Rush

Her fingers sift through my hair. She gently tugs it so I’ll look up and into her face. “You saw Delaney.”

I stare at her. “What did you say?”

That brings her down to her knees too. “You saw Delaney at Sweet Bluebells.”

Nodding, I can’t find words.

“I need to show you something, Case.” Her hands tug on my biceps. “Sit on the bed.”

I do as I’m told. I’d do anything for her.

I help her up before I settle on the bed. Kicking my shoes off, I watch as she crosses the room to grab her purse.

Before I can say a word, she’s dumped it on the bed.

Her hands grab for a large envelope. I recognize the logo on it immediately. It’s from Printe.

“You’re going to show me a picture?” I sigh. “Can this wait, Emma? I want to hold you. I need to make love to you.”

“She bends to brush her lips over mine. “I want that too, but you need to see this.”

The envelope’s contents flutter to the bed when she turns it upside down. Prints spill out. She spreads them out with a jerk of her palm over them.

I reach out to grab a photo of her with what looks like a mark on her forehead left by a pink-lipstick kiss. “What’s this?”

She glances at it. “Bella’s grandma gave me a kiss.”

I grab another picture, and then another. It’s me. I’m on the bed. She took them the morning she sang to me.

“I’m putting those in my scrapbook.” She plucks them out of my hand with a pinch of her fingertips.

“I want one for my scrapbook,” I tease.

Her eyes hunt for something on the bed. “You don’t have a scrapbook.”

“I want the one of you with the lipstick mark on your head.” I grab it again. “You’re beautiful, Emma.”

She picks up a print from the bed and hugs it to her chest. “Case. I need to…I want to… I know Delaney.”

I nod. “That makes sense. You love that bakery. She works there.”

Her teeth bite into her bottom lip. “I took a picture of her.”

I don’t need a picture to tell me what she looks like. I’ll never forget her face again. Sorrow consumed it both times I’ve seen her. That’s rooted in my memory forever.

“Can I show you?” she asks with so much tenderness in her voice that it bears down on my heart.

I feel it stall in my chest.

“You can show me anything,” I answer.

“This is Delaney, but you know that,” she says as she turns the picture to face me. “And this is her son, Mickey Easton Wilts.”

Chapter 68

Emma

Case can’t take his eyes off the picture.

He keeps running his fingertip tenderly over the face of little Mickey Wilts.

“He’s the spitting image of Apollo.” He pulls in a deep breath. “Right down to the blond curls on his head.”

I watch as he reaches behind him to tug his wallet out of the back pocket of his jeans. He opens it and carefully removes a photograph. It’s taped down the center, and as he hands it to me, he hesitates for a split second. “That’s the last picture I have of the two of us.”

I take it and cradle it in my palm. I know it’s a treasure.

I gasp when I see the young man next to Case in the photo. There’s no mistaking that Mickey is this man’s son. They share the same hair color. The shape and color of their eyes are identical, and their smiles are carbon copies of one another.

“Mickey looks so much like him.”

Case nods. “He looks just like my brother.”

I settle next to him on the bed. I hold the picture in my hand next to the one in his hand.

“Look at that, Emma.” Case’s gaze volleys between the pictures. “I wish to fuck Apollo was here.”

I bite back a rush of raw emotion. “He would have been proud. Mickey is so bright, Case. He’s the sweetest little gentleman.”

“He’s a great kid, isn’t he?” He smiles. “I can tell just by looking at him.”

“You’re going to love him.”

“I already do.” He swallows. “I can’t wait to tell my grandpa that he has a great-grandson. Is Delaney all right with us meeting him? She’ll let us see him, won’t she?”

I took a second to text Delaney in the car on the way to the hotel. I told her that I was about to tell Case the good news, and she insisted that I bring both him and his grandfather to the bakery in the morning to meet Mickey.

“You’re going to see him in the morning.”

His eyes track a path over my face. “Hours from now?”

I glance at the watch on my wrist. “Just a few hours from now.”

He darts to his feet. “What the hell am I going to say to him? Does he wonder why we haven’t been around?”