No Quick Fix: Torus Intercession Book One, page 16
“I think that sounds perfect,” he murmured, and how he leaned his chin on his palm, smiling at me, made me wish I’d thought of it weeks ago. Seeing the man happy was something I found myself craving. It was the same with the girls.
I had no idea that playing board games would be more fun than going out to a club and picking somebody up.
The following Wednesday night I was going with Emery to the Fall Open House at school. When I strode into the kitchen in jeans and a sports coat, he turned and walked into the stove, bumping his head on the range hood.
“You all right?”
He nodded but I heard him take a gulp of air, and the glazed look in his eyes was very satisfying.
“Is this okay?” I fished, opening the jacket, letting him see the navy dress shirt underneath and how it clung to my chest and abdomen. “Or should I go change?”
“No, you—no. Brann. You look great. You look… really great.”
“Are you sure? It’s not too casual?”
“No. You’ll fit right in with me and the other parents.”
Other parents was nice to hear.
It was not lost on me that during our walk through the school, as so many people stopped to talk to not only him, but me as well, that he never once left my side. And I’d have had an easier time counting the number of times he didn’t have a hand on me, than the times he did.
But that Friday, he left to spend the weekend with Lydia and her friends in Helena, and it hurt to watch him drive away, to see him get into the car and kiss his fiancée and laugh with the others. Clearly, when all was said and done, I was the help, nothing more. Whatever I thought, and hoped, was idiotic.
When he came home late Saturday night, it shocked the hell out of me. I was on the couch, reading, and the girls were in bed already, when Winston’s head lifted up off my thigh and he focused on the door.
I heard the jingle of keys, and then the door opened and Emery came in.
“Hey,” I greeted him, smiling wide, my heart clutching at the sight of him, as was most often the case. “You’re home early.”
“Yeah I—I just wasn’t comfortable, and I had this feeling like I was supposed to be here. Home. And I couldn’t get it out of my head.”
I nodded. “Well, I always go with my gut.”
“Me too,” he replied, his gaze all over me before landing, like a fluttering bird, back on my eyes. “Is there anything to eat, because I skipped dinner to fly home.”
He’d flown. He’d taken the Darrow Holdings jet that was only supposed to be for emergencies, because he felt like home was where he needed to be.
“Yeah, I made chili and cornbread.”
“My girls ate chili?”
I grinned at him. “Every time they eat something I make, you always say that, like it’s a big surprise when they don’t complain about salad or vegetables.”
“I think it’s the homemade part they like,” he informed me, staring, moving closer, his hands on the back of the couch. “I know I do.”
“Well, come on,” I said, as I got up and went to the kitchen, glad I’d cooked instead of waiting for the next day, having hoped he’d be home for Sunday dinner. “I’ll heat it up for you, and you can tell me all about your wild time in Helena.”
“Not that much to tell,” he said, standing there, watching me as I pulled out Tupperware and got out a bowl and a spoon for him. “We had dinner, drinks last night; there was some dancing and more drinking.”
I turned to look at him. “You dance?”
“You didn’t have to ask it like that,” he said sourly.
My chuckle was not subtle, even trying to stifle it down. “I just—do English teachers dance? Is that a thing?”
“I’ll have you know I’m a very good dancer.”
“Huh.”
His grin was warm and unguarded, and he stood there and breathed, like simply being there, sharing space with me was so much more than good.
That might have been why I did it, but really, I wasn’t sure.
Maybe it was because of the house. Being in the warm, cozy place with him and his girls felt like the home I never had.
Maybe it was how much I was clearly needed in the town and the good I’d done in mere weeks. I was as needed as I’d been in the Navy, and that was a surprise.
Maybe it was because I was afraid for him and for the changes that were going to happen in his life.
I had no idea what the impetus was, and possibly I was overthinking it all and it was just him, just Emery Dodd and how drawn to him I was and how much I simply wanted. In the end, there was no telling, but in that instant, there was only him and me in the kitchen, illuminated by the soft reflected glow of the chandelier, the sparkle of light glittering in his big brown eyes.
He was supposed to be mine.
It was why he came home. He knew that he was supposed to be home with me and his girls. Me and his girls. Not Lydia and the girls. Me and the girls.
And suddenly all I could do was show him.
Show him where he belonged… and to whom.
I stepped into his space, took his face in my hands, and kissed him.
His lips were soft, and I parted them with my tongue, wanting to taste him, needing him to realize something important… that I was there for the long run. He tasted so good, like brandy and chocolate, and I kissed him hard and deep, taking what I wanted, but even more than that, needing him to know I was serious and solid and I could be his foundation. I could be what he built the rest of his life on.
It took longer than it should have for me to realize he wasn’t kissing me back.
In the rush of adrenaline and heat and lust, I missed that I’d knocked him up against the wall and held him there while I mauled his mouth. When I finally registered him pushing me away instead of pulling me in, I stepped back as he scrambled off the wall.
“What the hell are you doing?” he rasped angrily, his face a riot of emotion—shame and anger were what I saw first, and what seared into my brain.
