Page 98 of All I Need (Hearts of the South)
This was the kind of Saturday she wanted forever, simply doing ordinary life and being wrapped up in the security of his loving her.
She sat up and stretched. His crooning grew closer, and he appeared from the office, empty tumbler in hand. He smiled. “Hey, you’re awake. Want something to drink?”
“I’m good, thanks.” She watched him walk into the kitchen, the music and warmth of his presence wrapping around her in a swirl of long-forgotten happiness. “Are you making progress?”
“One section and the works cited left.” He joined her on the couch and set his half-full tumbler aside. He laid his arm along the back of the sofa and toyed with her hair. “I don’t care if I ever see an APA handbook again.”
She slid her hands under his T-shirt to rest at his waist, beneath the compression bandage. “How’s your back?”
“Sore as hell.” He grimaced. “That’s the only reason I took a break. Needed to move. I did figure out that whole rooting-for-the-same-team issue, though.”
“Really?” She leaned in to press a kiss to his throat. “Do tell.”
He stroked his palm along her outer thigh. “We bet on the point spread.”
“That works.” She laughed into the curve of his shoulder. They were so good together, and he made it so easy to love him that she—
She stilled and pulled back so she could see his eyes. He stiffened, his own gaze shuttering at whatever he saw in her face. That lost expression, the tension invading his body as if preparing for a blow, broke her heart.
“Em.” His name fell from her lips on a shattered whisper.
“Savannah.” A hint of desperation shook his voice. “It’s okay, you don’t have to.”
God, she’d been so selfish. She’d refused to see that what he needed and she refused to give him was the very thing she was taking from him. Instead, she’d let him love her while she’d clung to the ridiculous false safety of wanting and needing, all the while pretending that he wasn’t the love in the new life she’d made with him.
“I’m so sorry,” she murmured, taking his face in her hands. “I love you, Emmett.”
“I know.” He cringed, a pained groan strangling in his throat, and closed his eyes. “I saw it in your face the night of the shooting.”
And he thought it was the end, that this meant she would run out on him once she realized that love herself. He believed she would choose protecting herself before she chose him. Her loving him looked more like a curse than a gift to him, and she had no one to blame for that but herself.
“I’m not going anywhere.” She smoothed her fingers down his jaw. “Em, please, let me love you.”
His lashes lifted, revealing confusion and fear lingering in his blue eyes.
“I don’t know what to do, what to say, to make you believe,” she whispered, her gaze locked on his. She couldn’t make him any promises because he of all people knew how empty those could be. “If I do every day with you, love you every day, then will you believe?”
He tangled one hand in her hair and pressed her face to the curve between his neck and shoulder. “I want to believe, Savannah, I do. God help me, you don’t know how much. I don’t know how.”
Fine tremors shook him, and she rested her palms against his shoulder blades. She turned her face into his neck and inhaled, letting him invade all of her senses. “We’ll do today, then we’ll do tomorrow. And then we’ll see where we are.”
* * * * *
“I really think people would understand if you backed out.” Savannah eyed Emmett from the passenger seat. He pulled the truck into a spot to the side of the red brick church as if it were reserved for him.
“Savannah, I’m good. It’s one song.” He killed the engine and smiled at her. “The old ladies love me, and I’d like to keep it that way. The board of deacons onlythinkthey wield the power.”
“The old ladies don’t have anything to say about your church attire?” She loved the way he looked, neat and casual in jeans, Reefs, and a white ironed buttondown, the cuffs turned back and the shirt left untucked, but she could see how some traditional churchgoers would object to that level of casual. A little unsure about going to church with him for the first time, she’d defaulted to a simple black skirt and teal top, paired with the heels he loved and the opal earrings he’d given her.
“The old-lady brigade knows it matters more what’s in my heart than what’s on my body when I walk through the door. Some of our deacons haven’t learned that yet.”
On that note, he slid from the driver’s seat and walked around to open her door. Well-worn Bible in one hand, he took her hand with the other and laced their fingers together. They walked across the paved lot toward glossy white front doors. She searched for a hint of nervousness, but found only peace, a sweet surety that she was in the right place with the right man.
Yesterday had been football and finding their way through a new paradigm. Today was worshipping together. Tomorrow would be ordinary life again, and somehow, she knew on one of those tomorrows, he’d find his faith in them.
Inside the foyer, people mingled in small groups, laughter and light chatter filling the space. A handful greeted them along the way to the sanctuary.
“I think you might have exaggerated the whole they-won’t-let-us-in-church-on-Sunday angle.” She murmured the words near his ear as he held the sanctuary door for her.
