I freeze at the sound of Emerson’s voice behind me, whirl to find her standing on the shore in a black sweater dress that hugs every single one of her glorious curves. Her hair is wild around her head, she’s wearing tall boots that swallow her legs all the way to the knees and her hands are on her hips. She looks pissed. Really, really pissed. And also really, really good.
Like salve my soul good.
“The sand wasn’t enough?” she continues. “You had to actually go in the water?”
She sounds so outraged that I nearly laugh and somehow, someway, something loosens in my chest. I take my first deep breath in a week.
“You’ve got something against water?”
“As a matter of fact, I do.” She bends over, giving me a great view of her beautiful, beautiful breasts as she tugs off her boots. “I’m terrified of it.”
“You’re scared of water and heights?” I demand.
“Nope, not heights. Just water. You got it wrong that day on the bridge.” And then she walks straight into the ocean after me and doesn’t stop until we’re face-to-face. Well, face-to-chest considering how much shorter she is than I am, but still. She’s right here, so close I can touch her if I want.
I want. God, do I want.
Still, I curl my hands into fists. Do everything in my power not to grab on to her and pull her against me.
I lose the battle without ever lifting a finger, though, because a sudden wave comes crashing past us. Emerson loses her balance as it knocks into her and she falls straight into my chest.
I wrap my arms around her and lift her all the way out of the water. She squeals and winds herself around me—arms, legs and body. “Why the hell did you come in the water if you’re this scared?” I demand as I carry her back to the sand.
“Because that’s where you were. Obviously.” She looks at me like I’m stupid.
“I already told you I don’t need you to take care of me.”
“I know you did.” She struggles against me until I put her down. And then, staring up at me with her hands on her hips, she demands, “And do you know what I’ve decided about that?”
“I’m a little scared to find out.”
“You should be, because it’s bullshit. I’ve stayed away for the last week, giving you your space because I can’t imagine the pain you’re in, but I’m done now. I’m calling bullshit on your ‘I am an island’ routine.”
“Are you now?” I’m smiling. For the first time in a week, I’m smiling.
“Yes, I am. And do you want to know why?”
“Why?”
“Because I love you.”
The words send me reeling, have me struggling to focus on anything beyond them. But she’s still talking and I don’t want to miss a thing.
“I know it’s ridiculous, just like I know that I’ve only known you a short time. You’re obnoxious and weird and I don’t have a clue how it happened, but you totally made me love you. And, just so you know, I have abandonment issues and rich guy issues a mile wide, so the whole ‘fuck me and then dump me’ thing really kind of sucked. But I get it. I do. You’re tough and in pain and you don’t want to need anyone.
“Well, fuck that. I’m here anyway and I’m not going anywhere, no matter how hard you push me away. I went into the fucking ocean for you and that should tell you exactly how much I love you. So if you tell me that you’re fine and try to shut me out again, I’m probably going to punch you.”
Eyes narrowed, lips pursed, she shakes her fist at me in a pretend threat. And that—combined with the love and fear in her eyes—is what does it.
That’s all it takes to have me breaking.
The sob rises up from deep inside of me, so deep that it hurts my chest and throat and head.
So deep my whole body shakes with it.
So deep that I swear I feel it in my soul.
And then she’s there—of course she’s there—wrapping herself around me and holding on so tight that I shouldn’t be able to breathe. But I can. For the first time since I left her in that damn hospital parking lot, I can.