by Angel Smits
“Emily?” Wyatt’s deep, warm voice broke through, luring her away from the pain.
Looking over her shoulder, she saw him striding toward her. Comfort washed over her, confusing her because she’d never felt that way before. Wyatt’s image came clearly into focus, the past receding just a bit. The elevator dinged and the doors slid open with their usual swish. She tried to move, but couldn’t. The doors closed.
“Emily.” His voice was softer now.
Reality slowly returned, and heat swamped her cheeks as she realized what had happened and where she was. And who she was with. She closed her eyes and mumbled a curse. How could this man possibly think she was competent when she didn’t? Not at the moment, anyway.
“I’m sorry. Excuse me. I really need to go.” She headed for the stairs. Her office was only three flights up. Her heels snapped against the thick steel stairs, echoing up the entire shaft, her only indication she was actually moving.
But her mind couldn’t escape that kitchen and her mom’s screams. The stairs blurred as tears filled her eyes. She stumbled, feeling hard metal bite into her shin. Gravity reached out for her and in that instant she wondered if she’d die—and escape the memories—if she fell all the way down the long flight of steps.
She didn’t think she’d mind. But the option was taken out of her control when strong arms caught her. Slowly, Wyatt lowered them both to the steps.
The metal was cold against her backside, but thankfully solid as he sat down beside her. The only warmth she felt came from him as the steps were narrow, and he had to sit close. For a long moment she simply focused on catching her breath, but there was no ignoring him, or what had happened.
“You going to tell me what’s going on, or just deny it like you did the last time?”
Emily closed her eyes, wondering what to tell him. It wasn’t as if she knew why things were falling apart around her. She couldn’t pinpoint a specific cause. Maybe she was losing her mind. “I’ve had a lot going on. I guess I’m overtired, or something.” She looked up at him then, because even seated, he was taller than she was.
“That’s all you’ve got?”
She tried to smile. “At the moment, yes.” Reaching out, she curled her hand around the cold metal handrail and pulled herself to her feet. She took a minute to steady herself and smooth her skirt, then turned and continued up the stairs.
“Where are you going?” He fell into step behind her.
“To my office.”
“There’s a perfectly good elevator down there.”
“I know.” And a dozen pair of eyes in the coffee shop that had seen her bolt. No, thanks. “It’s only three floors up. The exercise is good for me.”
“And Addie thinks I’m crazy,” he mumbled and continued to follow her up the stairs. They’d just reached the next flight when the heavy fire door to the hall below slammed open, hitting the concrete wall like a gunshot. Emily gasped and stumbled. Before either of them could think, his arms were around her again, warm and strong.
Two kids jogged up past them. “Get a room,” one of them commented as their footsteps headed up. Emily cringed at the kid’s crude comment. Just because they were standing close didn’t mean...although she was all too aware of Wyatt’s arm around her back, his big hand splayed across her side, his thumb just brushing the edge of her breast.
She froze. His fingers curled against her ribs, holding her tight. She didn’t try to move away. His warmth felt so good. His eyes looked so earnest. “I...” she whispered.
Time vanished as Wyatt’s gaze met hers, and just when she thought she’d gotten lost in them, his eyes moved, sweeping down her face to rest on her lips. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been this close to a man.
The shadow of the whiskers on his jaw tempted her to reach up and touch, and the warm, sunbaked scent of cowboy lured her to lift her chin....
Sanity returned with the click of a set of high heels on the stairs above. Emily jumped away from Wyatt. She didn’t look at him again, and with the determination that she kept forgetting she had whenever in this man’s presence, she set her jaw and her resolve in place and went up the rest of the way without incident. She didn’t stop until she was back inside her office, leaning against the locked door.
What was wrong with her? She berated herself. This was not okay. He was a participant in a case where she was the judge. She could lose everything. She’d worked too hard to lose all she’d worked for because her hormones were in overdrive.
How much time passed she didn’t know, but the soft knock on the door surprised her. For an instant, she thought maybe he’d followed her, then realized there was no way Wyatt would ever timidly knock on any door. And why she thought he’d bother to follow her was beyond her.
“Emily?” Dianne’s voice came through the door to accompany another soft knock. “Are you okay?”
Emily took a deep breath. This was not acceptable, she told herself. Straightening her shoulders, she breathed in one more time and opened the door.
Worry lined Dianne’s face and Emily immediately felt guilty. “I’m sorry—”
Dianne shook her head to dismiss the apology. “I tried to call down to the coffee shop but they said you’d already left. Mr. Watson called. Your mother’s fallen. He wants you to contact him immediately.” She handed over a yellow sticky note with the assisted living’s number scrawled on it.
All the air rushed from Emily’s lungs and for an instant she froze. Then she ran to her desk and had to dial the number three times before she got it right. Her heart beat so loudly in her ears that she hardly heard the phone ring. When the receptionist put her on hold to transfer her, she nearly screamed in frustration. But Dianne’s hands on her shoulders gently guided her, and she reluctantly sat in the chair.
“Hello? Ms. Ivers?” The man’s voice sounded calm. Too calm.
“Yes.”
