“Porter’s wife had the baby.”
“Yeah? What’d they have?”
“Girl. Faith Reynolds Ingram. Six pounds five ounces. Porter sounds over the moon.”
“As he should. I know these last several months with Maggie on bed rest had him freaked out.”
“Everybody’s healthy and safe.”
“Have you figured out how to make yourself favorite uncle yet?”
Caleb rolled his own shoulders. “I’m sure it’ll come to me. Ready?”
In answer, she pushed into a jog. He fell in, easily matching her pace as they headed up the road for their usual trail that led through the woods on the back side of the park. The four-mile loop was thick with trees and circled around the lake. Beneath the shade of the canopy, temperatures dipped into a more comfortable range. Well accustomed to Emerson’s habits, he kept his mouth shut for the first mile. She had to find her stride and pound out some of that frustration before she unfolded enough to talk.
By the time they hit the lake, her breath had leveled and the tension had begun to melt out of her posture.
“Feel better?”
She shot him a glance that was somewhere between amused and annoyed. “Always do when you drag me out here.”
It was why he’d prodded her into it years ago, but he’d never imagined they’d become regular running buddies back then. He’d never imagined a lot of things when he popped over to her house after that night at the hospital. In the beginning, he’d only wanted to do what he could to help that brutal transition for her and Fiona. After his own parents had been killed in similar fashion, there’d been no Emerson for him. He’d gone into foster care for his last few years before eighteen, winning the foster mom lottery in Joan Reynolds. She’d been the reason he’d gotten through the devastation, and a part of him had just wanted to pay it forward. But then he’d kept showing up, kept being pulled in by them both, and the admiration he’d felt for Emerson had deepened to more.
“There’s something patently unfair about it,” she continued, pulling his attention back to the present.
“Unfair about what?”
“The fact that it’s hard, sweaty exercise that releases all the stress instead of a big ass bowl of ice cream.”
Caleb could think of plenty of hot, sweaty things he’d like to do with her. Not that she seemed to have a clue about the less than gentlemanly thoughts he regularly entertained about her. He’d gone out of his way to hide them, hadn’t he? He was pretty sure she’d relegated him to some kind of little brother status. Or she wanted to. He’d caught her ogling him when she thought he wasn’t looking. He’d even done a fair amount of yardwork and outdoor home improvement projects shirtless, just to test the theory. Yeah. Emerson noticed him in a totally not-brother way.
He’d take it. That knowledge had kept him going these past four years, as he bided his time, being the friend he knew she needed, even as he yearned for more. She’d be shocked at how much more. With Fiona moving out, into the next phase of her life, Emerson would finally have the bandwidth to think about something other than the child she’d upended her life to raise. Which meant it was time to do something about shifting himself out of the Friend Zone.
He dragged his brain back to their conversation as he dropped back to let some other runners pass in the opposite direction. “Pretty sure it has something to do with endorphins and completing the stress response.”
“I suppose I should be grateful. All this running means my ass didn’t grow three sizes with all the ice cream and chocolate I’ve been stress eating since I became a parent.”
Well that just made him look at her ass. All toned and shapely, it bounced just a little with her stride. His hands itched to cup it, kneading the muscles as he devoured her mouth.
Down boy.
Running a quick mental inventory of everything in the apparatus bay at the fire station, he picked up the pace, drawing even with her on the path again. Time to get to the real reason he’d brought her out here. “How are you doing with all this really?”
“I’m…I don’t know. Worried.” She laughed a little. “I mean, when am I not? But excited, too. I’m looking forward to some time alone.” The moment the words fell out of her mouth, Emerson’s face twisted in guilt and shame. “Don’t get me wrong. I adore her. I just…it’ll be nice not to be needed for a little while.”
Caleb hoped she’d take the opportunity to explore her own needs, and that she’d let him be the one to fulfill them. “You’re allowed to be relieved that your kid is growing up and getting out of the house. Maybe especially since you inherited one rather than making the choice for yourself.”
Emerson shook her head. “I don’t regret her for a moment. Just how I got her.”
“I know.”
For a moment, they both slid back to that rainy night. He knew she’d give anything to have Micah back. Did she think about how her life would’ve been different if there’d been no accident? If she hadn’t suddenly been thrust into parenthood under horrific circumstances? He did. Would she have come into his life at all without the tragic beginning?
“Did you want kids before Fi?” He’d never asked her.
“In that sort of vague, someday kind of way. With the right guy.”
“Do you still want kids?” It wasn’t a deal breaker for him. He was legitimately curious.
Her glance said, Please. “I’m thirty-six and single. That ship has sailed.”
“Plenty of people have kids later in life. Or there’s always adoption.”
She gave a noncommittal grunt. “Moot question at this point. I do not want to do the single parent thing again. Right now I just want to enjoy getting some of me back.”
“Totally fair.” He planned to be majorly instrumental in that process.
“What about you?”
Caleb blinked. “What about me?”
“Do you want kids?”
Did he? Like her, he had a sort of vague notion of them. But he hadn’t thought much about kids the past few years. He’d just been thinking about her.
“With the right woman. If she wanted them.”
Emerson smirked. “How’s the search for her going?”
Already found her. She just doesn’t know it yet.
“Eh, there’s time.”
“You sound like Fi.” Her tone was full of exasperated affection.
“She’s a great kid.”
“She is.”
They finished their circle of the lake, jogging back into the trees at a longer, more relaxed stride than they’d started.
“Do you think she’s actually packing?”
“She loves Emiliano’s, so yes.” He felt certain of that. “Whether she’s finished is another matter.”
“Wanna take bets?”
“What are the stakes?”
“Winner buys cheesecake.”
He knew exactly how much Emerson loved her cheesecake. “Deal.”
By tacit agreement, they lapsed into silence and picked up their pace for the rest of the run. At the end of it, Emerson’s cheeks were flushed and wisps of her honey-brown hair curled in a sweaty halo around her head. The lines of strain around her mouth were gone. Mission accomplished.