23. Emily
Emily
The metallic scent of blood fills the emergency ward, thick and overwhelming. My gloved hands press firmly against the gaping wound on the man’s abdomen, and I feel his labored breath as he groans beneath my touch.
"Stay with me," I murmur, flicking my gaze to the heart monitor. The erratic beeping keeps pace with the tension in my chest. "Nurse Peggy, hand me the clamp. Now."
Peggy shoves the instrument into my outstretched hand, still talking at full speed.
"You know, first there was that old lady’s house getting burglarized, then the break-in at the gas station, and now we’ve got this poor guy lying on our table with a stab wound.
I swear, doc, it’s like big city crime is creeping into our little town. "
The scalpel glides through skin with practiced precision, the rhythm of the procedure a familiar comfort.
“Peggy,” I say, keeping my focus on controlling the bleeding, “I love you, I really do, but if you don’t stop talking, I might accidentally stitch your mouth shut instead of this guy’s stomach. ”
Peggy gasps, feigning deep offense. “Well! I never—”
“Shush and focus, Peggy," I mutter, clamping down on a severed vessel. Blood oozes around the metal, dark and sluggish. "He’s losing too much blood. Start another IV—fast."
Peggy huffs but follows my orders, still rambling. "I’m just saying, doc. You don’t think it’s weird? Everything’s been kinda peaceful until recently. And now? All this?"
I don’t answer. I can’t. My concentration narrows to the wound in front of me. The world outside of this sterile white room doesn’t exist. Not the town. Not the crime. Not him.
Not Henry.
Thirty minutes later, the patient is stable. The adrenaline drains from my body, leaving me exhausted and lightheaded. I pull off my gloves, tossing them into the bin with a sigh.
Peggy watches me closely, arms crossed. "Doc, when was the last time you slept?"
I shake my head. "I’m fine, Peggy."
"No, you ain’t," she counters. "You’ve been here for two straight days, picking up shifts, running yourself into the ground." She tilts her head. "This about Henry Walker?"
I freeze.
Her voice softens. "Word around town is you two have been... off."
I turn on her, my patience wearing thin. "Peggy, I swear—"
"Okay, okay!" She lifts her hands in surrender, backing away. "I’m just saying. People are talking, and you ain’t doing much to prove them wrong."
She walks off before I can snap back, and I collapse into the nearest chair in my office, rubbing my temples.
She’s not wrong.
Henry hasn’t been home in days. Or rather, he has—but only in the way a ghost haunts a place. He sleeps in his truck outside, never coming in, never saying a word.
And it’s killing me.
I miss him.
I miss his presence. His sharp wit. The way he looks at me like I’m something worth protecting.
Twice now, I’ve called him in the middle of the night. Twice, I hung up before he answered.
I grip my phone now, hovering over his name, my thumb twitching toward the call button.
Before I can press it, my phone rings.
I nearly drop it, my heart lurching into my throat.
But it’s not Henry. The gruff baritone that comes across on the speaker belongs to Detective Grant.
"Emily," his voice comes through, low and steady. "It’s over."
I blink. "What?"
"The Black Talon ringleaders were taken down in a sting last night. We got them."
I sit up straight, gripping the phone tighter. "You’re sure?"
"Positive. You’re safe now."
The words should bring me relief. But instead, my stomach twists into knots.
Because safe means I don’t need protection anymore. Safe means Henry has no reason to stay.
And Henry leaving means—
I shake the thought away. I can’t think about that now.
Staggering to my feet abruptly, my fingers grab my bag. "I’m off duty, Peggy," I announce, ignoring her surprised expression as I head for the door.
I need to get out of here.
Maggie’s Café is bustling when I arrive, but I barely notice the noise. My mind is spinning, my heart pounding against my ribs like a trapped bird.
I push inside, searching for a distraction, for something to ground me.
Then I see Chief Tom in a corner with a bald man. The man doesn’t look like a local, and the man looks around in a frenzied state as if he’s been spooked about something.
It was then I saw the man flanking Chief Tom.
Henry.
Just calmly sitting there in the corner like all is right in his world.
My feet stop working.
My breath catches.
