But he was staring straight at her and making this yet another bad situation she had to make the best of.
Feeling rooted to the spot, Emmy once again took a deep breath, breathed it out, then literally forced herself to put one foot in front of the other to cross the farmyard.
As she did, she took stock of him.
She didn’t know exactly how hurt he’d been in the explosion—she’d only heard that he’d survived. But looking at him now Emmy saw no clues as to what injuries he’d suffered.
As far as she could tell, there were no visible scars, no discernible differences in him. He still stood tall and straight—inches over six feet. His shoulders were still a mile wide, and even though he looked slightly leaner, the officer’s service uniform he was wearing was still packed with muscle.
It was only when her gaze went above the impressive body that she noticed a difference.
At first she thought it was just that he’d grown out the buzz cut from his black-coffee-colored hair. But a couple of steps closer made her realize that his handsome face had a new gravity to it. A brooding quality. Plus the hint of some weight lost there, too, had carved hollows that made his cheekbones and chiseled jawline more ruggedly drawn, adding an intensity to his exquisitely masculine features.
A few more steps took her near enough to better see the remarkable cobalt blue eyes that had mesmerized her in the past, and there she saw even more change.
There was no sparkle, none of the humor or lightheartedness that she’d seen in them before. Even his supple-looking mouth looked somber. It was as if the light had completely gone out in him.
“Declan,” Emmy said in greeting, hearing the chill in her own reception but unable to heat it up as she came to within feet of him and stopped.
“Emmy...” he answered with a heavy helping of his own reservations.
Only in that moment did Emmy remember how she looked herself—awful.
It was bad enough to have to meet up with this guy again, but to do it with no makeup, with stringy hair and all-around grunge? For the second time, she wanted to run the other way.
But she squared her shoulders as if she had nothing to be self-conscious about, thanked heaven that at least seeing him again still hadn’t caused flashbacks to Afghanistan and said bluntly, “What are you doing here?”
His clean-shaven chin went up a notch, defiantly, defensively. “I’ve been in one hospital after another since October and now I’m just out of two months of rehab—I was released three days ago. I thought I’d be coming to face Mandy, but then I got the news that she died?”
The question revealed understandable shock. As far as anyone knew, her sister had been a healthy, vital thirty-two-year-old.
“Apparently she had a congenital heart problem that no one knew about... She died in her sleep two weeks after Kit was born.”
“She made it through a second pregnancy, a second birth and then...” His full dark eyebrows arched and he shook his head in disbelief.
“My mom thinks Topher came for her so they could be together,” Emmy said softly, wanting to believe that, too.
The mention of Declan’s late friend caused those eyebrows to pulse together as if she’d struck a nerve before he said, “I’m sorry for your loss. I liked Mandy. She and Topher were good together.”
“They were,” Emmy agreed.
A moment of silence followed that before Declan went on.
“So instead I’m here about the kids,” he announced.
“The kids?” Emmy repeated.
“I came to see what’s going on. To make sure Topher’s—” the name choked him up but he conquered it in a hurry “—kids are okay. To do what I can... I’m Trinity’s godfather, you know.”
And Emmy was her godmother. It had happened in two separate ceremonies—one with Emmy soon after Trinity was born, and a second with Declan when Topher and Declan had arranged leave time a month later.
It had been something Emmy was grateful for so she didn’t have to see Declan again then.
“Not long after Topher died, Mandy decided she’d better make a will and name a guardian for the kids in case anything ever happened to her. Nobody thought it would, but...” This time it was Emmy who choked up a bit before she got on top of it. “She named me as the kids’ guardian, so...they’re mine and you don’t have to concern yourself with them.”
That beetled his brow again. And seemed to raise a little ire in him because there was an edge to his deep voice when he said, “Topher was no different to me than either of my own brothers. I feel about his kids the way I’d feel about my own blood niece or nephew. I’m going to do what I can for them.”
“They don’t need you. Or anything from you,” Emmy said tersely, her own ire raised at the thought of having to have anything to do with him—and also at the implication she wasn’t enough to look after them.
“Look—” he said in a commanding, no-nonsense voice just as the front door opened and her mother came out.
“Declan! Is that you? I looked out to see if Emmy was back and... It is you, isn’t it?”
Oh nooo... Emmy groaned silently.
She knew how her mother felt about Declan Madison. Even before meeting him, Karen Tate—like Emmy herself—had been grateful to him for saving Emmy’s life in Afghanistan.
At Mandy and Topher’s wedding—unaware of the memories Emmy feared that the sight of him might cause her—her mother had expressed that gratitude and developed a fondness for him.
What her mother didn’t know was what had happened later on the night of the wedding.
Or how incredibly confused Emmy’s feelings about Declan had become.
Or that he’d walked her to her hotel room, made a date for breakfast with her and then gone next door for a night of what had sounded like very raucous sex with another bridesmaid.
So of course Karen Tate was excited to see him and hurried down the steps of the front porch to give him a hug.
“Oh, honey, how are you?” she asked.
Declan returned the hug stiffly, keeping his solemn, steady gaze on Emmy over her mother’s head as if to let her know that they weren’t finished with their talk.
“I’m okay,” he answered, his tone oddly reserved.
Emmy’s mom must have heard it, too, because she ended the hug and linked her arm through Declan’s to turn him toward the porch. “Come in. I want to know how you really are. And I know you must want to see Kit. And every time Trinity looks at the picture of her daddy, I point you out standing next to him and tell her who you are—she calls you Decan. Let’s see if she recognizes you in person.”
Then over her shoulder, Karen Tate said, “Go on up and have your shower, Em. I’ll keep Decan occupied.”
As her mother urged Declan to the porch steps, Emmy noted his slight limp.
For his part he didn’t cast her so much as another glance. Which irked Emmy even more.
She let them get all the way through the door before she followed, thinking about what had seemed like nothing but a generous idea when Mandy had said she wanted to volunteer for the Red Cross mission to Afghanistan that Emmy had been assigned to follow and photograph four and a half years ago.
And how much her sister’s life and her own had been altered when Topher Samms and Declan Madison had become their military escorts.
Copyright © 2019 by Victoria Pade
ISBN-13: 9781488042201
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Copyright © 2019 by Stella Bagwell
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