by Tessa Layne
Macey gave her a pained smile. “Yes.”
“And I have a child’s small. It will be big for Sophie, but you can knot it.” She held the shirts out for Macey.
Macey’s eyes filled with tears. He knew what she was thinking. He was thinking the same thing. Johnny should be here. The three of them should be doing this together, like they always did. “Jason?” Macey said thickly. “Can you keep an eye on Sophie? I need a minute. Please forgive me,” she said to Emma as she hurried out the front door.
“Wait, Mace,” Sterling called as he followed after her. He found her on the patio, leaning against the house, tears streaming from her face.
“Aww, hon.” He pulled her into an embrace, and she shook in his arms.
“I can’t do this,” she sobbed. “I can’t even talk to anyone without falling apart. How am I going to make it through this weekend?”
“You’ve got me and Jason. We’ll do this together,” he answered, his own voice tight with sorrow. “Johnny should be here. I hate that he’s not. I don’t know how he could do it.”
Macey lifted her tear-stained face, and shook her head vehemently. “Don’t say it. Don’t. We have to move forward. All of us. You, me, Jason. And we have to keep the good parts of him alive for Sophie.” She covered her face with her hands and breathed deeply. “Johnny wouldn’t want us to be stuck like he was.”
“It’s one thing to say that. It’s another thing to live it.”
She wiped her eyes. “But we have to do it.”
“But he’s only been gone a handful of months, Mace.”
“Three months and three weeks, to be exact.” She speared him with a look. “I don’t have the luxury of stopping life while I mourn. Sophie needs her one living parent to be fully present. And you owe it to your girlfriend–”
“She’s not my girlfriend.”
Macey held up a hand. “Don’t say that. Jason filled me in on the plane ride. She sure sounds like your girlfriend, and Johnny would love that. He’d want that for you.”
“But–”
“I’m so sorry to interrupt.” Emma’s voice sliced through him, cold as ice.
He whirled. Her eyes matched her voice. Shit. Damn. Motherfucker. Panic reeled through him. Had she overheard? Misconstrued? “Em–”
She held up a hand. “Save it.” Then she turned to Macey, voice softening. “Jason brought me up to speed. I’m so very sorry for your loss.”
Fuck.
Now he was in hot water. He should have been the one to tell Emma about Johnny. About Sophie and Macey. About their pact to always be there for Sophie. Instead, she heard it second-hand. For the second time in less than an hour, his chest burned. Everything he should have said flooded into his brain.
“Thank you,” Macey murmured. “I’m sorry I made a scene. This is my first trip since, since…”
“I understand.” Emma’s voice was full of compassion. “Please make yourself at home while you’re here. I have to run, but I’ll look for you at the game tomorrow.”
Hearing that finally spurred him to action. “Wait, Emma?”
She smiled tightly. Emma was never the one to make a scene. Even in high school, their battles had been private. She’d never once lost her cool when he’d taunted her publicly. But he recognized the steel in her eye. She was pissed as hell. And this time he deserved it. “I’m late for an appointment. Goodbye, Sterling.” She disappeared around the corner.
His stomach pitched. She’d said those words plenty of times before, but never with the hard edge they were delivered with just now. Always with a smile, or a laugh, or a teasing note. Fear pooled in his gut. This was just a small misunderstanding, wasn’t it? Not something to ditch him for? And if she ditched him, did that mean they had been dating and he’d been too stubborn to acknowledge it? He scrubbed a hand over his face trying to make sense of what in the hell had just happened.
Macey tsked. “Oooh. You’re in trou-ble.” Her voice pulled out the end sound.
He shook his head. “I don’t understand what just happened.”
Jason’s prosthetic scraped against the patio. “Let me explain using small words.” His voice held a hint of laughter. “You’ve been seeing Emma for three months–”
“Not seeing,” he corrected. “And I was gone for a month.”
Jason rolled his eyes and caught Macey’s eye. “This is what I was talking about.”
“Talking about what?”
