Songbird

by Maya Banks

  She tried to take a breath and then another. Her eyes flooded with tears and sobs piled up deep inside her chest. The agony was unbearable. She was going to break. Maybe she was having a heart attack. How could it hurt so much?

  A horrible noise echoed across the hillside, startling her, and then shockingly, she realized the sound came from her, from the very bowels of hell.

  Another followed, and she fell to her knees as finally, she shattered.

  Her arms clutched her belly as the sobs came tearing out of her soul. Her hands moved to her throat in an effort to stem the horrible tide of grief.

  When she felt wetness, she pulled her fingers away in bewilderment to see her tears shining on her palms.

  She leaned forward to touch Sean’s name, to trace the etching on the marble headstone, made blurry by the tears running in streams down her cheeks.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered hoarsely. “God, I’m so sorry. I loved you so much. You were everything to me.”

  Her head fell forward as the horrible, wracking sobs spilled from her lips. The sound was so harsh, so ugly that she covered her ears, but still, the noise permeated every pore.

  She sank lower until she curled in a ball on the ground next to Sean’s grave, her entire body heaving with the force of her cries.

  Before she hadn’t felt enough, and now she felt too much. It overwhelmed her, and she couldn’t survive this. Sean was gone. He wasn’t coming back. She’d killed him.

  “Emmy, ahh sweetheart.”

  Firm hands glided over her body, moving her, repositioning her, and then she was lifted into the air. She turned into Taggert’s chest, clamping her lips tight to stop the sounds of raw agony tearing their way out.

  She grabbed at him, seeking his strength, knowing she could no longer do this alone.

  “It wasn’t you,” she rasped out between sobs, the words barely recognizable. “Wasn’t your fault. Mine.”

  “Shhh, you’re talking crazy,” he said as he gripped her tighter.

  Her body swayed and bounced as he began the walk back to the house. To her immense relief, the awful noise stopped, but the tears tracked endlessly down her face, wetting his shirt.

  Taggert halted suddenly, and Emily heard Greer demand what the hell was wrong.

  She couldn’t find the strength to look at Greer. Her strength was gone. She’d thought herself weak before, but now she realized the fortitude it had taken not to break before now, to face each day, even as numb as she’d been, and survive.

  The next thing she knew, her clothing was being removed, and she couldn’t even summon a protest. Her vision was blurred by the torrent of tears. She couldn’t stop them. Now that they’d finally come, she had no idea how to turn them off.

  Her hands fluttered helplessly to cover herself, but neither Taggert nor Greer was concerned with her nudity. She was thrust into a hot shower, and she reached for the walls to brace herself when she realized that Taggert had come in with her, still fully clothed.

  They stood there under the hot spray until some of the bone-numbing cold began to wear off. Her shivering gradually lessened, and some of the heat seeped into her skin.

  She bowed her head, letting the water run over her hair and down her body. Taggert simply held her, his hands firm around her shoulders, lending support she badly needed.

  And then Greer reached in for her, pulling her away from Taggert and out into the cold again. Greer wrapped a towel around her, rubbing briskly, and then he stilled for a moment and gently touched the end of the towel to her cheeks, wiping away the tears.

  Silently, more fell, and she wondered how many more she could possibly shed. Would it ever end? But the ache hadn’t diminished. She opened her mouth to speak and realized why the horrible noise had stopped. Her voice was gone. Nothing more than a raspy exhalation sounded. Had she broken that too?

  “Shhh, don’t try to force it,” Greer said.

  He leaned forward, wrapping his arms around her, and pressed his lips to her forehead.

  “This was a long time coming, Emmy. It’s only going to get worse before you get better.”

  He pulled away and looked down at her pale, gaunt face, watching helplessly as the tears fell faster than he could wipe them away.

  He’d never felt so damn useless in his life.

  Yes, he’d wanted Emily to break. Finally. She was operating on autopilot, scraping by while her reserves were fast depleted. She couldn’t go on like she had forever. But the alternative was seeing his beautiful Emmy completely and utterly shattered.

  He wrapped the towel around her once more, tucking the ends at her small breasts. Taggert was drying off behind them, and Greer didn’t spare him a glance as he herded Emily out of the bathroom toward the bedroom.

  He rummaged in her still-unpacked bag, cursing when he saw that she barely had any clothing and her one pair of pajamas was dirty and wet.

  Easing her to a sitting position on the bed, he tilted her chin upward. “Wait right here, sweet pea. I’ll be back.”

  He strode into his bedroom and snagged one of his flannel shirts then returned to Emily’s room where she sat on the bed, her eyes vacant and tearful. One hand was massaging her throat absently, and a grimace worked at her mouth.

  She’d hurt herself. He’d never forget the sounds she made. He’d heard her all the way from the house, and the raw edge of grief mixed with her cries had sent a chill down his spine.

