She tried to play Deadly Dungeon Duels with me, my newest video game, but she kept asking these existential questions, like, why dungeons, why not forests, and other dumb stuff. It was annoying, but it’s okay. About that time, my right hand stopped working, and I can’t do the controller with my left, so it didn’t really matter. Emma and I started watching TV.
Check it—one day, I’m in bed watching House of Cards on Netflix, and I’m on episode eight, and it’s totally intense, and who crawls onto the bed with me and lays there like we’re a couple? And I said, “People are going to talk. I hope you’re okay with that, because I sure as hell won’t deny anything happened since I have a reputation to protect.” She said, “I don’t care—let them talk. I have a reputation to protect, too.” Which is why I totally dig her.
But I said, “Well, look, Emma, this is okay as long as you don’t talk or disrupt the streaming video, and for God’s sake, don’t ask me questions during House of Cards.” She said she wouldn’t, so we started streaming videos together.
Luke told me it didn’t look good for me and Emma to be lolling on a bed in the afternoon streaming video from Netflix all afternoon. Personally, I think Luke is a little jealous because there was a time back in the day that chicks used to flock to him. Those days are over for sure, and even if they weren’t, Luke is going to marry Madeline on New Year’s Eve, and Madeline doesn’t strike me as the type to put up with “shenanigans,” as Dad would say.
During these afternoon video-viewing sessions, Emma’s done a little talking. She’s said things like, you don’t look at me like other guys. Which I pointed out was probably because I can’t turn my head. And then she would say this off-the-wall stuff that had nothing to do with the program, like, sometimes I wonder what it would be like to be someone else—do you? I can’t snort anymore, but if I could, I would have to that question. It’s not like I lie around wondering why me, why MND, but yeah, the idea of being someone else has definitely crossed my mind a time or two in the last couple of years.
She said some other stuff that I won’t share because I promised Dani Boxer I’d tell her everything first, and I haven’t had time to deliver the dirt. Anyway, I didn’t need my superior intellect to guess where this was all going, so one day, I casually say, “You know, Emma, I’m not going to live forever.” As in, not very long at all, but I didn’t say that, as it tends to freak people out.
As expected, she got all flustered and said, “Why do you say things like that?”
I said, “Because you need to get a grip—I can’t be your boo.”
She said, “You can’t be my what?”
And I had to sidetrack a little and explain to her the Real Housewives of Atlanta, but then I circled back around and said, “Look, I know you’re totally into me, and that’s okay. Lots of chicks are. And I don’t mind you hanging around at all. But you need to know that it isn’t really going to go anywhere, you and me.”
Emma smiled in this funny way that made me think maybe I’d hurt her feelings. But then she said, “Obviously I know that. You’re dying.”
Hey, even I was a little shocked by that. But at the same time, I really dug it, because at least Emma Tyler can say it out loud. At least Emma doesn’t pretend I’m going to somehow miraculously beat this thing and live. No one else around me can face it, much less say it. Only Emma and I can.
“Well, that’s kind of beside the point,” I said, because it was. “The point is that I’m just not that into you.”
She sort of averted her gaze and said, “You’re so funny, Leo.”
Yes, I am. But I wasn’t being funny then. And even though she pretended to think I was, I could tell she knew I wasn’t being funny. She got kind of quiet and wouldn’t say anything for a while, and then said she didn’t want to watch another episode of The Americans, so you know she was pissed.
She got up and left my room, and I could hear her talking to Dad for a long time, and he was probably spelling it out for her: Leo. Is. An. Ass.
Hey, I wear the mantle proudly.
But the next day Emma was back and she was her same old self, and I thought things were cool and we both knew where we stood. But I didn’t count on Hollywood showing up at my door. Isn’t that the beauty of this life? Just when you think there’s no hope, that things are going to be totally boring for the rest of your life, something pops up to make it interesting again.
FIVE
Emma knew Bob Kendrick didn’t trust her. He followed her around to double-check everything she did, from changing the sheets to making Leo’s protein smoothies. Once, he even leaned over her shoulder to make sure she was recording the right show for Leo.
