“It’s too much, too soon.”
He reached for her hand. “I get it. It’s okay.”
“Thank you.”
“But that doesn’t mean I won’t be spending all my waking hours waiting for the moment I can make it happen again.”
“Michael.”
“Don’t worry. I’d never force the matter. Besides, I enjoyed having you thrust yourself at me.”
“Are you ever going to let me live it down?”
“Not in this century, sweetheart.”
“Michael Zorn, you are a pain.” Her smirk warmed. “But you’re also a very good man.”
“Yeah.” The specter of disappointment blew a raspberry at him. “So people keep telling me.”
He knew Emily meant well. He wouldn’t demean her pain by seizing on it when she was vulnerable. If that meant he was a good man, so be it.
Although her words instilled a measure of pride, a memory sliced into his consciousness, cutting his pride to shreds. Another woman’s voice echoed in his ears, Jane Ashton’s. Her scream reverberated, as if she was in the same room with them, still clutching onto her last breath.
He hadn’t been able to save her and the knowledge of his failure tore him down and made him sweat.
The papers had called him a savior. Emily thought he was a paragon. Shouldn’t he have been able to save Jane then?
Unable to look Emily in the eye any longer, Michael made his excuses and left the room. A big part of him still believed he didn’t deserve to be happy. His logical brain told him he wasn’t at fault, but the little demon inside him disagreed.
As much as he wanted, needed, to move on with his life, he still worried he had no right to be content. Jane would never feel contentedness again. She’d never feel the heat of the sun on her face or the thrill of a new love. She’d never meet her grandkids or hold their hands as they walked to the park. Although he knew deep down he wasn’t at fault for any of that, he couldn’t shake his guilt. She was dead.
And some days, in those dark moments upon wakening, when the loneliness and pain cut so fine, Michael wondered if he deserved to die as well.
***
Later that week, Michael once again measured the space in the kitchen where Emily’s new refrigerator would go. Their sponsor had coughed up a professional grade stainless steel beauty with French doors and a chest freezer to match and he wanted to make sure their renovations accounted for the proper widths and depths. He knew he’d measured correctly the first three times, but he hadn’t gotten a reputation for being finicky with his work for nothing.
Satisfied with the space, he turned and grabbed his water bottle from the counter, taking a long swig.
Emily had kissed him.
No matter how hard he’d thrown himself into his work, no matter how many days had elapsed, he couldn’t forget the profound reaction his body had to her. Everything in him had stiffened and relaxed at the same time. He’d grown hard with desire but had surrendered to her in that moment. One touch of her lips and hope took residence in his chest, almost replacing the despair that had burrowed there for so long.
“Now who’s a poet?” he muttered to himself.
Determined to clear his head, he walked into the future store area to make sure none of his crew were having issues.
Glancing out the front window, he spotted Emily on the walkway, talking to someone hidden by the equipment trailer.
She took a few agitated steps and the person followed.
It was Trent.
Michael tossed his empty water bottle to the floor and dashed toward the front door.
“Whoa. Is someone towing your truck?” Eli jumped out of his way.
He wouldn’t interfere. He just wanted to make sure Em was okay. However, all his good intentions flew out the window when he whipped open the front door and planted himself on the porch. It took all his strength not to puff out his chest and warn the other male away with a roar.
