Page 37 of When to Call a Blitz

Instead of answering, Emmett crosses the space, closing in on me, and he grabs my hands. Pulling me in, he envelopes me in a bear hug, his large hand at the base of my skull, pulling me into his large chest.

I won’t lie, I’ve dreamed of resting my head here quite a few times, and I still wasn’t ready for what it felt like.

Because I was right. He did smell even better up close. Like leather and oil mixed with something warm... like vanilla, but not quite.

Guaiac wood, I think as a sob rampage through me suddenly, his shirt instantly dampening. A scent I only know because of the stupid fucking candle I bought years ago on a whim because it made me feel like I was wrapped in the warmest, fluffiest blanket. I immediately regretted it.

But frivolous purchases can still become important, and I burned that candle every single time I had a bad day and wanted to feel some sort of comfort. After awhile, it started to feel like hope and better days and the passing of time, the emergence of new eras of life and the promises that there's something truly wonderful out there if I. Just. Tried. Hard. Enough.

It's a scent that's burned in my brain, a distant memory of another life I lived and lost and now it's here, on a man I don't think will ever have me.

Because we arefriends.Maybe even less.

Despite all of our connections, all of our similarities, all of our love we’ve lost and all the love we have to give, there’s nothing between us, and there never will be.

We stand like that for a long time, my arms wrapped around his muscular, firm body, one of his hands cradling my head, the other firmly on my back, pulling me closer as I cry.

Eventually he pulls away, his hand still tangled in the hair at the back of my head.

Pulling my hair just a little, he forces me to look up at him. Despite the action not meaning to be sexual, something stirs deep in my belly.

“Why don’t we go for a ride?” he asks with a small smile.

“A ride in what?” The Subaru? His SUV?

But Emmett gestures behind him. “I just finished fixing it.”

20

EMMETT

“My dad died,” Heidi says suddenly as we watch the sun setting in the distance. “He loved sunsets too. We had this house with these huge windows, and he had this specific chair he loved to sit in. There wasn’t a TV or anything in front of it. It was just his chair he used to watch the sunsets every night, and nothing else.”

She pauses, smiling as she looks up at the sky, taking it in.

“I also loved sunsets. Just something about the end of the day and the possibilities to start over the next.”

“Were you guys close?” I ask her.

She considers this. “We were close enough. I wish we were closer,” she looks down at her toes buried in the sand, her blue nail polish peeking out. “Don’t get me wrong, he was one of my best friends. But I was young. At that age when I thought hanging out with my parents was so completely uncool,” the corner of her lips tip up. “And because of that, I feel like I never had enough time with him. I could have been a better daughter. Could have done more. I don’t know.”

“It’s hard to think about the time that’s past and what we’ve lost,” I tell her. “I get it.”

“I know you do.”

“What was your favorite thing to do with him?” I ask her.

“Because he loved sunsets so much, I really loved going on long drives with him. We lived in the country, and we would get in his little rackety car and drive along the country roads, the dust rising up behind us as the sun sets in front of us. At some point, we would find a spot to sit and watch it go all the way down, and we would talk about how school was that day, or how hard things were for him at work. Towards the end, we would talk about how excited he was for my future,” she pauses, biting her cheek.

“It’s okay,” I whisper, and before I can think, I place my hand on top of hers.

“He just always wanted the best for me,” she shrugs, a silent tear falling down her pretty face. “Even when he was at his worst, when he knew he wasn’t going to be here long, he was focused on making me feel good. We used to talk about my graduation like he was going to make it,” her voice breaks. “Like he would be there for it.”

“That must have been hard,” I whisper.

Heidi shakes her head and shrugs. “I didn’t know.”

“You didn’t know?”

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