What the hell is going on?
Before I can move, a voice pipes up beside me.
"Did you break up with my uncle?"
I turn sharply to find Grace standing there, her arms crossed, her face scrunched up in concern.
"What?" I blink. "Why would you think that?"
She huffs. "Because Uncle Henry is sad."
The words hit like a punch to the gut.
"Grace, I—"
"You like him, don’t you?" she presses.
I hesitate, then sigh. "Of course I do."
Grace tilts her head. "Then fix it."
My chest tightens. "It’s not that simple."
"Adults make everything complicated," she mutters, rolling her eyes. Then, without another word, she walks off, leaving me standing there, speechless.
Before I can fully process what just happened, Henry’s eyes meet mine.
For a moment, neither of us moves.
Then he stands, heading toward me.
I’m frozen in place.
He stops in front of me, his blue eyes unreadable.
"You okay?" His voice is rough, low.
I swallow. "What are you doing here?"
He shifts slightly. "My job."
The words are a knife to my chest. My job. Not for you. Not with you. Just a duty, nothing more.
I steel myself, forcing the lump in my throat down. "You don’t have to do that anymore," I say, my voice colder than I intend. "Grant called. The ringleaders are locked up. I’m safe now."
Something flickers in his expression, but it’s gone before I can name it.
"You can go back to your real life, Henry," I continue, my voice breaking slightly.
His jaw tightens.
I force a smile. "You don’t have to worry about me anymore."
And then, before he can say anything, before he can shatter the fragile wall I’ve built around my heart, I turn, push open the café door and run outside.
The moment I step outside Maggie’s café, the air bites at my skin, but it’s nothing compared to the ache in my chest. My hands shake as I fumble for my car keys. My vision is blurred by unshed tears, my breath coming in short gasps.
I yank open the car door and slide into the driver’s seat, slamming it shut behind me. The silence inside feels suffocating, heavy with everything I’m trying to suppress. My fingers grip the steering wheel, knuckles white.
What did I expect?
That Henry would suddenly realize he wants me? That he’d drop everything—his pain, his duty, his ghosts—for me?
I press my forehead against the steering wheel, squeezing my eyes shut. A choked sob escapes my lips before I can stop it. I dig my nails into my palms, trying to ground myself, trying not to feel this ache that threatens to shatter me.
A knock on the window startles me.
I glance up to see Maggie standing outside, her arms crossed, her expression knowing.
Quickly wiping my eyes, I try to smile at her, but she’s not fooled.
"Open the door, Em," she calls through the glass.
I shake my head, staring forward. "Not now, Maggie."
“Emily, open the damn door.” Her arms are crossed, eyes narrowed like she’s seconds away from hot wiring my car just to drag me out.
I sniff and wipe at my face. “Go away.”
“Nope.”
“I’m busy.”
She leans against the window and taps on it, deadpan. “You’re sulking in a parking lot.”
“I’m thinking in a parking lot,” I correct, lifting my chin.
“Yeah? What are you thinking about?”
“How to drive away from this town at maximum speed without breaking any major traffic laws.”
Maggie scoffs. “God, you’re dramatic.”
She tugs at the handle, but the door is locked. I watch her expectantly, waiting for her to give up, but she simply raises a brow.
“Either you unlock this door,” she says, voice laced with warning, “or I stand here knocking until we both die of old age.”
I groan and press the button to unlock the doors.
Maggie wastes no time sliding into the passenger seat, settling in like she’s just walked into a spa. “So, wanna tell me why you’re having an existential crisis?”
I cross my arms and stare out the windshield. “No.”
Maggie sighs, tipping her head back against the seat. “Okay. Then let me guess. You saw Henry. He said something stupid. You said something equally stupid. And now you’re in here, spiraling.”
I snap my head toward her. “That’s—”
“Exactly what happened?”
I deflate.
Maggie smirks. “Thought so.”
There’s a long pause. My throat burns, but I swallow down the lump forming there. “It’s over,” I whisper. “Whatever we had—it wasn’t even real.”
Maggie turns to fully face me, studying my expression. “That’s a load of crap.”
I let out a humorless laugh. “It’s not, though.”
