Page 33 of Talk Wicked to Me

I reach over to wake up Gwen, tangled in the blankets beside me, but her father touches my hand and shakes his head. My stomach knots up as I push to my feet. They had a firm lights-out, minds-off rule, and they didn’t appreciate rowdy teens. We’d stayed up late and had giggled an awful lot. I hope they didn’t hear us. I didn’t want to get Gwen into trouble or be told I couldn’t sleep over anymore. I get more nervous as I follow them down the hall.

Gwen’s father puts a hand on my shoulder as we walk into the living room. There are two police officers standing there, one male, one female. I couldn’t be arrested for making too much noise, but I can’t wrap my head around why they’re here. “What’s going on?”

“There’s been an incident. Let’s sit down,” Gwen’s father says, leading me to the couch.

Something in his voice makes my heart race, and I take a better look at the cops. Their faces are grim, and so are Gwen’s parents’. “I don’t want to sit down. What kind of incident?”

“Someone broke into your house while your parents were sleeping. They think your father tried to fight them off, but the man had a gun. I’m sorry, Emerson, but your parents were killed…”

I can’t breathe. “No…No! You’re lying!” I ran for the door and bolted outside, springing down the steps and toward my house. Thunder pounded in my ears as I tore around the corner, screaming, “Mom! Dad!” There was yellow tape all around the steps to our brownstone and a blur of people on the sidewalk. I ran for the steps, but a policeman blocked my way. I punched and fought, needing to prove Gwen’s father wrong. “Let me in! That’s my family! Mom! Dad! Please!”

Someone grabbed me from behind. “Miss! You can’t go in there. They’re gone.”

I thrashed, trying to break free. A baby’s cries rang out in our brownstone, sending agony tearing through me. “Brennan! My baby! I have to get my baby!”

“He’s gone.”

“No!”

Emerson’s eyes flew open, and she sat up, heart racing, tears streaming down her cheeks as Brennan’s cry rang out. It was only a nightmare. He’sokayhe’sokayhe’sokay. She tried to catch her breath, panting out, “It’s okay. You’re okay. I’m here.” She scooped him up, trembling. “Mama’s got you. I’ve got you.” She kissed his cheek, holding him tight. “I’ve got you.” What the hell kind of nightmare was that?

A knock sounded at the front door, and her hopeful heart went straight to Baz. She grabbed a burp rag, chiding herself for hoping it was him, and wiped her eyes on her way to answer the door. She took a few deep breaths and closed her eyes, trying to calm her racing heart. She blew out a breath. “I’m okay. We’re okay.”

She peeked out the sidelight and saw Ginger and a mahogany-haired girl who looked to be around Emerson’s age. It took her a minute to make sense of them being there before she remembered Ginger had said they’d drop off food. The girl waved, and Ginger looked over, smiling and holding up a cooler. Emerson managed a smile and moved away from the window, taking another second to regain control. She breathed deeply, her father’s voice accompanying her efforts. Buck up, Em. You’ve got this. She didn’t allow herself to think about what he’d always said next, because it was too big of a punch to her heart.

She opened the door, trying her best not to look rattled. “Hi.”

“Hi, honey. I hope it’s okay that we stopped by. This is my niece, Madigan. We brought food for the week.”

“Hi,” Madigan said exuberantly. “You can call me Mads.”

“It’s nice to meet you, and this is so generous of you. Come in.” She stepped back, hoping they didn’t pick up on the tremble in her voice.

As they stepped inside, Madigan said, “Don’t worry. I won’t get too close to Brennan. I know he shouldn’t be around too many people, but I had to get a peek at him. He’s beautiful. I love his little mohawk.”

“Thanks. I tried to get his hair to lie down, but it wants to be spiky.” Emerson closed the door.

“We like spiky.” Ginger set down the cooler, brows knitting. “Honey, are you okay? Your hands are shaking, and you look a little pale.”

So much for hoping. Emerson mustered a smile. “I’m fine. Just tired.”

“I bet you are. Being a new mom is hard,” Ginger said. “Why don’t you sit down and let me hold Brennan for a minute? Mads, can you put the food in the freezer and get Emerson a glass of the juice we brought?”

“It’s okay. I can do that,” Emerson said.

“I don’t mind,” Madigan said as she headed for the kitchen with the cooler. “I love your cottage. It’s really cute.”

“Thanks. I should make room in the freezer.” Emerson followed her into the kitchen and opened the freezer.

“I’ve got this,” Madigan insisted, and shooed her out of the kitchen.

“You’re as pushy as Baz,” Emerson said.

“Probably worse. Go sit down and chill.” Madigan started putting the food away, speaking louder to Emerson and Ginger as they headed into the living room. “Do you like where we put Baz’s desk and bookshelves?”

We? “Yes. Were you here? Did you help them fix up my place?”

“I sure did,” Madigan said. “I wasn’t about to let a bunch of guys decide where to put a woman’s things. They mean well, but you know. They’re not us. Thanks for the cookies you sent home with Tobias. They were delicious.”