Petra knocks on the door. “Emerson, the reporter from theTimesis here. You coming or not?”
“New York.”
West rakes his fingers through my hair and holds the back of my head steady as he kisses me again. “You’ll be in New York, and I’ll be in New York.”
“Looks that way.”
“Emerson?” Petra yells.
“I’ll call,” West promises, and I know he’s committing to more than a phone call. When we’re both in New York, he wants to try again. He wants to be together.
I don’t have a single reason not to believe him.
31
Present Day
“Are you okay?”West’s low voice is halfway to panic as he unbuckles his seat belt and leans over the console to check me for injuries. He runs his hand over my forehead and down my neck, where it settles.
“I think so. Just a little out of breath.”
Curls fall across his brow as he leans closer, looking disturbed beyond belief. His hand stays heavy on my neck, like he’s afraid that if he moves it, I’ll disappear.
“I swear I’m fine. The airbags didn’t even deploy.”
“Are you sure? You could be in shock.” He holds my chin between his fingers and gently turns my head left and right.
“Hey.” I rest my hand on his cheek until his eyes meet mine. “If anyone here is in shock, it’s not me.”
He closes his eyes for a moment, and he almost looks like he’s in pain. Just when I’m starting to worry, he opens them again and blows out a breath, shaking off his alarm and entering problem-solving mode. The rain is still coming down heavily, and the truck is stuck in a ditch. The front end hit asaguaro, which I’m pretty sure is a crime, but it seems like a bad time to mention it. From inside the vehicle, it’s hard to tell how badly the truck has been damaged.
West braves the storm to check it out and comes back a few minutes later, soaked from head to toe. “We have two flat tires, but other than that, the damage looks cosmetic. I’ll call a tow truck.”
The operator tells him that because of the storm and our location, it might be a few hours before someone can come out to help us. West decides to change one of the flats out for his spare and see if he can flag down someone who will lend us another just long enough to get the truck to the nearest repair shop.
“Can I help?” I ask.
“Do you know how to change a flat tire?”
“I can’t even remember the last time I drove a car.”
“New Yorkers.” He shakes his head. “Hang out in here. Hopefully it won’t take long.”
I pick upDroughtoff the floor. “At least I have something new to read. Or I can use it to defend myself against the next coyote.”
Confusion flickers in West’s brow. “What do you mean?”
“Your book is a brick.”
He frowns.
“That’s not an insult. It feels substantial and oh so very serious. I know that’s important to you lit-fic guys.” I recklessly inch closer to our unspoken past.
“You haven’t read it?”
“It was stolen goods, West. What was I to do?”
“No. I’m talking about before. I thought…” He shakes his head. “I thought there was a chance that you already had.”