She shakes her head. “You know he loves you, right?”
I bark out a laugh, because the idea is so ridiculous it actually hurts. “No, he doesn’t.”
Maggie gives me a knowing look. “He just doesn’t know how to show it.”
I scoff, turning away from her. But I can’t shake the memory of the way Henry looked at me earlier—like I was something worth fighting for. Like I was something more.
My fingers tighten around my lap. “It doesn’t matter.”
“Why not?”
“Because he’s leaving, Maggie!” I snap, finally turning toward her. “Because he wants to leave. Because he put in for deployment before he even knew if I’d be okay, before I even got a say in any of this. What kind of love is that?”
Maggie goes quiet, watching me with eyes that are too knowing, too patient.
I wipe at my face again, my breath shaky. “I miss him,” I admit, voice barely above a whisper. “But I can’t keep doing this. He’ll always choose his wars over me. And I—I don’t have the right to tell him not to.”
Maggie lets out a slow sigh. “Emily, I love you. But you are the most stubborn person I’ve ever met.”
I sniff. “You’re one to talk.”
Maggie smirks. “True.”
A long silence settles between us before she gently nudges my shoulder. “Listen, I know you’re scared. But you’re also in love with him. And that means you have two choices. You either run like a coward, or you fight for him.”
I let her words sink in, but the weight on my chest doesn’t ease.
She reaches for the handle. “Think about it.”
I nod, exhaling slowly. “Thanks, Mags.”
She smirks. “You can make it up to me by buying me coffee later.”
I laugh weakly as she slides out of the car, and for a moment, I sit there, staring at my steering wheel, trying to breathe through the ache in my chest.
Then, I pull out of the parking lot and head back to work.
Later that night, after my shift ends, I sit in my car for a long moment before making a decision. I need to talk to someone.
Not Henry. Not yet.
I call Chief Tom.
He answers on the second ring. "Emily."
"Hi, Chief," I say, my voice tight. "Can we meet?"
"Of course. Where?"
"Rocker’s Café?"
"Give me fifteen minutes."
When I arrive, the café is quiet, the late evening hush settling over the town like a heavy blanket. Chief Tom is already waiting for me, his sharp eyes assessing me as I slide into the seat across from him.
"You look tired," he comments.
I huff a laugh. "I am."
"Henry’s keeping you up?" he asks knowingly.
I sigh. "Something like that."
He nods, as if he’s been expecting this. "What’s on your mind, Emily?"
I take a deep breath. "Detective Grant called. He said the Black Talon ringleaders have been taken down. It’s... over."
Tom studies me carefully. "And that means you can go back to New York."
I nod. "Yeah."
He leans back, folding his arms. "So, are you?"
The question settles between us, heavy and suffocating.
I hesitate, then finally exhale. "I don’t know."
Chief Tom watches me with quiet patience, waiting.
I swallow. "I just... I wanted to thank you. For everything. And for trusting Henry to keep me safe."
Tom’s gaze sharpens slightly. "Henry didn’t just keep you safe, Emily. He kept himself together because of you."
My chest tightens. "He doesn’t need me, Chief."
Tom raises an eyebrow. "Doesn’t he?"
I shake my head. "He’s leaving. He’s always been planning to leave."
Tom sighs, rubbing his jaw. "Henry’s been a soldier longer than he’s been anything else, Emily. He’s lost a lot. And yeah, maybe running is all he knows. But I think, for the first time, he’s questioning that because of you."
My throat closes up. "Then why won’t he say it?"
Tom gives me a small smile. "Because love doesn’t come easy to men like Henry. But that doesn’t mean it’s not there."
I exhale shakily, gripping the table. "I can’t be the one to beg him to stay, Chief. He has to want it."
Tom nods. "I know."
We sit in silence for a while before I finally stand. "Thank you, Chief. For everything."
Tom inclines his head. "Whatever you decide, Emily... make sure it’s what you want."
I nod, turning to leave.
As I walk to my car, I tell myself I should feel lighter, relieved.
Instead, I feel hollow.
Because tomorrow, I’ll start packing.
And maybe that’s how it was always meant to be.