Page 37 of The Love Destroyers

He drops the sledgehammer and then goes down like a sack of bricks on top of the thick maroon carpet.

CHAPTER TEN

EMMA

I scream and run to Seamus, getting down on my knees and grabbing his shoulders, one hand wrapped around each. His eyes are closed and there’s a bump on his forehead that’s leaking blood.

Shit, shit, shit.

My heart is thumping so fast, too fast, and everything inside of me is buzzing with worry. Is he okay? It feels very important for him to be okay, and not just because my mother was the one who clocked him in the head. If he’s not okay…

He makes a groaning sound deep in his throat and then lifts a hand to his forehead, smearing some of the blood from the wound.

At least he can move. It’s good that he’s moving. It’ssomething.

“Are you okay?” my mother asks, hurrying over to us. My gaze is on Seamus, so it takes me a second to realize she’s talking tome. I glance at her and see she’s holding a second glass paperweight like a missile.

“Mom!” I shout. “Put that down at once.”

“You saidkitten,” she says, her voice edged with nerves. “I stayed close to the room just in case. You can’t be too careful.Was he—” Then her gaze lands on Seamus, laid out on the floor. “Oh, dear. That’s Rosie’s brother, isn’t it? Wait….washeattacking you?”

“No, Mom, Jesus. There’s a cat in the walls.”

“Why onearthwould there by a cat in the walls?” she asks, her tone sharp. “Have you lost your mind?”

“Asks the woman who nearly killed Rosie’s brother. Don’t get hung up on the cat right now. We need to make sure he’s okay.”

Another sound issues from Seamus, making all of my nerve endings prickle. Lifting a hand to his face, I trace his cheek. “Seamus, Seamus, can you hear me?”

Nothing.

In movies, people slap someone who’s had an injury to bring them back to awareness, so I lightly tap his cheek with my palm. His hand reaches up to grip my wrist, and relief radiates through me like a whipcrack.

He’s okay. Or sort of okay. Okay enough to hold my wrist.

He opens his eyes and they lock onto mine. “What did I do this time?” he asks hoarsely, his lips forming a pained smile.

My fingers curl in his light grip, caressing the side of his face. “You’re alive.”

“Are you disappointed or glad?” he asks.

“Veryglad. And you remember who I am?”

“You’re beautiful. That’s not a thing a guy forgets.”

It’s not an answer, but something inside of me, tamped down so far it’s barely there at all, glows.

“Where are we?” he asks, his fingers flexing gently on my wrist before releasing it.

Oh, shit, he doesn’t remember what happened before he got hit. That can’t be good.

“Seamus,” I say slowly. “You’re in my house. You answered my Honey Do call. There’s a cat or something in the wall. You were trying to get it out, and—”

“I’m afraid I threw a paperweight at your head,” my mother says primly, much more herself now that she knows she’s not a murderer. “It was all a misunderstanding. You see…Emma had chosen ‘kitten’as our safe word in case the Honey Do contractor tried anything, but we didn’t account for the possibility that there might be an actual cat in the walls.”

“Huh,” he says, his gaze unfocused as he looks around. Then he adds, “At least the carpet’s already the right color.”

Worry thrums through me, and now that he’s freed my wrist, I can’t seem to stop touching him, running my fingers over the side of his face. Touching his arm, his hair. Reassuring myself that he’s breathing and warm and alive. It’s very, very important for him to be safe.

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