Oh God no.
“Why would you—how could you—what are you doing?” he yelled, and I heard the revulsion, saw the disgust on his twisted features.
“Fuck me,” I barely got out, horrified I’d pushed myself on him, forgetting my own strength. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to force—”
“I’m not—how could you think I—”
“I’ll get outta here, and Torus can send—”
“The girls,” he whispered harshly, and then darted from the room. I heard the door to his bedroom bang shut seconds later.
His words were crystal clear.
He certainly didn’t want me, was appalled over what I’d done, but for his daughters… I could stay. He’d suffer with my continued presence for them. They couldn’t have even one more change, one more disruption, or one more goodbye. He wouldn’t allow that.
Rushing to my room, I went in, closed the door behind me, and climbed onto the bed. And though I was exhausted, I couldn’t sleep at all.
Twelve
I waited as long as I could before I got up the next morning. It was still just after seven when I woke up Olivia and asked her to help me make breakfast.
“You never get up this early on Sunday,” she said, smiling sleepily, rubbing her eyes. “Where’s the fire?” she asked, using an expression she’d picked up from me.
I didn’t explain to her that it was because, when I’d finally drifted off from exhaustion, I’d still woken up several times in the early hours of the morning, my brain running through everything I’d done, over and over again.
The look on Emery’s face, his horror and humiliation, wouldn’t get out of my head. Every instinct I had said to run, but what kept me there, rooted, planted in the house even though I was filled with shame… was the girls.
The girls needed me.
The girls were counting on me.
The girls trusted me to remain.
If I focused every drop of my attention on them and then left clean, cutting the cord the moment the wedding was over, I could still be of service to Emery. I’d irreparably damaged our—whatever it was, not relationship—but the girls were another story.
All I wanted was to erase what I’d done, and if I was there, steady, strong, an absolute rock of dependability, then perhaps he’d stop seeing me as someone who’d disappointed him, or worse, accosted him.
When he finally stumbled into the kitchen an hour later and saw both girls eating biscuits and gravy, he came around the table and stood beside me after pouring himself a cup of coffee.
I couldn’t look him in the eye.
“Brann,” he said, his voice low, rusty, as though he hadn’t spoken in years. “We need to talk about—”
“It’s okay,” I assured him, sad but resigned, knowing it was actually for the best. “I figured you’d change your mind and you’d want me out this morn—”
“No,” he snapped under his breath, taking the last step forward, into my space, so we were shoulder to shoulder. “I don’t want you to go anywhere.”
I had no idea what I was supposed to say.
“Last night,” he began under his breath. “That wasn’t what you—”
“I didn’t mean to force my—”
“You didn’t,” he made clear, the stress on his words, in his tone, changing things for me in an instant. “You’re not like that, and that’s not what happened.”
I finally turned my head and met his chocolate-brown gaze. His eyes were so soft and deep, and every instinct I had said to claim him, to turn and kiss him again because he was supposed to be mine. And that made zero sense, as what he wanted had been made abundantly clear—it was, decidedly, not me. So instead of saying another word, I clenched my jaw tight so nothing stupid came out of my mouth.
“You surprised me, and—”
“No,” I said fast, shaking my head, unable, it seemed, to remain silent. “I freaked you out and made you uncomfortable, and it was not—”
“I wasn’t freaked out, Brann, and you’re not the first—”
“I don’t think sometimes—a lot of times—and it’s gotten me into a ton of trouble in my life, and now I messed this up, and—”
“You’re not,” he growled, sounding frustrated, his right hand clenching into a fist on the counter, “listening to me, and if we could—”
“It’s only been a month, so really, I could still go and—”
“No!” he yelled, and the room went silent.
I turned to the table, and both girls were staring at us. “I don’t know why your dad got so upset, but he’s taking a hard pass on chicken livers for dinner tonight, even though I said you guys would totally love them.”
Both girls looked horrified.
“Tell your dad thank you.”
“Thank you, Daddy!” Olivia yelled.
“Ohmygod, thanks, Dad,” April echoed, squinting at me like I was insane.
He took a breath, smiled at them, and then turned back to me. “Would you please come into the other room with—”
“I don’t want you to think I would ever do anything to—”
“Brann,” he said huskily, taking a step away from me, “would you please walk into the hall so we can talk about—”
“I swear I won’t ever touch—”
“I’m not worried about that,” he insisted, clipping his words, glaring at me, reaching for my bicep. “Please come here.”
Rushing by him, I walked under the arch that marked the division between the kitchen and the hallway and then rounded to wait for him, only to realize that he was right there, nearly plowing into me.
I scrambled back, not wanting to touch him, afraid of what he’d think.
“Shit,” he groaned. He’d been ready to reach for me, I felt it in a way I’d come to think of as instinctive, but he caught himself and let his hand fall to his side instead. “Brann, I need to explain what—”
“I never meant to scare you or disgust you, and I’m sick about it, and if I could take—”
“Oh, for the love of God, Brann, you didn’t scare me or force me or anything else,” he almost yelled. “You surprised me, and that’s it.”
