Such a long, agonizing hell of a night.
I peek out the window, relieved to see the first hint of sunrise.
Finally.
As soon as that motherfucker is up and shining, I can quit trying to pretend that I’m getting rest.I can just get my ass up for the day and be done with it.But not a second before sunrise.Because anything before that will be an admission that the woman down the hall—nothing more than a waif, really—has prevented me from sleeping.
Well, the thought of her, anyway.The knowledge that she’s in my home.Near my daughter.Near me.Breathing the air I’m breathing.
It’s driving me crazy.
Iknewthis was a mistake.
That’s why I fought Phyllis on it yesterday.But then I agreed to a week trial period and decided there couldn’t be any harm in introducing Emma to Jasmine.Phyllis and I agreed that for the time being, one of us would always be in the room with the two of them.
It’s not that I get a negative vibe from Emma.Not it at all.It’s just that I don’t know her.She’s a stranger.And it’s obvious that the girl has seen some shit—she looks almost haunted, hollowed out.
Not by drugs or booze.She looks hollowed out by hard times.
And there’s a part of me that feels sorry for her.
Charity is great, but I’ll still be asking Evander to run a full background check on her first thing.I’ll tell him to use the private security firm we have on retainer for StellaR Tech business, for checking out potential subcontractors and vendors.
And yes, we also had that firm look around in Victoria’s life when we suspected her of less-than-legit motives.
I wince at that memory.Holy shit, did she get pissed off at us for that.Not long after, she dropped Cal’s ass and left on the first thing smokin’ to San Diego.
Hey, no harm, right?It all worked out.They got married last night, didn’t they?
But this thing with Emma… I’d really hoped Jasmine would be the one to put an end to Phyllis’s sinister plot.I believed my daughter would be horrified at the idea of an interloper invading our playhouse.
Unfortunately, that’s not how it went down.Jasmine loved her.She was so excited at having a houseguest that she couldn’t stop asking questions of poor exhausted Emma.But Emma smiled and was sweet and patient and told Jasmine they’d talk more in the morning.
So, Jasmine didn’t save us from the playhouse interloper, and I had to withstand theI told you solook Phyllis gave me as she left for the night.
I’m not nuts.It’s the truth.This is our sacred space.
For eight years now, since the day Jasmine was born, we’ve created our own private playhouse, no matter where we lived.Our home was where we played and laughed and figured things out together.Yes, we’ve had the love and support of Dad, Aunt Phyllis, my brothers, and our wider Navy family.
And more recently, that safety net has extended to Victoria and the families we know from Jasmine’s school.And to Summer, Joe, and the other ranch hands.Even Victoria’s assistant, Millicent.Yosemite Ranch itself.And Phoebe Travis from the next ranch over, who worked as Evander’s nurse while he recovered from a gnarly compound leg fracture.
The one he got when he tried to break one of my colts while wearing a pair of Italian loafers and a three-piece suit.Dumbass.
I swing my legs over the side of my bed, trying to regain my train of thought.Where was I?
Right.
Emma Clark.Interloper.Trespasser.
This house—the home Jasmine and I share—is our creation.We built it out of the love we have for one another and the love we’ve received from our support system.We built it on a foundation of tragedy that we’ve managed to turn into joy.
I would defend our playhouse with my last breath.
Breathe.
In four.Hold four.Out four.Hold four.Repeat.
Yet again, I think of Emma down the hall in the four-poster bed, asleep.I bet she’s breathing in there.Of course she is.And if she isn’t, I’ve got bigger problems.
