Let It Be Me (Men of the Misfit Inn Book 1)

by Kait Nolan

  Emerson had been flattered at the time, happy to have the validation for everything she’d done. But now… She looked to her daughter. “That’s not what you meant, though. Is it?”

  Fiona shrugged her uninjured shoulder. “I can’t imagine being the kind of parent you’ve been. Or Mom, either. You’ve both given so much to me, and I can’t fathom doing that. I have too many things I want to do, places I want to go. And I want love. If I can’t have it all, I want that.”

  Heart twisting so hard it ached, Emerson pressed a hand to her chest. “You think you can’t have love and career and family?”

  “I mean…it’s not exactly the norm in our society. And I definitely haven’t had up close and personal examples. It seems like you can do one or two things well, but not everything.”

  Emerson opened her mouth to argue and, seeing Paisley’s pursed lips, shut it again. Wasn’t that exactly what she was telling Fiona with her own actions? She hadn’t been transparent about the relationship in the first place, and at the first major challenge, she’d balked, leaning into fear instead of into Caleb. Not trusting in the relationship they’d developed. Because she’d drunk the Kool-aid that she had to be one or the other and choosing anything other than her child simply didn’t compute.

  “The fact is, kid, you can have everything. But not all by yourself. You can have kids and career if you have the love, if that love is a partnership, where you prop each other up in your weak spots and make a stronger unit together. Which is what I thought Emerson was building with Caleb.” Paisley’s expression was caught somewhere between disgust and pity. “You weren’t supposed to be the dumbass in this love story. You narrate romance, for Pete’s sake. You’re supposed to know better. To recognize the unicorn and appreciate him for the awesome rarity of his kind, not throw him away.”

  Emerson had thrown him away. All the hundreds of tiny, thoughtful gestures, all the ways he’d made her life and Fiona’s better. She’d squandered them all. He’d given her nothing but constancy and love, and she’d rejected him.

  Tears erupted hot and fast, spilling down her face as her shoulders shook.

  Fiona glared at Paisley as she moved over to wrap her good arm around Emerson’s shoulder. “Too much. You broke her.”

  “No. She broke herself. This is part of the process. She recognizes that she fucked up. Once she’s had a good cry, then we brainstorm how she’s going to fix it.”

  “I don’t…think…it can…be…fixed,” Emerson hiccuped.

  “Do you love him?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you still want a life with him?”

  More than anything. “Yes.”

  “Then there’s a better-than-average chance we can repair the damage.”

  “Do you really think he’ll forgive me?”

  “That man is hopelessly in love with you, and two weeks of you being an idiot shouldn’t be enough to erase more than four years of devotion. And if it is, he isn’t the unicorn I believe him to be.” Paisley moved to the freezer and pulled out the Moose Tracks ice cream. “We don’t have time to wait for the cupcakes. Fi, grab the tissues.”

  They huddled around her with ice cream and Kleenex as she cried herself dry. Emerson didn’t eat much of the ice cream, but she appreciated the gesture and the feeling of unity. When she’d finished her weeping, she mopped her face. Someone shoved a bottle of water in her hand.

  “Okay, oh wise one, how are we going to fix this?”

  Paisley finally slipped the cupcakes in the oven. “Traditionally, the bigger the screw up, the bigger the grand gesture. How do you feel about flash mobs?”

  Emerson was saved from replying to that ludicrous suggestion by the ringing of her phone. Snatching it up, her heart fell the moment she saw it wasn’t Caleb’s name on the screen. Not recognizing the number, she almost sent it to voicemail, but some niggling sense had her hesitating. Pushing past the whisper of unease, she hit answer.

  “Hello?”

  “Emerson?”

  “Yes?”

  “It’s Kyle Keenan.”

  That threw her. Why on earth was Caleb’s brother calling her? “How did you get my number?” Realizing that sounded a little rude, she backtracked. “Sorry. I wasn’t expecting to hear from you.”

