My head is as heavy as a cinder block when I lift it to lean back against the seat and let my eyes close for just a moment. Filling my lungs with air, I reach into my reserves, coming up empty, but pushing the door open and forcing myself from the car anyway.
Gravel scatters under my heavy feet as I trudge to my front door. I stumble when my toe catches on the second step, peeling paint scraping my palms.
“Awesome.”
By the time I make it inside, my legs are shaking. I lean against the wall long enough to toe off my shoes, my calf knotting painfully from the effort.
I sniff hard, refusing to cry this close to victory.
Shower and bed, that’s the prize.
On autopilot, I drop my purse on the counter and shuffle toward my bedroom.
Halfway down the hall, the faint hiss of running water finally cuts through my brian fog.
I stop.
Then relief hits so hard my knee almost buckle.
Emmett.
It feels like days since sweet, stubborn, coffee-bringing Emmett walked out of the hospital doors. I’d hoped he’d wait, that I’d come out to find him pacing. But his half-healed ass walked home. Apparently one near-death experience wasn’t enough for this man.
Some of the tension leaves my shoulders as I keep walking.
Then another sound slips through—a low vibration.
“Oh, come on.”
So help me, if my plumbing picks now to act up I don’t think I’d survive it. The plumber is already behind, thanks to his paternity leave, and at this rate, I’m going to end up bathing in the river with the moose.
I collapse in a heap on my bed, assigning homeowner problems to be dealt with by future Aspen and closing my eyes.
A loud thump from the bathroom startles me. Then a deep, guttural groan follows the crash. I’m off the bed before my tired brain catches up, guilt hitting hard as I sprint for the bathroom.
I shouldn’t have left Emmett to his own devices while dealing with Jeremiah.
He overdid it.
Of course he overdid it. He walked home angry and now he’s lying on my shower floor with a head injury.
Shouldering the door open, I skip knocking.
Steam curls around me as I step inside and then, I freeze.
Emmett’s standing tall and broad on the other side of the frosted glass.
Uninjured and oblivious.
A whimper slows everything to a stop.
And I mean everything—my feet, my heart. Time and the Earth’s rotation grind to a halt as the scene in front of me unfolds.
Emmett’s bicep and back strains as he pumps out a spellbinding rhythm. He’s turned just so, giving him some cover, but there’s no question where his hand is.
Somehow, not being able to see all of him makes my heart thrash harder in my chest.
He’s as consumed by the chase as I am by what I’m witnessing.
