Chapter 16
CHAPTER 16
C hance
“Emery?” I ask as I enter Chael’s home where a few of our pack have started to gather for a late lunch.
“She went back home to take a nap,” Ms. Elsie answers.
I don’t miss the way she says “home.” As if my house is Emery’s as well.
“Poor thing,” Ms. Elsie continues as she peers up at me. “She ate well this morning, but she gets tired easily. As if her time is coming.”
I swallow and turn my head away from Ms. Elsie as well. It’s been a week since I arrived home with Emery. I’ve noticed the change as well. She gets hungry often, more than usual, according to her. And she frequently needs to take afternoon naps. Both are early signs that one’s first shift is inevitable.
I suspect she’s in denial about what’s coming. Especially since we’re still waiting on the test results from Dr. Drake. Emery had wanted to return to New York to check on Ashley, but I convinced her to stay with us at least until we get the results back from Dr. Drake
“You aren’t having lunch with us?” Ms. Elsie asks as she grabs my arm, stopping my leaving.
I hadn’t even realized I started for the door as I thought about Emery. “I need to speak with her.”
Ms. Elsie’s smile widens along with that mischievous twinkle in her eyes. “Wait, I’ve made extra.” She retrieves a couple of bowls with lids on them from the counter. “There’s extra rice, and sausage with peppers for you and some roasted potatoes for Emery. She enjoyed the ones I made last night.”
Pride fills her grin.
I don’t know why, but I lean down and press a kiss to Ms. Elsie’s cheek. She laughs and shews me out of the door. It takes me less than ten minutes to reach home.
As soon as I enter, I sniff the air. My wolf growls inside of my chest from Emery’s scent. An unidentified feeling stirs in my abdomen. That’s been happening more and more lately whenever I know she’s close.
After placing the food on the counter, I head to the bedroom to find Emery lying in bed. I stand over her, watching the light rise and fall of her chest.
One…two…three…four
“Oh.” Emery suddenly startles awake.
It’s only then I realize not only have I stooped beside the bed to watch her sleep, but I started counting her eyelashes. I don’t fucking notice people’s eyelashes. But Emery’s are long and full. Long enough that they brush the tops of her cheeks when her eyes are closed.
“You’re back,” she says, bringing me back to the present.
I nod as I rise to stand. “The job didn’t take as long as I thought.” I went out earlier to check on one of our local construction sites to make sure all was in order.
“I also spoke with Dr. Drake. He thinks he’ll have the blood test results ready in a few days,” I tell her. I don’t tell Emery that Dr. Drake mentioned finding some abnormalities that he couldn’t explain in her blood, which is the reason the results are taking so long.
“Ms. Elsie sent more food, if you’re hungry,” I tell her as I step away from the bed. Even though I move away, I can’t take my eyes off of her. Most of her body is covered by the light gray blanket, but her top half is only covered in a white, spaghetti strap T-shirt.
All I can think of is how perfect she looks in my bed.
“She’s so sweet,” Emery says with a smile. “I should’ve stayed to help everyone prepare lunch. I feel like all I’ve been doing is eating and sleeping. It’s almost like I’m preg?—”
Our eyes lock.
She doesn’t finish the last word, but she doesn’t need to for my mind to start conjuring up images of her belly swollen. That makes my wolf rise to his feet, whining like a fucking simp.
I clear my throat and run my hand through my hair. A stream of dust suddenly falls from my braided ponytail. I remember how dusty it was at the construction site.
“I’m going to go clean up,” I tell Emery, both because I need to and because standing here with her in my bed is leading me to want to keep her there. It’s bad enough I’ve spent every night with her wrapped in my arms.
I turn away from Emery to start for the front door, but just as I make it halfway down the hallway, a tug on my arm stops me.
I turn to face Emery to see her giving me a curious look.
“I thought you were going to clean up?” She gestures toward the bathroom.
My Adam’s apple bobs up and down as I swallow. While I have a shower and decent size bathroom, I prefer to clean up in the river just outside of our commune’s boundary.
“I need to wash my hair. I usually do that in the river.”
Emery bites her lower lip, looking too damn sexy, I have to stifle my groan. Yeah, I definitely need to get out of here. Not for the first time, I’m realizing just how small my home is.
“Can I come?”
“What?” I have to ask her to repeat because I’m not sure I’ve read her lips correctly.
“With you? I’d like to go to the river with you. Unless, you want to be alone.” She holds up her hand and shakes her head. “No, what was I thinking? You said you needed to wash up, which probably means…”
Her words trail off but her eyes slowly move up and down the length of my body. Without another thought, I take her hand in mine and stride toward the door. With my free hand I grab a T-shirt and pair of jeans and towel I keep on the shelf by the front door.
I stop long enough to allow Emery to slip into the pair of shoes she keeps by the door and then we head to the river.
It’s only about a five-minute walk from my house since I’m positioned a bit of a ways away from the center of our commune.
“I didn’t mean to bother you,” Emery says as I release her hand by the bank of the river.
A smile I can’t help springs free on my lips. “If you were a bother, I wouldn’t have brought you. Besides…” I pause as I lift my shirt over my head.
“I like having you around,” I admit.
Emery’s eyebrows raise for a beat before a smile touches her lips. “I enjoy being around you,” she says as I stare at her lips.