That was okay, Emma understood. She wouldn’t trust her, either. She was accustomed to not being trusted—people seemed suspicious of her right away. Mostly women. They always eyed her as if they thought she was going to steal their husbands, which Emma chalked up to her looks. She didn’t consider herself conceited in that regard, but realistic. Why pretend?
That’s why she loved Leo so much. Emma had never met anyone like him. Not anyone with MND, but like him. She’d known from almost the moment they’d been introduced that Leo was similar to her because he called it as he saw it, too. He just had more finesse with his opinions. He wasn’t “socially awkward” as Emma’s stepfather always said of her. But like her, Leo was realistic; he knew he was going to die and didn’t hide behind useless hope or prayer or whatever it was that people did to keep from facing awful, irrevocable truths. And it was an awful truth, one that sometimes kept Emma awake at night. Yet she loved that Leo could look headlong at his reality. He was braver than anyone she had ever known.
Emma understood the rest of the world didn’t think like she and Leo did, and it didn’t bother her that men like Bob decided they distrusted her and then stuck there. So when Bob stepped into the kitchen and told her that some guy was looking for her, he looked almost gleeful about it, as if he’d finally been proven right—she was not to be trusted.
“I know,” she said, and dropped the tops of Leo’s drinking tubes into a pot of boiling water. What the hell was Cooper doing, following her here? Her pulse began to race again. She didn’t like this, being the prey. She was always the one to do the stalking. Not as blatantly as this—she never had to put much effort into it, really—but still.
Bob squinted at her, his eyes disappearing into folds of skin. “So who is he?”
Emma glanced up, hoping her face didn’t betray her. “Just a guy.”
“Just a guy doesn’t just show up in Pine River,” Bob gruffly pointed out.
Emma shrugged and turned back to her task.
“Well? Are you coming?” Bob demanded.
Before Emma could answer, she heard Cooper’s low voice in the living room, followed by Leo’s. “Nope,” Emma said, and reflexively hitched her shoulders, as if trying to shake off Cooper’s voice from her skin. “Not coming. I’ve already talked to him and I don’t have anything more to say. I have things to do.”
“No, no, no,” Bob groaned, and rubbed his forehead with both hands. “Jesus, please don’t do this here, Emma. Don’t bring your drama into my house and around my son.”
“My drama! You’re the one being overly dramatic,” she said as she removed the bottle tops from the boiling water and set them in a rack to dry.
“Oh, am I?” he said sarcastically. He leaned backward, glanced into the front room a moment. “You gotta come talk to him,” he almost whispered, presumably so Cooper wouldn’t hear him.
“No, I don’t.”
Bob glared at her with a Law and Order glint. He stepped closer—which took him across the tiny kitchen to the bar that separated him from Emma. “Just what are you hiding, girl?”
“Nothing,” she said, and ignored the tingling in the nape of her neck that said she was. “No law says I have to talk to every guy who comes to my door.”
>
“Maybe, but he came to my door. Who is he? What does he want? How the hell do I know this guy ain’t stalking you and looking for trouble?”
He had a point. Emma turned off the burner and faced Bob. “He’s a guy from LA. That’s all. He’s no one to me, I swear.” Jesus, another lie. For someone who always wore the truth as her shield of armor, that was two whoppers on the day. “As for why he’s here? I don’t really know. But he’s not violent.”
“You don’t know that,” Bob said.
The sound of Leo’s laughter wafted into the kitchen. “Yep, she’s got two eighty-five horsepower,” they heard Leo boast. “She’ll blow any car off the road.”
Bob rolled his eyes, as he often did when Leo talked about that van.
“That’s amazing,” came Cooper’s low, dulcet drawl.
“Is he an ex-lover or something?” Bob whispered loudly.
Emma snorted, as if that was as ridiculous as it was impossible. “No. You didn’t have to let him in, you know,” she said. “Most people see a stranger at their door and they don’t let them in. Did you think of that?”
