Page 46 of Saving His Heart
“So, the headsets pick up conversations,” he tells me, amused. “Even scolding, whispered ones. I would, however, be very interested in what kinds of fantasies you just had.”
I feel the creep happening. If you’re an Irish girl like me, you know what I’m talking about. That horrid flush that starts at the tips of your ears and screams across your body like an inferno.
A slight shift in gravity lets me know we have landed, and hopefully will spare me from answering. Instead, I feel like a lead weight has landed on my chest. We just touched down in Camden Crossing. I might be sick.
Chapter 18
Preston
Luckily, George carries Gatorade in the cockpit. By the time I have Emory unbuckled, she is positively green. I’m not sure if it’s from the chopper ride or the fact that I am forcing her to take me along, but she couldn’t get out of there fast enough. As soon as her feet hit the ground, she doubled over. The contents of her breakfast emptied onto the asphalt below our feet.
For the first time in my life, I don’t have the urge to sympathy vomit with her. I stand by her side, rubbing small circles on her back until she’s done.
When she finally stands upright, I meet Emory for the first time. The real Emory. Not Dr. Camden, not the Emory she shows to the world. Today, I’m a witness to the Emory that has insecurities, fears, hopes, and dreams that have nothing to do with her obligations, and it brings me to my knees.
Placing my hand on the side of her face to wipe away the small streak of mascara with my thumb, I ask, “How have I never seen you before?”
As if she realizes it’s more of a rhetorical question, she just stares at me, leaning into my touch ever so slightly.
“Sweetheart—”
“Mr. Westbrook, your car is here, sir. The driver will take you to Rural Route 1, as you requested,” George interrupts. “Also, Seth has been all over the airwaves. He appears to be unhappy you left without security.”
Biting my tongue so I don’t snap at him, I take a deep breath before answering, “Thank you, George. I’ll be in touch soon with our plans for tomorrow, and Seth can fuck off.”
“Yes, sir,” he says before turning and heading back to the chopper. Beyond him, I spot the SUV waiting with its doors open.
Taking Emory’s hand in mine, I watch as her nimble little fingers collapse around mine. It surprises me that such an innocent gesture can heat my blood and have me wanting to beat my chest like a caveman.
After helping her into the SUV, I wait until she settles before I root around the vehicle. Mona knows to always request mints and water, and she doesn’t disappoint this trip either. I find bottles of water and two tins of my favorite mints in the front seat’s pocket. Taking them out, I open them both, handing them in turn to Emory.
Smiling weakly, she says, “Thank you,” before chugging the water, then popping a mint.
I make no attempt to hide the fact that I’m openly staring at her as she angles herself toward the door, leaning her head on the window. I’m out of my element here and don’t know how to proceed. Arrogant playboy Preston would insist she talk, but I’ve known for some time, that’s not who I want to be to her.But what can I be to her?
Mona dutifully sent all the details as I requested, so I know it will be a twenty-minute drive to her dad’s house. I decide it’s best to let her sit in silence for the first half of the ride. Keeping an eye on my watch, I debate how far to push. When ten minutes have passed, I can’t stay silent any longer.
“Emory?” I ask gently, and wait until she looks at me before continuing, “We are going to arrive at your dad’s house soon. Is there anything I should know before we get there? Anything I can do to help?”
I’ve heard sappy assholes say eyes are the windows to people’s souls—it was probably even Dex—but that statement has never held any truth for me until this very moment. Her eyes are distressingly large. They have a ring in the darkest shade of blue surrounding a pool of green and gray speckles, and they are staring at me, begging me. I’m just the asshole that doesn’t know what they’re asking.
“Ems, what do you need, sweetheart? Anything, I’ll do anything, just tell me how to help,” I plead.
“Preston,” she sighs, “this isn’t your fight. I need to go into the house and dump his alcohol. It won’t be pretty, and I don’t want you to see it, okay? I … I just don’t want you anywhere near it. My sister should be across the street. If you really want to help when we get there, you will go over and check on her, but not let her enter my dad’s house. Throwing him in the tank is something I have to do alone. Can you do that?”
“Why, Emory? Why do you have to do it alone?”
“You grew up with loving parents, right? Siblings who always had your back?” she queries.
Feeling my neck prickle again, I pinch it before answering, “I did.”
“And that is great, really it is. Every child should grow up that way, but it’s not how it works for all of us. I started raising my sisters at a very young age, but I took that on, and I will keep taking it on. They were able to have some semblance of normalcy growing up because I did all this. I did the hard stuff. I do the hard stuff. They are all young enough still to be whatever they want, whoever they want. This is my burden to bear. This is my responsibility because the only thing I have ever wanted in my entire life was for my sisters to have better. To have what they deserve, can you understand that?” she asks, and for the first time since my father died, I feel tears pooling at the back of my eyes that have nothing to do with me or my broken heart.
“I’ll do my best, Ems,” I finally manage. “I’ll do my best under the condition that you know from here on out, for as long as I can, I am going to be your person. I want you to experience life without all the weight on your shoulders.”
She rears back as if I struck her, sucking in an audible breath. “Preston, please, please don’t. I don’t need a white knight, and please don’t confuse our pretend with our realities. We come from different worlds, and while I can pretend to fit in, I could never run in your circles.”
I’m shocked by her response. It is the last thing I ever expected her to say. I’m so taken aback, I don’t even realize we’ve stopped in front of an old duplex. Emory takes my silence as her chance to run, and she does. Jumping from the car, she leans back just long enough to tell me that her sister is across the street, and then I watch as she runs up the walkway and disappears into the aging white building.