  “Here, put this on,” he urged. “I’ll have Buck make you some soup. It’ll feel good on your throat.”

  She reacted listlessly, as if it took all her strength to shrug out of the towel. He helped her into the shirt and quickly buttoned it up.

  Taggert walked in and Greer looked up to see distress in his older brother’s eyes. Tagg wanted to say something. Greer could see it. He was battling with himself, not knowing whether it was the time.

  Greer shook his head, hoping Taggert got the message. Whatever it was could wait. Emily was at her end. There was no way she could process anything Tagg had to say anyway.

  Greer tucked Emily into bed, pulling the covers up so she would be warm. She was still crying, her shoulders shaking, but no sound escaped from her lips. He leaned down to kiss her and whispered a silent prayer that she would make it out of this.

  When he stood, Taggert was still standing by the door, his hand rubbing a stressed path through his hair. Greer motioned him out of the bedroom, and the two met in the hall.

  “She’s blaming herself,” Taggert said. “Goddamn it, Greer. She lost it when I told her that if I’d never sent her away Sean would still be alive. I did this to her. She went to pieces at his grave, and she apologized to me. Said it was her fault, not mine.”

  Greer blew out a long breath. “It had to happen, Tagg. Whatever the reason for it, she couldn’t keep on in denial, just existing day to day like some damn ghost. We’ll figure out why she blames herself later. Right now I’m just glad she’s finally letting herself cry.”

  “Why is it that I’m always the one to hurt her?”

  The self-condemnation in Taggert’s voice was strong, and as much as he didn’t like the idea of his brother in pain, Greer’s focus was Emily.

  He put a hand on Taggert’s shoulder. “Put it away, man. You’re not doing yourself or her any good. She needs us both right now. I’m going to go down and get her some soup. She’s cried herself hoarse.”

  “I’ll stay with her until you get back,” Taggert said as he turned back to Emily’s door.

  Chapter Six

  Crying females had always made Taggert uncomfortable, but this wasn’t a woman pouting or crying because she hadn’t gotten her way. It wasn’t an effort at manipulation or an upset that she’d get over in a few minutes.

  He was completely and utterly baffled as to how to help her. Should he hold her? Touch her? Not touch her?

  Did he tell her he loved her—had always loved her—or would that just pile more on her when she couldn’t stand up under what she alre
ady bore?

  He stood by her bed, running his hand through his hair for the tenth time. Christ, but there weren’t rule books for these situations. What if he did or said the wrong thing?

  In the end, the decision was made for him.

  Emily turned her face and stared up at him, the silent trails down her cheeks ripping his heart right out of his chest.

  She tried to talk, but it came out in a hoarse cough. Instead she held up her hand.

  He grasped her trembling fingers and pressed a kiss to her knuckles as he slid onto the bed beside her.

  With a muted, strangled sob, she turned into him, clutching him as if he were her lifeline. And maybe in a way he was.

  “It’s going to be all right, Emmy,” he whispered against her hair. “I swear it.”

  She shook and fluttered against him like a wounded butterfly. He eased one arm underneath her then pulled her closer to his body as he leaned back against the pillows.

  Her mouth worked against his chest, and he knew she was trying to talk again. After the horrible screams that had assaulted his ears, he couldn’t imagine she had anything left.

  “Shhh,” he said as he rocked her back and forth. He rubbed his hand up and down her back, making little circles at her shoulder blades then pressing firmly against her spine. “Don’t talk. Give your voice a rest, Songbird.”

  She shuddered against him and turned her wet cheek into his throat as if seeking more of him, his warmth and strength. It was all he had to offer her right now, and he couldn’t deny her anything.

  His mouth found her temple and he nuzzled her hair back before kissing her soft, pale skin.

  “I just want you to listen to me, Emmy. I love you. I let you go once. I’m not letting you go again.”

  She went very still against him and slowly raised her head, her luminous blue eyes wide as she stared back at him.

  “I’m not saying I have everything figured out. I think we have a lot of hard work ahead of us. But I need you to know that I’m not walking away this time.”

  A sound at the door turned Taggert sharply away. Guilt crept over his shoulders, and he angrily shook it off. Greer was standing there, his expression indecipherable as he held a tray with a bowl of soup and a glass of tea.

  Nothing Taggert had said would surprise Greer, but Taggert still felt like he was sneaking one over. And that pissed him off.

  Greer carried the tray to the bed, and Taggert touched Emily’s cheek, returning her gaze to him.

  “Sit up for us and eat some soup. You don’t have to take it all, but it’ll make your throat feel better.”

  She pushed against him and struggled upward. He helped her until she was sitting up in bed, then he plumped the pillows behind her back to give her support.

  Greer slid onto the bed on her other side and settled the tray over her lap.