“Thought he was a friend of yours,” Bob said, and stepped around the bar, squeezing past Emma to take a pan from the stove. “Listen, I don’t give a rat’s ass who he is.” He paused to dip down and look her right in the eye. “But I won’t have any drama around my boy. Got that?”
“Couldn’t miss it,” she said, leaning back from him. “Okay, okay, I’ll get rid of him. But in the future, if you don’t want drama, don’t let strangers into your house! Hello!”
Bob frowned at her.
“I’m just saying,” she muttered as she left the kitchen.
Leo was exactly where Emma had wheeled him a half hour ago—in his chair, his head propped up by two pads on either side of the headrest, his fingers unnaturally curled around a stick that Leo insisted kept them from closing up completely.
And there was Cooper Jessup, leaning up against the wall, his arms folded across his chest, long and lean and handsome. But it wasn’t that which held Emma’s interest. It had been Emma’s observation that when people first met Leo, they often looked purposely blank so as not to let on to all the thoughts swirling in their heads, such as, thank God, not me, and what is wrong with him, and what do I say. They tried very hard not to stare at Leo and his useless appendages and the apparatus that was necessary to keep him upright.
But Cooper was looking directly at Leo like he was another buddy he’d run into. Maybe he’d been shocked when he’d first walked in, but now he looked completely relaxed, as if he chatted with guys like Leo all the time. He also looked like a sexy motorcycle bandit with his jacket and boots and the shadow of a beard on his chin. As if he had a history as long as the road and the moves to prove it, and Emma felt that funny tingle slip down her spine.
Don’t do that, Emma. Don’t look at him like that.
“I had a buddy from high school do the flames,” Leo was explaining, always happy to talk about the van. “It’s sick, right?”
“Yep,” Cooper said. “I’ve never seen a van as cool as that.”
“I got it to take me to a Broncos game,” Leo said. If he could stand, he’d be hitching up his pants and puffing out his chest right now. “Going to see them play the Patriots. Got skybox seats lined up for me and my pal Dante.”
Cooper’s face lit up. “Dude, that’s awesome,” he said. “My money is on one of those two teams to win the Super Bowl.”
“Broncos, right?” Leo said excitedly.
“Maybe. But the Patriots are looking as strong as ever.”
“Do you know how hard it is to get tickets like this?”
“I can’t imagine.”
“It takes a genius. Here’s how I did it—”
“Excuse me,” Emma said before Leo could launch into his ever-expanding story of how he’d managed to obtain tickets and a van to a football game.
“Wha—what?” Leo stammered, unable to turn his head.
“He came to see me, Leo.”
“Hey, are you trying to stop me from talking about the game again?” Leo protested. “It’s such a great story! Okay, well, maybe it’s time you told a story, Emma. What’d you do that brings Cooper Jessup here all the way from Los Angeles?”
“Why is there an automatic assumption that I did anything?” Emma complained as she moved between Leo and Cooper, frowning down at Leo.
“Correct me if I’m wrong, baby doll, but generally speaking, men don’t come halfway across the country unless there’s a love thing going on. Or to catch a fugitive. I mean do you ever watch Dateline? I know you don’t have a love thing going on since you’re totally into me, so the only other logical conclusion is that you’re on the lam. Am I wrong?”
“You’re so wrong you’re embarrassing yourself,” Emma said flatly.
“Then who is he?” Leo asked.
“Just a guy,” Emma said, and whirled around, intending to keep Cooper from moving any deeper into the house or conversation.
But Cooper was one step ahead of her and had moved around her. “First of all, I’m not just a guy, I’m a man.” He looked directly at Emma when he said it, and the emphatic way he said man radiated down her spine and made her knees begin to quiver. “Yes, I did come with the intention of speaking to you.” He shifted his gaze back to Leo. “But not to apprehend her. I’m not a bounty hunter or a cop. But I do need to speak to her, if that’s okay.”
“Man, that would be supercool if you were a bounty hunter, bro,” Leo said.
