Emma stretched her legs out on Abbie’s couch and yawned. ‘Why did I say I was going for a walk? I can hardly keep my eyes open.’ She’d spent the afternoon with her friend,
chilling out, having baby cuddles and handing Grace back with no difficulty. Emma didn’t for a moment believe she was out of the woods, she knew there were still plenty of difficult moments ahead, but this time had helped.
‘So, are you going to phone and cancel?’
Emma fixed her friend with a glare. ‘As if.’
‘Then move your butt, girl. You’re wasting minutes you should be using to drag your running gear on and redo your make-up before driving into town early so you’re not late for your not date.’
‘See ya.’ Emma leapt up, and instantly regretted the hurried movement. ‘Ouch.’ She rubbed her stomach before rushing out and across to her apartment where she rammed the key in the door lock, or tried to. She missed and had to slow down.
Abbie’s laughter followed her inside and down the hall to her bedroom where she tugged a drawer open so fast it came right out and hit the floor with a thud. Snatching up her running pants, she squeezed into them before searching for a loose tee shirt. No way could she wear her fitted sports top yet. Boobs and tummy too big. A complete refresh of make-up before snatching up shoes, phone, keys, a cash card in case they went for a drink afterwards. Expecting too much? Probably, but in for a walk, in for a drink. And if not, then she’d buy a takeaway to eat at home later. On her own.
*
Emma was doing light stretches when Nixon walked onto Steamer Wharf, and he had to pause. Sports pants fitted snug around her curvy butt, and when she leaned over to touch her toes the baggy shirt rose above her waist to expose creamy skin on her back.
Zap. A heat ray got him. In places he’d prefer not to acknowledge. Not that he denied his masculinity, but this was Emma. Emma as in friend, nurse, mother, and surrogate mother.
The oath he uttered was for his ears only. Who was he fooling here? The woman in front of him with her amazing body that not even pregnancy had turned heavy and cumbersome had found a way into places in his heart he’d firmly believed didn’t exist. She hadn’t entered in one hit. No, this was Emma with her sweet nature and those fears that rocked her from time to time, with her generous heart and sadness that sometimes dulled the greenest of green eyes. She’d snuck up on him when he wasn’t looking.
When he was avidly avoiding involvement might be closer to the truth. He could still avoid that. Forewarned was supposedly forearmed.
‘Hey, you joining me?’ the object of his desire asked, hands now firmly on her curvy hips.
Lots of curves going on here. Curves he’d only begun noticing recently. Curves he now wanted to clasp in his hands so he could lean in for a kiss.
Shut down, Nixon, or you’re not going on any walk.
His body was sitting up to attention, and would bring him a load of unwanted attention if he didn’t haul on the brakes. ‘Sure,’ he managed and lifted a leg to the bollard on the edge of the wharf. Leaning over, hands stretched to his ankle, he counted to ten before releasing the tension in his muscles. In most of his muscles. Not all were playing the game.
‘What kept you?’ Emma had strolled closer. Too damned close. ‘Couldn’t find your top-of-the-range outfit?’
‘Cheeky.’ Twisting slightly sideways, he managed to swap legs on the bollard without presenting his dilemma. ‘Why are we walking when that’s obviously running get-up you’re wearing?’
‘Not sure the body’s quite ready for a run yet.’
He’d figured, but needed a conversation filler while he got everything under control. ‘You ran before you got pregnant?’
‘Most days I’d go out, often with Abbie. She likes to race whoever she’s with, and always wins too, damn her.’ Emma swigged some water from her bottle before clipping it on her belt. ‘Ready?’
No. ‘As I’ll ever be.’ Things were settling down. Hopefully hard-paced walking would finish the job. Hard? Gulp. ‘Let’s go,’ he growled.
It was slow going through the tourists crowding the wharf and the extended areas where cafés and bars beckoned, but once they were beyond the town centre Emma upped the paced, striding out as if nothing could hold her back.
‘Take it easy. No point in overdoing the exercise when you’re already knackered.’ Nixon matched her step for step, pulling back on the pace in an attempt to slow her down, happy to be beside her until they hit the narrow path further out of town. ‘How far are we going?’
‘Sunshine Bay, maybe up the hill, down the other side and probably back to town. Not far, but I’m thinking since it’s been a while I’ll quickly run out of steam.’ She doubted she had the energy for more. ‘‘I’ll re-evaluate when we reach the lake road again. Do you run or walk much?’
‘Cycling takes up most of my spare time. I started snowboarding last winter too.’
‘You like seat-of-your-pants sports.’ Not a question. ‘I don’t understand people wanting to take huge risks all the time. Are you an adrenalin junkie?’