I heard him that time, and my relief was staggering.
As long as I hadn’t made him stand there while I kissed him, the incident was forgivable. If he hadn’t been able to get away, if I’d cornered and caged him, made him feel defenseless and demeaned, then absolving myself was out of the question. But he wasn’t saying that. He was telling me things hadn’t happened that way.
“If we could—”
“I am really so very sorry,” I said quickly, hoping he could hear the sincerity and pain there and know I meant it. Heart and soul meant it.
He shook his head. “No. You don’t have anything to apologize for.”
“I do.”
His gaze was locked on my face. “Brann, you—”
“Please tell me, are we okay?”
His brows furrowed, and his face scrunched-up like he was in pain. “Of course we’re okay, but I think we need to—”
“Forget it,” I rushed out, feeling the weight of shame and fear evaporate and leaving me so very thankful for the do-over. “We need to just forget it. You were clear, and I absolutely heard you, I swear to God.”
“Brann—”
“No, Emery, really,” I said, exhaling a deep breath as I pivoted around him, then looked back over my shoulder for only a moment. “I so appreciate you giving me another chance.”
“Could you please—”
“Hey, is there a pumpkin patch or someplace for us to go?” I asked the girls as I rushed away from him and back into the kitchen, then stopped beside the table to look at them. “Because it’s almost Halloween, and you guys are seriously lacking in orange around here.”
The shouts for pumpkin patch were loud.
Emery couldn’t go. It turned out Lydia and the others had returned as well, so now he had to be at a wedding planning session. He went on to explain that he had friends of his from college who would be in Helena for a conference until Wednesday night.
“But Wednesday is Halloween, and I usually—”
“You don’t have to worry about taking us now,” April said excitedly, like she was problem-solving his life. “Now Brann can take us, and you can be with your friends!”
“Honey, I—”
“Daddy was worried about how he was going to be in two places at one time,” April informed me. “He was gonna have to take us trick-or-treating early and then leave us with my friend Nicki and her mom.”
“Oh, then this works out great,” I said to Emery. “I’ll take them, and you can go.”
“That’s not—”
“What should I be?” I asked the girls. “Maybe we could go get me something and then hit the pumpkin patch after.”
There was so much squealing it sounded like there were ten more kids in the kitchen.
“Let’s clean up the kitchen, people,” I announced. “Then we wash faces, brush teeth, and meet in my room. I gotta make a quick call and then we’re vapor.”
They both looked up at me.
“We’re air,” I explained. “Like we’re moving so fast we leave nothing behind.”
They both said oh at the same time, in a very indulgent way that was not lost on me.
“You guys are making me feel really damn old.”
Lots of giggling over that, and I growled at them before I started clearing the table.
“I can clean up,” Emery offered, and when I turned to him, I could have sworn he looked and sounded almost dejected, but I was probably reading him wrong. He had to be as relieved as I was.
We had everything straightened out. I apologized, and he said it was okay, which basically meant he forgave me, so… we were good. “No, we got it,” I assured him. “You go do your thing with Lydia. Will we see you for dinner?”
“The girls and I were supposed to eat with her.”
“Or… you guys could have date night instead, and the girls and me’ll hang out and get ready for school tomorrow like usual.”
Both the girls cheered because skipping dinner etiquette on a lazy Sunday sounded like heaven to them.
“No dinner! No dinner! No dinner!” they both chanted.
Emery gave us a slight smile and then kissed his girls.
I turned to the sink before he could say anything more, because it hit me then, as I’d made plans for the day, what the best thing was that I could do for him.
I needed to make myself invisible.
If I was there for the girls but Emery didn’t have to deal with me… how great would that be? He’d have the best of both worlds—a nanny there to care for his kids and a person he never had to have any interaction with. It was a win-win situation. I would work really hard to make up for what I’d done so the kiss wouldn’t only be forgiven but forgotten as well.
I felt so relieved at having a plan.
April wanted me to be a cowboy, and Olivia was certain I’d make a better pirate, so they compromised and I was a musketeer, which worked out great since April was going as a princess and Olivia as a queen. I’d be their protector and dress the part as well.
Looking for pumpkins was insane, and we got way too many as well as some different-colored gourds, because apparently their mother had liked those and the Cinderella ones to put on the front steps of the house. We also bought small hay bales and decorations for the front door and fake spiderwebs to put all over the shrubs.
Emery was gone all day and night, and the girls were in bed when he got home. When I heard his car driving along the side of the house, headed for the garage around back, I changed into my running clothes and was on my way out as he was on his way in.
“The girls are down,” I told him as I walked by. “I’ll be quiet when I come in.”
I didn’t give him a chance to say anything more.
Halloween was great. I’d forgotten how much fun it was to go trick-or-treating. Dressing up and walking the girls around was amazing, and I met what felt like a hundred people. I couldn’t remember ever shaking that many hands in my life. I felt like I was running for office.
