Page 64 of Tasting Fire
Nodding toward the sheriff’s department, Cash said, “Or do you want everyone inside that building and in this parking lot to see me pick you up and put you in the passenger seat?”
“Do not play caveman with me. It’s not cute, and it’s damn well not funny.”
“I asked one of the OR nurses to call and let me know when Jesse is out of surgery. And then when he can have visitors. She hasn’t called. Now, let me take you home.”
God, how could she want to hurl Cash across the asphalt and hug him all at the same time? She didn’t want to be taken care of. Somehow that smacked of Oliver’s subtle patronization. At the same time, she knew that wasn’t Cash’s intent. She was unsteady on her feet and he recognized it.
She gave him the keys, but rebuffed him when he tried to walk around and open her door. “I’ve got it.”
When they parked in front of the Murchison building, both floors were dark except for the faint glow of a lamp she’d left on upstairs. Normally, she loved coming home to such a unique location, but tonight it looked empty. Lonely.
A lot like she felt. Maybe that’s what trying to be her serious best got her. Nothing.
“I know you don’t need me to take care of you,” Cash said gently as they both looked at the building instead of one another. “But I’d like to come up and make sure you can get some rest.”
Arguing would just deplete Emmy even more, and the truth was, she didn’t want to be alone, replaying the scenario from earlier. Jesse reaching into his pocket, her shouting a warning, McGarvey shooting…
“My couch is your couch,” she said.
He nodded once, making it clear he understood that everything they’d talked about while climbing the water tower was on indefinite hold.
Because how could she even consider enjoying herself, losing herself in Cash’s body when a boy’s life was at stake?
To his credit, Cash didn’t try to put his arms around her or even talk to her. When she arrowed directly for the bathroom, he turned his attention to making up the couch.
Twenty minutes and gallons of hot water later, Emmy wrung out her hair and caught her reflection in the bathroom mirror. Pale, hollow-eyed. Like an underfed, depressed vampire.
Not exactly the evening she’d imagined when she was riding Cash’s lap on the water tower landing. Instead, she’d pictured skin and bodies and mouths. Sighs and moans and, knowing them, more than a little laughter.
In the past, she’d never resented when a call-out stole time away from her personal life. In truth, she didn’t resent it now. Because Cash understood, craved the same life-and-death experiences she did.
But she was deflated that her day of fun had turned into something resembling a sick and twisted funhouse.
A knock came from the other side of the door. “Em, I made some chamomile tea and put it by your bed. It should help you sleep.”
Where in the world had he gotten chamomile tea? She hadn’t stocked it in the apartment’s small kitchen.
Just one more way that Cash Kingston was a good man.
“If you need anything—more tea, to talk, anything—I’ll be out on the couch.”
Some women would feel abandoned by a man leaving her alone. Not Emmy. It made her realize just how much Cash understood her. Understood that nagging her or forcing her to talk would send her running in the other direction.
Smart, stealthy man.
He was right. The tea did help her drift off, probably because he’d filled half the cup with something decidedly alcoholic. But three hours later, Emmy opened her eyes and patted the bedside table for her phone. She thumbed into her texts and found one from the OR nurse.
Jesse is out of surgery. Resting comfortably. Can have visitors tomorrow.
She could go now, just check on him. Maybe sweet-talk the nurses on call into letting her see his chart.
No. Dr. Patel was a great surgeon. If Jesse was resting, Emmy needed to wait until tomorrow. Hopefully by then, he would be awake and she could apologize.
But God, there were too many hours between now and then.
A chill wove its way through the room. It was that in-between time of the year when the heat didn’t always kick on, but cold seemed to permeate the brick and seep inside.
Emmy got out of bed and wrapped herself in the comforter. As she walked toward the living room, it trailed behind her like a down-filled wedding train.
Moonlight bled in through the window where she’d reveled in the sunshine less than twenty-four hours ago. Its slant fell on the eyesore of a couch and the eye candy of a man sleeping on it.
“Oh, Cash,” she sighed. He’d blurted out that question about children earlier. Things were all out of order and mixed up between them since she’d come home.
Had she complicated Cash’s life, or were things always this damn messy when true love had been interrupted?
