Page 36 of Crossroads
“No one deserves violence.” And I know she’s been wrestling with her guilt.
“Some people do,” Emerson jokes oh, so helpfully.
I glare at him over my shoulder, but my lips again twitch with a grin I’m not totally proud of. “It’s okay, Lucy. I’m sorry for the shit I said. I was being a dick.”
“You were,” she agrees, a small smile coming over her pretty face again, and as I look at her, I see the girl I’ve always known. It’s familiar, but I also notice it’s different now.
I thought I couldn’t live without her, but... I don’t know. It feels strange now, holding her hand like this. Being this close to her.
Emerson gets my attention by clearing his throat loudly. “We should get back. We have work to do.”
Lucy looks a little startled by his sharp tone, but I’m used to it and nod. Releasing her hand, I give her what I hope is a reassuring smile. “I’ll see you around, Luce.”
“Bye, Jasper. Take care.” She looks at Emerson, her eyes semi-wary. “You too.”
He just grunts his reply and then tugs me outside to the truck. He hops in, all pissy, and I’m not sure what the hell his problem is, but I don’t really care.
I drive us back out to the farm, but instead of going back out to work, I drag his ass inside for Kelly to baby him—because I know she’s been dying to since I told her he was hurt.
She has a heaping meal prepared, and we all sit down at the table. Millie is home from class and looks at Emerson’s injured hand.
I wonder who’s going to say something first. Kelly fussed all over him but didn’t lecture him. Usually, she would. Kelly is all about safety, but so far, it’s been all doting and lovey-dovey. Feeding him, which is Kelly’s love language.
I see John eyeing the bandaged hand too, his eyes meeting his daughter’s with mirth, and I’m silently placing bets on who says something first.
“Gloves. Always gloves when you’re working with rusty metal, Emerson.” Huh. It’s Kelly who says it, and Millie, John, and I all laugh heartily.
Emerson grumbles, shoveling food into his mouth and chewing.
“Always,” Millie says all smug.
“Always,” John says with a chuckle.
Emerson looks annoyed, but I also see the embarrassment on his face. And for whatever reason, I don’t seem to like that because I pipe up, “And we all learned that the hard way.”
Kelly smiles, taking a drink of her sweet tea. “Boy, did we.” She holds her hand out, palm up to reveal a scar I already knew was there that goes across her entire left palm. “Seven stitches and a tetanus shot.”
Emerson studies the scar. “Ouch.”
Millie is next, lifting her leg up to show off her ankle. “Boots are important too. Three stitches and a tetanus shot.”
Emerson’s lips move into a smile as he realizes what’s happening. John, who’s still wearing his flannel, rolls up the sleeve to show his scar on his forearm. “Ten stitches. Never go outside without a jacket or flannel now.” He’s not done though. He pulls his leg into his chair and pulls up his jean leg to show a jagged scar. “Three stitches.” Then he shows off his hands which have several wounds and scars.
“The man never learns,” Kelly says with a fond smile, shaking her head.
Emerson’s eyes land on me, and while the previous moments were sentimental and light, I see heat in his eyes now. “What about you?”
“Don’t worry about my scars,” I say, my throat feeling thick, and it’s difficult to swallow with the way he’s looking at me now.
If anyone else notices, they don’t show it. Millie just goes on listing all the times I fucked up and got hurt out here, but I still feel the heat from Emerson’s gaze on me, though he’s not looking at me.
He’s listening to Millie with amusement.
But I’m stuck in that brief moment. The heat. Thrusting me back into that motel room with his body under mine.
I’m completely and totally screwed here.
FIFTEEN