“I’m sorry to tell you this, but your mother took a rather nasty fall.”
Emily’s heart sank. “What happened? Is she hurt?”
“We’re not sure yet. Rose found her on the floor of her room when she went to get her for lunch. Her face is badly bruised. While I don’t think her arm is seriously injured, she’s cradling it, and she won’t let us look at it.”
The past shivered over Emily’s shoulders. “Her right arm?”
“Yes. How did you know?”
“She hurt it years ago,” Emily whispered, fighting the images crowding her mind, images she’d nearly banished while in Wyatt’s arms. Oh, why did she have to think of him now? “It never healed properly.” It might have, if Earl had taken her to the doctor.
“She won’t let us treat her.” The man’s frustration was loud and clear even if his words were soft. “We thought if you could come down, maybe she’d cooperate.”
Emily wasn’t so sure about that, but at least they were trying. “I’ll be right there.” A sigh of relief came through the line and without saying goodbye, Emily hung up.
“Oh, God, Dianne.” Emily’s voice broke and the older woman put a comforting arm around her shoulder. Emily almost let herself lean into the comfort. Almost.
“I’ll take care of your appointments. You just go.”
Emily nodded, not sure where she’d left her keys. Or her purse. Or anything. She realized her purse was where she always put it, in the bottom drawer of her desk. She was halfway to the door when she spun around again. Keys. She needed keys.
“Are you okay to drive?” Dianne’s voice came from so far away.
“Yes. Sure.” Emily headed to the door again, her mind filled with images of her mother, cradling her broken arm, crying with the pain. She never should have taken her mother to that place. She should have found a way to keep her at the house, or move her into her own apartment.
How many times had she
had this same argument with herself, and how many times had she realized this was the best option?
“I’ll take you.” A voice cut through all the chaos raging in Emily’s mind. She spun around. Wyatt stood in the open doorway, his hands at his hips like some Western lawman taking control.
“I’m fine.”
“No, you’re not. Come on. My truck’s just out front.”
“I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself and my mother.” Emily knew she sounded ungrateful, but she’d already shown too much of herself to this man. She had to keep her distance. It was hard enough to appear professional and competent around him.
“I think it’s a good idea,” Dianne chimed in.
Emily glared at her. Traitor.
Slowly, Wyatt walked into the room, not the stalking gait of the powerful man he was, but gently, as if he were approaching a spooked horse. “I’m not trying to force you,” he crooned, but belied the softness with a frown. “Look, I know what you’re dealing with. I lost my mom just a few months ago.”
Their gazes met and she saw pain in his eyes. Saw the understanding and empathy there, and felt that same calmness she’d felt when he’d caught her on the stairs. Knowing he and Dianne were right, and not wanting to admit it, Emily simply nodded and moved past him and out the door.
* * *
FOLLOWING EMILY’S DIRECTIONS, it only took ten minutes for Wyatt to make the trip to Sunset Haven. And all ten of them were silent. It wasn’t until Wyatt pulled into visitor parking that Emily turned and faced him.
“I can handle it from here.” Emily reached for the handle of the door, effectively dismissing him.
“Yeah, but how will you get back home?” He didn’t wait for her answer. Instead, he climbed out and led the way to the entrance.
She was angry, he knew that. He also knew that she wasn’t really angry with him. She was angry at the situation, at herself and just maybe a little at life. He remembered those days, before Mom passed away, when he couldn’t do a thing to help her. He hated that useless feeling.
Emily stalked past him, her hair flying behind her. If he weren’t so concerned about her state of mind, he’d definitely let himself enjoy the view.
He didn’t like the fact that he was attracted to her. In that stairwell, he’d wanted nothing more than to pull her close and taste her. For an instant, he’d seen her soften, felt the gentle pull of her attraction.
An older woman in a bright blue uniform met Emily at the door and surprisingly gave her a hug, which Emily accepted. Something he doubted she normally did. Together, the women entered a room down the hall.
Not sure what to do, Wyatt stopped outside the door. He’d hung around outside Mom’s room a lot during those last few days. Addie had always been the one in with her.
He leaned against the wall, wondering and waiting. Despite his best efforts, he couldn’t ignore the conversation going on in the room, but no matter how much he wanted to, he knew better than to go inside.
“Mom, it’s okay,” Emily said, a thick veil of tears in her voice.
“No. I can’t. He’ll find out.”
“Who’s he?” an unfamiliar voice asked, probably the nurse.
“My stepfather, I think.” He could barely hear Emily’s whisper. “Mom, Earl’s not here anymore. It’s okay.”
“He’ll come back. He always comes back.” Her mother’s voice broke with panic.
“No, Mom, he’s—”
“It’s okay.” There was a shuffling sound as the nurse spoke, interrupting Emily. “Helen, we’ll make sure he’s aware of what’s going on.”
“No. He won’t like it,” her mother sobbed.
“Okay, Helen. We’ll wait.”
“But—” Emily’s words abruptly stopped again. He heard footsteps, but they stopped on the other side of the door.
“Arguing with her will only upset her more,” the nurse said.