  “Eat up,” he said gently.

  He glanced briefly over at Taggert, but Taggert didn’t see any judgment or condemnation in his brother’s eyes. Just concern for Emmy.

  Greer reached out and caught a tendril of her hair that fell forward as she bent to blow on a spoonful of soup. He tucked it behind her ear and trailed a fingertip over her cheekbone.

  She raised her head slowly to stare at him, and Taggert sucked in his breath at the multitude of emotions expressed in her gaze.

  She was searching for answers that Greer hadn’t supplied so far. There was fear and uncertainty cast deep in the shadows of her eyes.

  Greer sighed. “Not now, Emmy. Not here. Neither one of us is up for what I have to say.”

  Her gaze skirted sideways to Taggert. His first instinct was to rush in, talk for Greer, state his case since he knew damn well what his brother wanted, what he felt for Emily. Anything to make her smile again or at least erase some of the pain from her eyes.

  But he kept silent because he knew this was huge. This wasn’t just about him and Emily. It was about him, Emily and Greer.

  Greer just better hurry the fuck up.

  The two brothers sat in silence while Emily ate her soup. When she was finished, she leaned back against the pillows with a weary sigh. The tears that had stopped briefly while she ate slipped like silver strands over the hollows of her cheeks.

  The discomfort in Taggert’s chest grew until it was a physical ache. He looked to Greer for help, but his brother just quietly collected the tray and headed for the door.

  Anger tightened Taggert’s features, and he battled the urge to go after Greer and ask him what the hell his problem was. But he didn’t want to leave Emily. Or was that what Greer was trying to tell him? That they should leave Emily alone?

  Jesus Christ, now he was looking to his younger brother for guidance?

  He felt a million years old. Too old for Emily, too old to feel so helpless.

  Fatigue whispered through his veins, mixing with sorrow. He loved Emily, had missed her, but he missed Sean too. Somehow, he’d imagined that one day Emily and Sean would come back home even though he’d resigned himself to never having Emily as anything more than a sister-in-law. As much as he wanted Emily, he’d trade a future with her to have his brother back, because then Emily would smile again.

  He glanced down at Emily to see her eyelashes flutter and finally come to rest on the dark smudges beneath her eyes. She looked beautiful and delicate, so very fragile that he was afraid to touch her for fear she’d shatter.

  Carefully shifting his weight so as not to disturb her, he moved further down the bed and put his arm over her waist. She responded to his touch by snuggling into him, her cheek nuzzling his chest. Her head bumped his chin as she sought to get closer, and finally she tucked herself into the curve of his body like a cat seeking warmth.

  He held her like that for the longest time, listening to the soft sounds of her distress even as she slept. He caressed and held her, offering her comfort the only way he knew how. By being here.

  When finally she quieted, he melted into the bed in exhaustion. He hadn’t realized how tense he’d been through the entire ordeal or how tightly he was wound.

  Her even breathing whispered across his chest, and he touched her cheek to find that while it was still damp, there were no new tears. Maybe she’d finally cried herself out.

  He rested there for a while, enjoying the feel of her in his arms. Oh, he’d held her plenty of times over the years, but never this way. He’d never wanted her to guess the extent of his feelings, and then when she’d married Sean, he’d stopped touching her at all beyond a casual kiss on the cheek the few times they’d seen each other.

  Where was Greer? It wasn’t like him to bolt. He was the levelheaded one in the Donovan family. Taggert and Sean were the two short fuses, quick to blow and quick to get over it. Greer…he liked to brood. Which was probably what he was doing now.

  Taggert sighed and eased away from Emily. She didn’t even flinch when he got up. He tiptoed across the floor and let himself out of her bedroom to go in search of Greer.

  ***

  Greer shoved his hands in his pockets and stared at his brother’s grave. He hadn’t been out to visit in a while. Maybe he’d been as much in denial as Emily had. Seeing her shattered and scattered to the wind brought back the grief he’d tried to bury. Now it felt like a festering wound about to open.

  It had always been the four of them. Looking back, he couldn’t even see when it had started to unravel. He hadn’t opened his eyes to the possibility of Emily marrying, wanting a family. A career. Somehow he’d just taken for granted that she’d always be here, a part of his life, not changing.

  He shook his head at his stupidity. If only he could have that day back again. If he’d only had some warning, some idea of what Emily was thinking—feeling.

  After he and Taggert had sent her away… He flinched and tightened his lips in a line. Sent away implied some calm, civilized action. They’d rejected her, and she’d fled in tears. The next thing he knew, Sean and Emily had eloped and she’d signed a recording contract that woul
d take her away from Montana—and him and Taggert.

  Where had it all gone so terribly wrong?

  “You don’t come out here often.”

  Greer turned to see his brother standing a few feet away, his gaze resting on Sean’s grave.