“You have no right to sound offended when your head’s stuck so far up your ass you can’t even smell your own shit,” Jason fired back. “Let me spell it out. You reconnected with Emma on New Year’s Eve?”
He nodded.
“And in three months, it never occurred to you even once to mention that one of your best friends killed himself just before Christmas?”
Sterling winced. When Jason put it that way, he sounded like an ass.
“Do you have feelings for her?”
“Emma?” His voice caught in his throat. Like he was a teenager again struggling to pick a register.
Jason’s face pulled tight. A sign that he was perilously close to losing his temper. “Yes, Emma. Who else?” Jason fisted his hands on his hips. “Here’s the deal, asshole. If you have feelings for her, then you need to man up and apologize.”
“Groveling works well,” Macey added.
Sterling spun to her. “Not you too?”
She gave him an enigmatic smile. “Works wonders. If Johnny were here, he’d tell you how it worked for him.”
“As I was saying,” Jason continued. “If you have any feelings for Emma at all, then you need to go apologize. And if you’re just an asshole.” Jason spread his hands. “Then leave her the fuck alone.”
For a stark moment, Sterling saw the two futures laid out side by side. One with Emma’s smiling face, her laughter and wit. And their sizzling hot nights. The other? The bone aching loneliness like those first weeks at West Point. The cold look in her eyes when she’d left the Trading Post on a snowy New Year’s Eve a few years later. The hollow spot in his chest that lately, hadn’t felt so hollow.
He pinched the bridge of his nose. “I don’t know what to do.”
“Just say you’re sorry, Sterling,” said Macey gently. “If she’s as nice as she seems, that’s all she’ll need to hear.”
“It’s not that simple.”
Jason shook his head, clapping him on the shoulder. “It really is that simple. And we’ll be right here for you the whole time. Go get ’em champ.”
CHAPTER 22
He’d tried her phone three times throughout the afternoon. Radio silence.
It was his own fault, too. He’d completely mishandled her. Mishandled himself. But she could at least answer the phone. This time he’d leave a message. He hated leaving voice messages. But what else could he do if she refused to take his call? At least she’d know he was sorry.
If she listened to it.
He fought a wave of panic. She’d listen to it. She had to. He pressed call again. Still no answer. Only her professional greeting. Cool and calm and so unlike the firebrand she was when they were together. “Emma, Em. It’s me. Sterling. Can we talk? Please? I owe you an apology. And I’d like the chance to make it in person. Any chance you can come over this evening? I’ll make a fire and we can talk.” Words piled up in his mouth. Important words. Scary words. Ready to tumble out if he let them. He ended the call and resumed his pacing.
The remainder of the afternoon crawled by. He saddled Bingo and rode the fence lines checking for broken spots. In the far north pasture, he pulled Bingo to a halt and slid off, fighting to pull a giant dead branch of red cedar off the fencing. Who knew what storm had carried it? But this was coming home as fuel for his fire pit. As he pulled it loose, the branch snapped back scraping across his cheek.
“Ouch. Goddammit.”
Stomping back to Bingo, he grabbed a length of rope from inside the saddle bag that held his tools. He wound the rope around the base of t
he branch then walked back to Bingo and settled himself in the saddle. He dragged that damn branch all the way home. Past the tiny houses that would soon house their first group of veterans. Cash’s and Kate’s were now finished and stood apart from the others. The materials for the remaining homes sat on pallets in their respective areas, ready for the construction crews after the weekend’s tournament.
He refrained from pulling his phone from his coat pocket. Emma hadn’t called. He’d have felt the vibrations. Dropping the rope by his porch, he rode into the barn and took his time currying and caring for Bingo. “What is it with you ladies?” he asked as he scratched her cheek. “Can’t figure any of you out.”
Bingo dropped her head, pricking her ears forward, as if she had something to say. Giving her a final pat, he pulled out his phone. Even he knew enough to know never to apologize to a woman via text. But she gave him no choice. He wasn’t about to let her go to bed angry. Or go to bed. He had better plans for her.