“I don’t know what’s come over me the past few days with all of the sleeping and eating, though. I wonder if Dr. Drake will write me the prescription for my iron pills. It’s been over a week now since I’ve had them. That may be why I’ve been so tired and hungry lately.”
She looks at me with a lifted eyebrow as if to ask my opinion.
I withhold my true thoughts.
“Could be,” I say.
A moment of stillness lingers between us. Emery looks out at the crystal clear water of the river. From her profile I see a smile crest on her beautiful face.
“I’d love to wash up here every day,” she says, looking back at me.
“I do,” I reply without thinking.
Her forehead wrinkles in confusion. “You do? I thought you shower at the house.”
Since she’s come to stay with me, I shower at home most days. It’s because ever since she’s come to stay with me, I don’t mind being inside so much.
“I use both.”
I move away from her, going to the large boulder I typically sit on. Beside it, is my tin where I keep a bar of soap and a bar of shampoo, both made by one of our pack members.
Emery watches me as I strip out of my jeans, down to my boxers. She remains silent as she watches me but the moment I take a step toward the river, she holds out an arm.
“Are you going to wash your hair?” Her gaze roams over the hair that hangs over my shoulders.
I nod.
“Can I?”
My head juts back in surprise. “What?”
I think she’s going to negate what she just asked. She surprises me, though, when she asks again.
“Ms. Elsie was telling me that the Apache hair care is very important. She said, you all used to have hair cutting ceremonies once a year in the spring to usher in the new weather. But otherwise, it was forbidden to cut your hair.”
I nod, knowing the history of the importance of our hair.
“I mean, it’s probably just the anthropologist in me, but… can I wash your hair?”
The only reason I made her ask a second time was because I was certain she blurted it out without thinking. But that’s not the case at all.
She’s asking to engage in one of our pack’s and our culture’s oldest traditions.
Mate!
My fucking wolf. And just like every other time over the past week when he starts in on his mate bullshit, I don’t have the energy to tamp down on his claim.
Wordlessly, I stick out my palm to hand Emery the bar of shampoo. The sparkle that enters her eyes as she takes it from me, makes my decision more than worth it.
“You’re going to need to get in, if you’re going to wash my hair,” I tell her, looking her up and down in the jeans and the thin white tee she’s still wearing.
Deciding I don’t want her to rethink her decision, I stride over and immediately unbutton her jeans. The little ‘O’ her mouth makes followed by the puff of air, leads me to conclude that she’s gasped.
I don’t stop, however. Not until I’ve slid her jeans down to her ankles and removed both her shoes and jeans. She’s left in a pair of lace panties and the white camisole and bra. I’m tempted to remove the rest of her clothing, but Emery’s weary look around stops me.
“We’re alone,” I assure her.
I lead her by the hand to the river. She tenses and squeezes my hand from the coolness of the water, but she soon relaxes.
“I need you to dunk your head in the water,” she tells me.
My lips twitch as I allow her to lean my body back so that my entire head submerges under the water. She moves behind me, finding a stoney part of the river where she can stand so that she’s slightly elevated behind me.
Emery begins to lather the shampoo bar in my hair.
My eyelids fall closed on their own accord. It’s been years, no, more than a half a century since I’ve let anyone touch me like this. My mother was the only person who ever washed my hair. And that was only up until I lost my hearing.
A deep exhale moves up my chest and releases out of my nose when Emery’s fingers begin massaging my scalp.
Memories of my mother doing the same thing when I was a little boy dance around in my mind. When Emery rakes her fingers down the entire length of my hair a shudder rushes through me.
My mother would tell me that our people believed we kept our stories in our hair. Hair holds our memories.
Memories are also where our love is stored.
For the first time in decades, I recall the sound of my mother’s voice.
And then a deep longing to hear Emery’s voice overcomes me. I want to be able to commit her voice to memory as well. For the time when she’s not this fucking close to me.
My wolf growls in my chest at that absurd thought. The idea of her not being within arms’ reach is inconceivable to him.
A sudden tap on my shoulder causes me to turn to look at her.
“I need to rinse your hair.” She juts her chin toward the water.
Again, I duck my head under the cool, refreshing water of the river, rinsing the shampoo and washing it away.
“Your towel,” she says, pointing toward the river’s edge where I left the towel.
I take her hand but she’s the one who leads us back to the boulder.
“Sit, I’ll dry you.”
I do as told because I like the feel of her hands in my hair. I like her being this close to me. I want her to always be this damn close.
Want.
That fucking word.
A word I’ve worked so hard to stay away from ever since I lost my hearing. A word I refused to associate with myself.
Wanting was something others did. Not me.
Yet, as I sit on the boulder, Emery running the towel down the length of my hair, I know what it is to want something so much it feels like I can’t fucking breath without it.
One moment, I have this thought and the next Emery’s in my lap, my arms locked tightly around her.
Her bulging eyes and stunned expression let me know I’ve taken her by surprise. She searches my gaze, obviously wanting to know what’s gotten into me.
I don’t have the range of vocabulary to answer the question in her eyes.
“I want you,” is what I tell her, as I run a hand down the side of her face.
I pull her into my chest, bury my face into the crook of her neck and inhale. This is the moment I realize I’m in trouble.
My want for Emery is greater than anything I’ve ever experienced.
And how does a man who has never wanted anything, want the one thing he can never have?