  She expected him to laugh a little, maybe make a joke. The silence on the line spun out two beats. Three. In the background she heard the muted sound of a PA system. Though she didn’t catch actual words in the announcement, she recognized the tone—that brisk, neutral professionalism that saved and shattered lives behind a thin screen of medical jargon and codes.

  The whisper inside her turned into a scream. Her fingers tightened around the phone. “Kyle, what’s going on?”

  “I—Listen, I know things between you and Caleb are weird right now but…I had to call you. I didn’t want you to find out from somewhere else.”

  Her voice shook and the blood drained from her face, already anticipating the blow. “Find out what?”

  He sucked in a long breath. “There’s been an accident.”

  Chapter 16

  Emerson’s voice pulled Caleb up from the murky depths of fragmented dreams. He listened for a moment but couldn’t make himself focus on the words of the book he’d gone to sleep to. He’d have to start it over again because he’d obviously slept through the beginning. But moving felt like a whole helluva lot of effort.

  Everything hurt. His head felt like a gong, vibrating with pain, and he wasn’t entirely sure some sadist hadn’t performed a body transplant and attached his head to the body of an eighty-something old dude. What the hell kind of hangover was this? Had he broken his rule? He had dim memories of Kyle giving him shit and some lousy advice. Had they gotten shit-faced? He couldn’t remember.

  It wasn’t worth the effort to stop the book. He’d just start it over later. Now, he’d sleep. Sleep would sweep away the hangover—at least for a little while.

  Except, there was that beeping. What was that? Answering machine? Did anybody even have those anymore? Was it an alarm for something? Maybe the batteries needed changing in the smoke alarm or the carbon monoxide detector. In which case, he was fucked because climbing a ladder right now felt about as doable as climbing Everest.

  “I don’t know how to do this without you, Caleb.”

  The sound of his own name in that tear-choked voice had him stopping the sink back into oblivion. That wasn’t part of a book.

  “I made it through the last two times because you were there. Even when I tried to push you away, you stuck by me. But I don’t know how to do this on my own. Not when you’re the one who was hurt.”

  Hurt? What the hell was she talking about?

  Flashes of memory lit up his brain like strobe lights. A fire. Breaching the building. Combing the halls of the upper floors looking for victims. Roof caving. Then nothing.

  Maybe this headache wasn’t from alcohol.

  Caleb fought to move past it, but the weight of the ache was like trying to shove a locked steel door with his bare hands.

  “The doctors say it’s good that you’re unconscious. That the body heals better that way. But are they really going to say anything else? It’s a reality that there’s a point where the sleep isn’t healing. Where the longer you’re out, the greater the chance you won’t wake up. They won’t tell me where you fall on that continuum. Hell, it’s not like they’re telling me anything at all. If not for Kyle, I’d be completely in the dark. He’s gone home to shower. But he’ll be back.”

  Huh. How the hell long had he been out?

  “You’ll probably be pissed at him for telling me. Actually, if he hadn’t, Pru would have called me. They’ve all kept in close touch. But don’t be angry with them. If you’re going to be pissed at anybody, be pissed at me. I deserve it. At this point, I’d welcome you yelling at me. The deal is, you have to wake up to do it.”

  Caleb could sense movement off to his left. There was a faint whisper of a touch, a ripple along the bed, as
if she’d pressed a hand into the mattress just beside his hand. Or where he thought his hand was. He couldn’t quite tell where his edges were at the moment. But why wouldn’t she touch him?

  “I don’t know what to do with your silence since Fi’s accident. And that’s so stupid. You were just doing what I asked.” She sucked in a shaky breath. “I wish you hadn’t listened to me. The last couple of weeks have been awful. I can’t sleep. Don’t want to eat. Sometimes it’s even hard to breathe. I kept thinking you’d come through the back door and tell me time was up and we were going to talk about this. It’s what I should have done instead of pushing you away.”

  She’d have been okay with that? Damn it, he’d miscalculated. He should have indulged himself. Should have gone over. Made her face what was between them. Instead, he’d stayed away, and now he was here in what was apparently a hospital bed, and his fucking body didn’t want to cooperate.