“You think make-up sex would help, Bingo?” Sterling grinned at the thought. Maybe he’d give her a bath. Better yet, a shower, where they both could enjoy the soap and the bubbles. His cock rose to half-mast just thinking about all the naughty and delightful things they could do underneath a spray of hot water. His thumb hovered over the keyboard, heart galloping. He started typing before he lost his nerve.
S: I don’t want to ruin this weekend. Please come over so I can grovel in person?
He shoved the phone into his pocket and walked out of the barn. If she was going to give him the cold shoulder, there was nothing he could do about it. As he stepped foot on the porch, his phone buzzed.
E: What time?
He gave a fist pump and fired off a quick reply.
S: Anytime you’re ready to talk.
A moment later his phone buzzed again.
E: I’m wrapping up the final details for tomorrow’s game. How about 7?
That sounded perfect. The sun would be setting about then, thanks to Daylight Savings. And he’d bet his last dollar she’d be hungry. She probably hadn’t had a bite to eat all day. An idea formed in his head.
S: I’ll throw some steaks on the grill.
E: Sounds great <3
His heart tripped at the emoji. She couldn’t be that upset if she was adding heart emojis could she? Still. He wanted this night to be different. More… real. And he had just enough time to make it perfect.
When Emma’s car crunched across the gravel two hours later, he was ready. His heartbeat quickened as her boots hit the steps to the door. He opened it before she had a chance to knock and the air whooshed out of his chest at the sight of her.
She’d changed her clothes. Her hair hung in loose waves down her shoulders, just the way he liked it. She’d put on a blue sweater with a wide vee neck that brought out her eyes and clung to her curves. From the looks of it, it was as soft as a baby’s cheek. All the words he’d planned, the apology speech, the surprise on the back patio, all of it, flew from his head. “Come here,” he said gruffly as he pulled her into an embrace and tenderly kissed her forehead. “I’m sorry. I’ve been an ass. Please accept my apology.”
She gasped, eyes widening, making a sound of surprise in the back of her throat as she traced a finger over the scratch on his cheek. “Are you okay? What happened?”
“Just a scratch. And you look stunning.”
“Thank you,” she murmured.
“Come in? I have something to show you.” He trailed a hand down her arm to lace his fingers with hers as he pulled her through the office and into the house. As he led her through the kitchen and out the back door, the smell of grilling meat wafted over them.
“Mmmm. I’m hungry,” she said eagerly, then stopped as she took in the scene he’d set. “You bought wine?”
He stepped to the tiny table between two Adirondack chairs, and handed her a stemless globe filled with red liquid. “I thought it might be better for groveling.”
She huffed out a laugh. “You didn’t have to do this.”
He absolutely had to do it. He needed to show her what he always seemed to mess up when words were involved. “I also noticed you only have wine at your apartment, even though you usually drink beer at the Trading Post.”
She cocked her head, clearly surprised. “Beggars can’t be choosers. And I like beer too.”
“But you like wine better.”
She nodded. “I do.”
He gestured to the chair. “Sit. Steaks are almost done.”
She sat, then swiveled to look up at him. “Why are you doing this?”
He leaned to place a kiss on her forehead. “Talk later. For now, just enjoy the fire.” The difficult explanations would be easier on a full stomach in front of the fire. A knot of fear at the pain he knew was coming formed, sharp and tight in his chest. If he could enjoy the peace a little longer, he would. It was a perfect spring night. The air was soft, and smelled like fresh dirt and mown grass. But there was still enough chill in the air that a fire offered the perfect atmosphere. He plated the steaks, topped off their wine, and sat down next to her. Perching their plates on their knees, they ate in an easy silence as the night peepers began their chorus.
Emma put down her fork. “Thank you for dinner. Every part of it has been amazing. But you’re making me nervous. All this…” she swept her hand around, “romance, is unlike you. Now will you tell me what’s going on?” She braced an elbow on the arm, propping her chin on her hand. Eyes round and serious.