The second person to pull him up on this in a week. Did he need to re-evaluate his approach to life now Emma was getting under his skin? He’d have to if their friendship developed into something stronger. ‘I guess, though I don’t see it as risky, more a way of totally focusing on something to banish all the minutiae in my head. Being distracted by wondering who’s going to fill the roster next week or did I pay the power bill is dangerous. Getting injured is the last thing I want.’
‘It’s your go-to place when you need a break.’ Emma shot him a speculative look.
‘Yes.’
‘Have you always done that?’
Since he was six. ‘Mostly.’
Her mouth flattened. ‘Right.’
Back to Sunday and that argument without even trying. He wanted to head back to town, but he hadn’t got to being head of an emergency department by being a coward. So if he wasn’t one then he should be opening up to Emma, explaining a little of what made him tick. But that meant exposing his fears. If his body hadn’t already quietened down from the heated moments back at the wharf it certainly would now. This was scary stuff. Something deep at the back of his mind was nagging him to let go, to see where it took him. He’d already worked out Emma would be the only person he’d even consider exposing his inner demons to—if he got brave enough.
Deep breath. One, two, three. ‘I lost my parents and brother when I was a child. Doing extreme things like climbing the tallest trees in the bush backing onto my uncle’s property became my way of denying the mental images of them in the plane crash that killed them. I guess I haven’t stopped.’ The words rushed out so fast she probably didn’t hear them properly.
Emma halted, tipped her head back to stare up at him, nothing but compassion in those beautiful eyes. ‘Plane crash? Jeez, Nixon, that’s terrible. I mean, you were a little boy. How did you deal with that?’ Nothing wrong with her hearing, then. ‘Sorry, I guess you’ve just told me how. But it’s hard to comprehend what life must’ve been like for you. At least you had your uncle.’
‘Plus older cousins.’ His tone was flat, and that guilt he got when thinking about them rose. ‘Henry took me in and raised me until I left for university.’ His elbow nudged her to start walking again. ‘Better than being submerged in the welfare system.’ And that, Nixon Wright, is ingratitude in full colour. ‘My uncle never hesitated when the news broke, and I was well looked after.’
‘But they weren’t your family.’
‘Not in the way I wanted.’ He hadn’t been loved. Or so he’d believed, but seeing how Emma loved her daughter without being too effusive he began wondering if he’d been wrong. She wasn’t loud about her feelings for Rosie, but nor was she silent. Because she hadn’t lost anyone close? Uncle Henry had lost his wife, his cousins their mother, before his sister died in the plane crash, yet never hesitated to take a lost little boy into the family. Henry would’ve known what he was going through. That didn’t mean he could be open and loving while dealing with a load of grief and his own two distressed children. No wonder the man was closed to everyone. It had become his way of coping.
Like mi
ne?
‘You were afraid to love them in case they disappeared overnight.’ Emma saw it clear as day.
Loving anyone was terrifying. What if he lost them? Just because Henry didn’t profess love to all and sundry didn’t mean he didn’t feel it. Henry would’ve been grieving when he’d opened his home for his sister’s terrified son. No wonder love hadn’t come Nixon’s way in an obvious display of affection, the way his parents had shown him. If he’d hurt his uncle and cousins by thinking they didn’t care then he had a lot of ground to recover.
*
Now she understood the determination and despair in Nixon’s eyes when he’d worked on the little boy’s mother in the car accident. Emma’s heart cracked open some more for the little boy who’d been Nixon. He hadn’t wanted the other child to suffer for the rest of his life—as he had. He’d have done anything to keep the mother alive.
Emma kept up her power walking—very little power, she grudgingly admitted, yet her lungs were burning. They headed up the hill past the international hotel and into the housing area. If she stopped she’d give into the clawing need to wrap Nixon in a hug. A hug to show him he wasn’t alone. And that might signal the end of whatever they had going on between them today. He would back away. Again. And again. She wasn’t ready to risk that. She wanted more time with him, more getting to know him.
When he was talking about losing his family, his words had been terse, biting on the pain, saying in no uncertain terms he hated discussing it and she was not to start pressing him for more. No problem on that score. Guilt tightened her muscles, her skin, for pushing him so hard last Sunday. No matter that she hadn’t known what was behind his three-date rule and risky lifestyle outside work. She shouldn’t have pushed him as hard as she had on Sunday. Kind of explained why he was a doctor, saving people when he hadn’t been able to save his family. How did anyone cope with the sudden news that the people he loved the most were gone, that he was never going to see them again? No more hugs, kisses, laughter. As for a six-year-old comprehending it—impossible.