Page 30 of All I Need (Hearts of the South)
“Yeah.” He rested his head on the plush couch back and stared at the ceiling.
“He’s right.” Bennett propped his hands behind his head. His cell buzzed, and he tugged it from his pocket and tapped out a reply to a text. “You might better start formulating a plan for what you’re going to say when she gets here, though. They just left Valdosta.”
“Shit.”
“Hey, what did I tell you about the language?” Troy Lee curved a hand over Christopher’s ear. “I don’t need your help getting in the doghouse, okay? I seem to manage that really well on my own lately.”
Bennett snorted. “Because you’re stupid. Who compares their wife to a Cadillac?”
“What?” Clark stared at Troy Lee, horrified. “Dude, even I know not to say something like that to a woman.”
“It wasn’t like that.” A hint of uncharacteristic desperation entered Troy Lee’s voice. Christopher stirred against his chest, and Troy Lee shifted the little boy onto his shoulder to pat his back.
“Tell us what it was like,” Clark said. He gestured at Emmett. “Maybe it’ll make him feel better. Or we can help you figure a way out of it.”
“Oh, there’s no getting out of this one.” Bennett’s chuckle rumbled deep from his chest.
Troy Lee flipped him off. “Angel’s been exhausted lately and she’s stressing over not losing the baby weight yet. I couldn’t care less, right—I like her curvy. I suggested we work out together, maybe get a gym membership because—”
“You’re an idiot.” Clark laughed.
“—because that might help with the fatigue and we’d be spending some time together without the kids.” Troy Lee rubbed a hand over his jaw. “She got mad and said something about being surrounded by gym bunnies with zero body fat. I pointed out they were like race cars, built for speed and show, and she was more like a Caddy, built for performance and comfort. I doubt she’s said three words to me in the last two days, and they weren’t ‘I love you’.”
“Bennett’s right.” Clark gestured at Emmett. “We have a better chance of getting him out of the mess he’s in.”
Emmett couldn’t find any humor in the situation. He rotated his head to look at Bennett. “What do I do, man? You know her better than I do.”
A slight frown drew Bennett’s brows together. “Your best bet is to pin her down and make her talk it out. Amy—when Amy’s mad, she makes sure I know it, we fight it out, we make up, and everything’s good. Savannah holds it all in, glosses it over with sarcasm, and dodges dealing with it. That used to drive—”
He covered whatever he’d been about to say with a cough. “Try to get her to talk it out.”
Over the next forty minutes or so, Emmett attempted to let Georgia’s poor performance on the field distract him. He had to apologize, but that didn’t mean she had to forgive him. And to even begin to explain his behavior, he was going to have to lay out how he was starting to feel about her. Somehow, he had a sinking feeling those emotions were not going to work in his favor.
His impending defeat was about as apparent as Georgia’s at halftime, with the score at 30 to 3 in ’Bama’s favor. The dread grew with every minute, tying him further into knots. Each knot sang tightly with tension when the back door opened, and his ears picked up a familiar female voice.
“Amy, seriously. I want to go home.” Weariness and annoyance roughened Savannah’s tone.
“Hang out with us for a little while,” a softer voice answered. “Georgia’s losing, and you know how Rob will be.”
A grin quirked at Bennett’s mouth. Emmett’s stomach hurt, stress clenching his chest, and he considered the very real possibility he’d throw up. He edged forward on the couch. What was he thinking? She hadn’t replied to either of his texts earlier; he knew she didn’t want to talk to him, let alone see him—
Her low oath interrupted his tangled thoughts. Her footsteps slapped against the kitchen floor, and he scrambled from the sofa the best he could. Ignoring the cramp that wanted to grab his thigh, he sidestepped Bennett’s startled wife with a terse “excuse me” and followed Savannah out the side door. She was halfway down the drive when he closed the door behind him.
“Savannah, wait.”
Her shoulders tensed, and she whirled to face him. “What are you doing here?”
“Listen to me.” He held up both hands when she narrowed her eyes—swollen and red, he could see now—and opened her mouth to protest. “Please.”
“Listen to what? Another accusation that I’m sleeping around?” Her chin tilted in angry defiance. This close, he noticed the way stress tightened the line of her mouth and the shadows of a sleepless night lingered beneath her brown eyes. Remorse seized his chest with a tight hand. Why the hell hadn’t he slowed down to see that this morning? Oh, yeah, because when mad and hurt collided for him, he never stopped to think. She crossed her arms over her chest. “Do you really think that of me?”
“I was jealous.” The quiet admission fell between them. “I wasn’t thinking at all. I just reacted. It was stupid, I hurt you, and I’m sorry.”
A small, scoffingpfftescaped her lips. “You did not hurt me.”
She was lying, and they both knew it. Some instinct whispered that calling her bluff would be a huge mistake. He rested his hands at his hips and gazed into guarded brown eyes. “We can’t be friends, Savannah.”
“What?” She frowned, shaking her head at the sudden change of topic.