“But Earl’s dead. Shouldn’t that make her feel better?”
“Maybe. But let’s let the medication relax her, and then we’ll see how she does. She’s already much calmer since you got here. Wait here, sit by her. Think of good things to talk about. I’ll be back in a minute.”
“All right.”
Wyatt didn’t move, not even sure if Emily remembered he was here. It didn’t matter—he wasn’t leaving. The nurse came out and looked at him with open curiosity. She nodded then headed down the hall. What should he do?
He was saved from making a decision by the sound of a shuffled step and a rattling noise. An old cowboy pushing a metal walker with bright yellow tennis balls instead of rubber feet headed toward him. He wore a dark brown Stetson and a pearl snap shirt. Other than the walker, this guy could be him someday.
The man stopped in front of Wyatt. “Family?” He tilted his head toward Helen’s room.
“Nah. Just a friend.”
The old man grinned. “Must be a mighty good friend.”
“Why do you say that?”
“People don’t often come to places like this voluntarily. Mostly obligation.”
“Ah.”
“How’s Helen doing?”
Wyatt was surprised the old man knew what was going on and that surprise must have shown on his face as the old man chuckled.
“We all know what’s goin’ on around here. The grapevine is alive and well in this place, even if nothin’ else is.”
Wyatt had to smile at the old man’s twisted sense of humor.
“No sense coolin’ your heels out here. It could be a while.” The old man extended his hand while he carefully balanced and held on to the walker with his other hand. “I’m Hal Cooper.”
“Wyatt Hawkins.” Wyatt hastily shook his hand then let go so Hal could balance better. “Pleased to meet you.”
“I’ll buy you a cup of coffee. Come on.” Hal started moving noisily down the hall. “I’ll let Rosie know where we’re headed.”
With the racket the walker made, Wyatt doubted Rosie, whoever she was, would have any trouble tracking them, but he fell in step beside the man as they headed to the large dining room.
“They just put in the new crappachino machine,” Hal explained.
“I don’t think there’s an R in that word,” Wyatt suggested as he settled in a chair where he could see Helen’s door.
“Don’t be too sure. You haven’t tasted it yet.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
WITH THE CURTAINS drawn, her mother’s room was dim. Emily turned on a small bedside lamp, casting long shadows over the tiny figure in the bed. Emily’s heart hurt, missing the woman who’d raised her, the woman she’d come home to after school each day, who’d been her shoulder to lean on.
“Mom?” She didn’t want to startle her mother if she was sleeping, but she didn’t want to leave her mother alone in her worry, either.
“Emily?” Helen turned her head to smile weakly at her. Emily smiled back. “You’re here. I missed you.”
Helen tried to sit up, but Emily gently pressed a hand to her shoulder. “Go ahead and rest. I’ll just sit here. We can chat if you want.”
“I’d love to, but I’m so sleepy, sweetheart.”
“Then rest. I’m not going anywhere.”
“You’re such a good girl.” Helen smiled and closed her eyes. “I don’t know what I did to deserve you.”
Emily’s heart constricted at the unaccustomed praise. “We’re both lucky, I guess.”
Helen winced. “My arm aches today.” Her voice sounded distant, as if the notion surprised her.
Emily wasn’t sure what to say to the sudden change of topic and was saved by her mother continuing, “Make sure and answer the phone, will you? He said he’d call back.”
The blood in Emily’s veins froze. “Who?�
�
“Earl.” Helen’s eyes drifted closed, a frown creasing her brow.
Earl wasn’t calling anyone, Emily knew, but still she glanced over at the phone on the table. Every room in the assisted living came wired for them. She’d debated about paying for the extra expense when she’d moved her mother here. But it had been a good way for the two of them to talk. Her mother still understood an “old-fashioned” phone, whereas cell phones were foreign to her.
Now Emily wasn’t sure it was worth it.
“Did...did you get a call earlier, Mom?” Had someone really called or had Helen imagined it? Helen didn’t answer as she’d fallen asleep.
Getting up quietly, Emily lifted the receiver, and with trembling fingers, dialed to call back the last number.
“Hello?” Drew’s voice was painfully familiar.
Emily bit her tongue and barely resisted the urge to slam the receiver down on the plastic cradle. Damn him. She yanked the cord out of the wall and wound it around the phone. She’d visit Helen more often if that was what it took to keep in touch, but she wasn’t giving that man a way to get to her mother.
With the phone in her hand, she stalked out of the room and headed toward the director’s office. Two steps into the hall, she froze. Wyatt sat casually in the dining room with one of the residents. She’d seen the older man before, but didn’t remember his name. Wyatt was smiling and the old man was talking, his gnarled hands waving in the air. Like old friends.
She’d expected Wyatt to be gone. He didn’t have to stay. She’d call a cab to take her home. She wasn’t helpless.
He laughed at something the old man said and it warmed his face, brightened his eyes. As if he felt her gaze, he turned his head and her breath caught in her throat.
He stood and walked toward her, his smile fading with each step. “What’s the matter?”
She couldn’t even begin to explain Drew to Wyatt. The very idea sent ripples of fear through her.