“But he’s not, and he already spoke to me.” To Cooper, Emma said, “This is where I work. So . . .” She gestured firmly to the door.
“Hey, what’s this?” Leo exclaimed. “Is it possible that I could have been mistaken? I mean, the odds are totally against it, but this has all the markings of a lovers’ quarrel.”
“No,” Cooper said in a manner that Emma found unsettlingly quick and firm.
“Hey, it’s okay,” Leo said. “Emma and I aren’t together—”
“Leo, shut up!” Bob shouted from the kitchen where, apparently, he was managing to keep up with the conversation.
“Can’t, Dad!” Leo said cheerfully. “My mouth is the only muscle that works, and if I don’t use it, I lose it. Pardon, Mr. Jessup—you were about to tell me about this love affair?”
“I’m about to stuff a sock in that mouth!” Bob yelled.
“Ignore him,” Leo said. “He has a tendency to feel left out.”
Cooper smiled. “I wish I had something interesting to tell you, Leo. I’m also in town to do some work.” He gave Emma a self-satisfied smile that only made her feel wobblier.
“What do you mean, work? What work?” she demanded.
“I think what Emma means to ask is, what kind of work do you do?” Leo offered helpfully.
“She knows what work I do,” he said. “I have a company with some buddies called Thrillseekers Anonymous.” He explained TA to Leo, and added, “We’ve got a contract to stage a canyoneering event next summer for some studio execs, and I’m going to check out the area.”
“That is sick,” Leo said, his voice full of awe. “Dad, did you hear that?”
“I did,” Bob said, appearing in the door that led to the kitchen, wiping his hands on a dish towel. “You ought to talk with my son Luke. He’s been all over these mountains. He could show you around.”
“Oh yeah?” Cooper asked, perking up.
“There’s nothing around here that he’d be interested in,” Emma said, throwing up her hands as if trying to keep the men apart. “You’re wasting your time, Cooper. Go to Telluride and look around. That’s better.”
“Telluride,” Cooper drawled. “Where is that, exactly, Emma?”
Bastard. She had no idea where it was, and he knew it.
“No, no, Dad’s right for once,�
�� Leo said as Bob ducked back into the kitchen. “There are loads of places around here to rappel or ride white water, or even do some of the swinging Tarzan stuff I saw on the National Geographic Channel. Luke would totally show you around and he’s probably done it all.”
“I’d love to meet him,” Cooper said.
“Then come over tonight. He’ll be here. Hey! Why don’t you come for dinner? Dad! He should come for dinner!”
“Leo, for heaven’s sake,” Bob said, appearing again with Leo’s lunch in a repurposed half-gallon milk jug. It was two-thirds filled with the smoothie Emma had made before Cooper had shown up. “Before you go issuing invitations, you might ask the head bottle washer if there’s anyone available to make a dinner,” he said as he fit the jug into the apparatus he had welded onto the side of Leo’s chair.
“Don’t let this jug of delicious liquefied fish and vegetables fool you,” Leo said to Cooper. “We still eat real food around here. Well . . . we might agree to disagree on the definition of real, but what I mean is that it’s not all liquid—some of it, you can actually chew.”
Bob said something under his breath. “It ain’t fish and vegetables.” He moved to stick the straw in Leo’s mouth.
“No, Dad, wait!” Leo exclaimed. “I’m having a conversation here!”
But Bob stuck the straw into Leo’s mouth, who was powerless to stop him. Leo began the laborious effort of drinking.
“You’re more than welcome to dinner tonight if that’s what Chatty Cathy here wants,” Bob said, jerking a thumb at Leo. “I’ll whip something up. Won’t be gourmet, but it will be edible.”
“You’re kidding, right?” Emma said, startled by Bob’s willingness to have Cooper over for dinner. “What happened to the complaints about stranger danger and not wanting any trouble? Now you’re inviting him to dinner?”
“Leo wants him to come,” Bob said with a shrug.
The Perfect Homecoming (Pine River) Page 7
