Damn Wright (The Wrights 2)

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“You’re stubborn, baby. You’ve always had to figure things out on your own. If nothing had changed by the time you set a wedding date, I would have sat you down and made you listen.”

“And what would you have said?”

“That you have to deal with the past before starting a new future. You haven’t faced everything that happened with Dylan. You just buried it beneath school and residency.”

Tears welled, and Emma pressed her fingers to closed lids. “Fuck.”

Debbie sighed. “Your language degrades in direct correlation to the hours you spend in the ER.”

She dropped her hand. “I’m sorry.”

“Let’s talk about Dylan.”

Emma sniffed, covered her hand with her shirtsleeve, and wiped her eyes. “I can’t do this, Mom. I don’t have it in me. I’m worn out.”

“You’ve said that about everything in life that’s ever mattered to you—moving on after coming home, getting through medical school, handling traumas. And not only have you done them all, you’ve done them all well. Why did Dylan come see you at the hospital?”

“He said he came into town to meet his new nephew. His sister Gypsy had a baby a few months ago.” Emma opened her eyes and looked at the ceiling. “He said he came by the hospital to apologize.”

“About damn time.”

Emma huffed a laugh. “Right?”

“What’s he like now?”

Hot. So fucking hot. Damn him. All lean muscle and oozing confidence. And still the best kisser on the planet.

She ran her tongue over her lips, tingling with the memory. He was also resilient and deep. And he still had that aura of adventure.

“He’s…I don’t know. More mature. Seasoned, I guess. Warmer and more sincere than the face he wears on television. But definitely not that lighthearted, easygoing guy I married.”

“I would think not. No doubt he’s seen as many or even more horrible things than you have. And overcoming his physical limitations after that accident…” Her mother shook her head. “I can’t imagine how hard that must have been. I’ve always believed he was only half-sane when he turned you away. The amount of pain that results from burns, well, you know.”

She did know. At least she knew now. Once she’d learned just how much agony burns could cause, Emma had discovered a deeper well of sympathy for Dylan. In those rare moments, when her own pain dimmed, a sliver of understanding surfaced in her soul. Empathy for all he’d been through, all the difficult decisions he’d had to make at such a young age.

“Your father and I continued to reach out to him for a couple of years after you came home.”

Emma’s mind tore from her thoughts of Dylan’s pain. “Wait. What?”

Debbie shrugged. “He only responded once, about a year later.”

Her breath caught. “Why didn’t you tell me this?”

“You’d just gotten back on your feet. Stopped crying yourself to sleep. Made a couple of friends at school. You were…fragile. Your dad and I didn’t want to upend you again.”

“What did he say?”

“He sent a letter. Thanked us for caring about him and including him in our family. He was crushed he couldn’t be the husband he wanted to be. The husband you deserved. But he stood by his decision to break things off. He believed it was the best thing he could do for you.”

A knife twisted in her heart. Emotion overwhelmed her again. She covered her face. “Fuck.”

Her mother went into the kitchen and came back with a glass of iced tea for Emma. “How long is he staying?”

Emma took a long drink, trying to pull herself together. She explained the offer he’d made to renovate Aunt Shelly’s house. “I don’t think spending that much time with him is a good idea. And I don’t completely trust him to follow through.”

“That’s a generous offer. He’s doing what he can to make amends.” Her mother gave Emma’s knee an affectionate pat. “I think you should agree. Not only is it a sound business decision, but I’d like to see you take this time to work things through with Dylan so you can move forward. Put the past behind you. You’ve been emotionally trapped for years. You need to find a way to let it go so you can be free. You were both little more than kids, and you both did the best you could in the face of hardships that would have cr