That she thought romance was unlike him, ate at him. Regret surged through him. He should have sent her flowers after he’d spent the weekend with her in Kansas City. Johnny had sent Macey flowers all the time. So much so, that he and Jason had teased him mercilessly. But their teasing hadn’t been enough to stop him. He’d shrugged it off, smiled enigmatically, and said just you wait. And now Sterling knew what he meant by that. But the longing sparred with the fear. Twisted and danced inside him until he couldn’t tell which was way up. What direction to move. It paralyzed him.
He stared into the fire. Tracing one flicker after another. Letting the movement hypnotize him. “Johnny was our best friend. He and Jason and I met during Beast, and we’ve been inseparable ever since. Johnny met Macey when we were Firsties, and right away, he knew she was the one. He came to us the next day and told us then he was going to marry her.”
“That’s sweet.”
Sterling shook his head. “It really wasn’t. Johnny was like a man possessed. He couldn’t concentrate, talked of nothing but how amazing Macey was. Burned up the phone lines talking to her. He wrote her every day, and sent flowers. All the goddamned time. It was annoying as shit. But then we met her. And we understood why.”
“She’s lovely.”
Sterling’s head snapped up at the note of resignation in her voice. “She is lovely. The nicest person you’ll ever meet. It’s impossible not to love her.” He reached out for Emma’s hand. “But my interest in her is only brotherly.” He stroked her soft skin with his thumb. “Jason and I made a pact to look after her, and to be the men in Sophie’s life.”
Emma made a sound in the back of her throat and dropped her head. “She’s very lucky,” she said thickly.
Sterling blew out a breath, as a sharp pain lodged in his sternum. “I’m doing a piss-poor job of explaining myself. We’re not doing that because we think that’s what Johnny would want us to do. Be there because he couldn’t be. We’re doing it – I’m doing it because I’m pissed as hell that Johnny’s not here to finish what he started.” His voice rose as the pent-up anger and hurt boiled over. “He fucking bailed on the two women he said he loved more than anything. He promised Macey forever, and brought a child into the world, and then he quit them.” White hot anger blazed through him and he shook with the intensity of it. “He quit them,” he said raggedly, then dropped his head into his hands. “I don’t understand how he could quit them and leave us to pick up the pieces.”
The pain hollowed his stoma
ch, rising to close off his throat. He gulped in air, trying to regain some control. “He was one of my best friends.” His vision blurred. “And I should have done more to help him.” He sniffed hard through his nose, trying to grab back the emotions. Stuff them back inside. But they were having none of that. “I don’t understand how he could leave his wife and daughter. How he could give up on them. On us. Me and Jason.”
He stood, pacing around the fire. “We had a pact.” He kicked a rock at the edge of the fire pit. “We were in this together to the very end.” Hot tears wet his eyes and he kicked the stone again.
“Sterling?”
He heard the concern in her voice, but he was on a roll, anger spewing out of him with volcanic force. He stalked back to where she was perched on the chair and he bent over the chair next to her. “And you want to know why I didn’t tell you? Why I never brought it up?” He dragged the chair out of the circle of warmth and threw it into the yard. “Because I’m a man.” He followed the chair and gave it a mighty kick, splintering the back. He dimly registered a squeak from Emma but he’d unleashed the fury, letting it take over. “I’m a goddamned soldier and we don’t. Fucking. Cry.” He punctuated each word with another kick, destroying the chair. His voice was raw. Gravelly. “We soldier on and we get the fucking job done no matter what.”
He turned, and seeing tear-stained cheeks glistening in the firelight, turned away again. “And I. Can’t. Handle this,” he bellowed, throat on fire. His knees gave way and he roared to the sky. “Why’d you quit us Johnny? What gave you the right?” He fell forward, pounding his palm into the ground, not feeling the sharp pebbles biting his skin. “Fuck you, man,” he sobbed as the tears erupted. His lungs burned. “Fuck you,” he barked, continuing to pound the dirt.
And then her hands on his shoulders. “Hush, Sterling. It’s okay. It’s going to be okay.”
“It’s not,” he bawled. “What if I turn into him? What if I go off the rails and I do what he did?” He shook his head, leaning back on his heels.