  “I know I hurt you. All you’ve ever been is wonderful to me. The truth is, Fiona’s accident terrified me. It felt like this big warning from the Universe—don’t dream too big. Don’t forget your responsibilities. Don’t think you can have it all because I can take it all away in a blink.”

  You can have it all. I’m going to give it to you. If only you’ll let me.

  Her voice softened. “I got scared. I thought it would be easier to go back to doing everything alone because I didn’t risk as much. But I realized by sending you away, I was risking everything. Since you came into my life, I’ve never been truly alone. Because you were always, always there. I didn’t recognize how much I counted on that, trusted in that, until you weren’t there. And I’ve hated every minute of it.”

  Me too. Caleb flexed his lips, trying to get them around the words. But Emerson kept going.

  “Paisley and Fiona already reamed me for being an idiot. We were working on a plan for how to fix it. According to Paisley, the level of the grand gesture required is directly proportionate to the level of stupid perpetrated by the offending party. She was talking flash mob when Kyle called. Seriously. Can you imagine that happening outside the fire station?”

  There was an edge of smile in her voice. Not a real one. But that fake, I’m-trying-to-hold-my-shit-together-and-keep-talking-because-the-silence-and-the-beep-of-monitors-is-too-scary smile. Caleb held on to that sound as he fought to lift the concrete slabs impersonating his eyelids.

  “It’s totally crazy. You’ve met me. I can’t dance. And yet, I’d do it for you without hesitation. I’ll do anything for you, if only you’ll wake up. I can’t—” Her voice hitched, throat clogged with more tears. “I can’t lose you. And I need you to fucking wake up so I can tell you all this properly. I need you to wake up so I can tell you how much I love you and beg you to forgive me.”

  She loved him. He’d known it, deep down, but now she’d said it and the words were like a power boost in a video game. Light and energy rushed along his limbs, helping him fight back the darkness that wanted to drag him back down. Some monitor beeped a little faster. He was going to break the fucking surface if it was the last thing he did because Emerson loved him and she needed to know he was here and okay.

  His eyes opened to slits. The blurry swatch of room didn’t tell him much, but he recognized Emerson’s shape hunched over the side of his bed, crying, with her face pressed into the mattress.

  With herculean effort, he shifted his fingers the couple of inches over to where hers curled on the blanket, hooking the pinky that weighed eight tons over hers.

  Emerson bolted upright. “Caleb?”

  “Mar—” His voice sounded like a rusted-out transmission grinding gears. Swallowing against the cotton in his throat, he tried again. “Marry You.”

  “What?” she gasped.

  “Bru—no Mars. For the flash…mob.”

  Then she was laughing and crying and pressing kisses to his bandaged hand. “You’re awake. Oh thank God, you’re awake.” Her words poured out in a flood. “I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry for everything. I love you. I should have told you before, but I’m telling you now. I love you. And if you want a flash mob with Bruno Mars’ ‘Marry You’, then I’ll find a way to pull that off.”

  Caleb tried to grin at that. His head felt like it was going to tip off its axis any moment now, but Emerson Aldridge loved him. He could survive anything knowing that. “Would be fun. But just want to actually marry you. How’s next week?”

  Emerson stared down at him. “Are you seriously coming out of a coma proposing?”

  A coma? Shit, that was probably bad. But he’d sort that out later. This was more important. “Not letting you get away again.”

  More tears glimmered in her eyes. But there was something else there, too. Something that looked a lot like hope. “It’s not fair of me to say yes. You have a head injury.”

  He scowled and instantly regretted it as pain rippled across his face and skull. “It’s not the head injury. I love you.”

  Very gently, Emerson cupped his cheek, her slightly blurry faces resolving into one. “I love you, too.”

  “Say yes.”

  “Caleb.”

  “Marry me, Emerson. I still want the fantasy. Tell me you do, too.”

  “Yes.” Her throat worked as she swallowed. “But if you change your mind after the concussion heals, I’ll understand.”

