me.
His hands cup my face, his lips crashing against mine, and I melt.
It’s not slow.
It’s not careful.
It’s reckless, desperate—like we’re both afraid of what we’re feeling but incapable of stopping. I clutch at his bare shoulders, pulling him closer. He groans against my mouth, his hands roaming down my back, gripping my hips.
I pull away just enough to whisper, “Henry.”
His forehead presses against mine. “Say it again.”
“Henry.”
His breath shudders as he groans, deep and low, hands gripping my waist like he’s starving for this. For me.
I don’t know what we are. Don’t know if this is temporary or something more. But right now, I just need him.
And judging by the way his lips find mine again, he needs me, too.