  “I’m not changing my mind.” And as soon as he got out of here, he was going shopping for a ring. Maybe Kyle would drive. “How long have I been out?”

  “Forty-six hours and twenty-odd minutes. I would just like to go on record that nobody else ever gets to tell me ‘There was an accident’ again. I have reached my lifetime quota of being scared shitless.”

  “That’s fair.” He hoped like hell the Universe got the memo.

  “I should get the doctor.” She pressed the call button, then leaned over, brushing a soft kiss over his dry, cracked lips. “I love you, Caleb.”

  He was still grinning as the door opened behind her.

  Emerson turned to address the newcomer. “He’s awake!”

  A nurse hurried around to the other side of the bed. “Welcome back, Mr. Romero.”

  “She said yes.”

  The nurse paused, glancing from him to Emerson. “Who said yes to what?”

  “Emerson said she’d marry me.”

  Another look at Emerson. “Congratulations.”

  “I want it in my chart, on record. No takesies backsies.”

  The strict mask of professionalism cracked. “I’ll see what I can do.”

  “We could skip the party.” Caleb’s voice dropped into that sexy, cajoling tone that told Emerson exactly what he thought they should be doing instead.

  Grateful she had something to occupy her hands, she put on some earrings and hoped he didn’t notice the shaking in her hands. “We are not skipping the party. Everybody wants to see you hale and hearty, even if you haven’t been cleared for full duty yet. It’s good for station morale.” That was her story, and she was sticking to it. At least until they got there and the plan she’d been working on for weeks finally unfolded.

  Emerson hoped like hell it went off the way she’d planned.

  Caleb slid his hands around her waist, pulling her back against his chest and brushing a kiss to the side of her neck. “Staying home would be good for my morale. I got cleared for that, too.”

  “I am aware.” She’d lost count of all the let’s-play-doctor jokes he’d been making since she brought him home from the hospital to convalesce.

  He could have moved back into his own place after the first couple of weeks, but neither of them wanted that. More and more of his stuff had migrated over in the weeks since. Between him and Fiona, she had a full house—and for now, she liked it that way. The people she loved were safe and healing. It would be a while before she’d be able to let go of her Mother Hen routine. The hyper-vigilance left her exhausted most of the time. But that would fade as everything settled back to their new normal. And after the ho
lidays, she really needed to get a handle on this whole self-medicating with ice cream thing before she had to buy all new pants.

  In response to the pout, she pivoted in the circle of his arms, framing his face. “Later. If you’re not too tired.”

  “I’m never too tired.” His tone was full of promise as his hands skimmed down to curve around her ass.

  “You were in a coma a matter of weeks ago.” Emerson was pretty sure the whole ordeal had shaved more years off her life than his.

  “It was less than two days. That was practically a nap.”

  She stared him down, pointing to her face. “You see this face? This is my not amused face.” As he opened his mouth to argue, she shifted the point to him. “And don’t you dare say it was just a bump on the head.”

  The double-barreled dimples flashed. “If I pretend to be more of an invalid, will you be my naughty nurse?”

  Fiona’s voice sounded from down the hall. “Quit trying to talk her into bed. Party now, bang later.”

  That put an effective stop to Caleb’s wheedling. “I think maybe I liked it better when she didn’t know we were together.”

  “There were definitely benefits. Come on. We’re going to be late.”

  “You sure you want to wear that ivory dress? The chances of the menu consisting of chili, barbeque, spaghetti, or some other food involving a tomato-based sauce is high.”

  “I’m living on the wild side.” She turned away before he could look closer and see the nerves. Pulling this whole thing off depended on her keeping cool, calm, and collected and him not suspecting a thing.

  Downstairs, Fiona was already headed for the garage. “I’m driving myself. Meet you there!”

  “Should she be doing that?” Caleb asked.

  “The doctor cleared her to drive. She’s got to start sometime, and I’d rather her do it on a three-mile stretch in town than all the way cross Nashville. She’s so happy to be out of the sling, finally.” Plus, if things went according to plan, she’d be spending the night elsewhere tonight.