I wheel our suitcases up the cobblestone path as Emma fishes in her purse for her keys. It’s been a long day, and we’re both running on adrenaline.
“It feels weird coming home without him here,” she says, opening the front door.
“He’ll be home soon enough.”
She flips on a light in the foyer, and I follow her down the long hall toward the back of the house. My eyes flicker over the railing on the staircase leading to the second floor as we pass, and I smile. It’s made from branches off a tree. Very cool.
We head into the kitchen. “I’m not sure what food my father has, but let me make you something to eat.”
“You don’t have to do that,” I say, although I’m starving. I had something light to eat on the plane, but that was almost twelve hours ago.
“Are you okay with grilled cheese? I’ll go to the store tomorrow.”
“Sounds great.”
I take a seat on one of the stools at the breakfast bar and watch her move around the kitchen. “I like these,” I say, pointing.
“The stools?”
“Yes.” They have a wooden top, and the legs are also made from rustic branches off a tree.
“My dad makes a lot of country furniture.”
“Does he sell it?”
“Yes. I’ll show you his workshop and studio in the morning if you like… it’s out back.”
“I’d like that. Is that what he does for a living?”
“He used to work in the mines, but yes, that’s what he does now. He loves making things, it’ll never make him rich, but he makes enough to get by.”
She fries the cheese sandwiches in butter on the griddle.
“Thank you,” I say when she puts the plate down in front of me.
“Is juice okay? I can make you a coffee if you like.”
“Juice is fine.”
“I’m going to head upstairs and have a quick shower,” she says, handing me the glass.
“You’re not eating?”
“I’m not hungry.”
“Emma, you have to eat.”
She dips her eyes to the floor. “I’ll have something in the morning. I don’t have the stomach for food right now.”
“Come here.” Reaching for her hand across the bench, I guide her around to my side.
I drag her onto my lap before picking up half a sandwich. “Take a bite.” I hold it up to her mouth.
She rolls her eyes. “I see you’re still as bossy as ever.”
I chuckle. “Open.”
Emma huffs before taking a tiny bite off one corner.
“You can do better than that.” I slide my free hand around her small waist, holding her in place. “I’m not letting you up until you at least eat this half.”
She takes it out of my hand. “Fine.”
Pulling my shirt over my head, I slip out of my shoes and take a seat on the edge of her bed. My eyes drift around the room. It’s simple and very pink, a typical girl’s room I guess, complete with ruffled curtains. She has a few posters on her wall, and stuffed animals line the end of her bed. There’s a shelf on the far wall crammed with books, and by the looks of the spines, they’re well-read. A corkboard hanging above her desk catches my eye. It’s covered in photographs.
Standing, I cross the room to get a better look. I smile as I study an image of a small Emma, probably around five years old, she’s sitting on what I presume is her mother’s lap. It’s easy to see where she inherited her beauty.
There are photos of Emma with her dad—in one they’re working on a car. She’s got grease on her face, and I find myself smiling as I look at it. The others are of her with a variety of different animals—one where she’s on horseback, one of her feeding a baby calf with a bottle, and another with her arm wrapped around the neck of a large pig. I wonder if that’s Jessabelle. Obviously, her love of creatures goes way back. It’s nice to get a glimpse into her past.
One picture in particular grabs my attention. I remove the pin holding it in place, bringing it toward my face for a closer look. She’s wearing a pink dress. Her prom dress. Ah, so that’s what capped sleeves, a sweetheart neckline, and applique are. She looks beautiful and so happy. She’s beaming. I glide the tip of my finger over her smile. My heart hurts for that young girl. If only she knew what awaited her that night and how much her life was about change.
I hear the water in the bathroom turn on, and all I can do is think about her naked body behind the closed door. I’m a perverted fuck. Her father is lying in the hospital, and I’m standing here silently lusting over her.
It’s hard to believe that yesterday I couldn’t get within an inch of her, and now I’m in Utah, standing in her childhood bedroom.
I pin the picture to the board and walk to the bathroom door. I release a lung full of air as I rest my forehead against the wood, and that’s when I hear her crying.
She held herself together all day, and I should give her the privacy she needs to let it all out, but I don’t want her to face this on her own. Emma’s suffered in silence in the past, but she doesn’t need to anymore. I’m here now.
I open the door before I get a chance to talk myself out it. A lump rises to my throat when I see her sitting on the floor of the shower stall with her legs pulled up around her chest, and her head cradled in her hands as wracking sobs consume her tiny body.
Slipping out of my jeans, I head toward the shower. I leave my boxer briefs on because I don’t want her to get the wrong idea. I simply want to comfort her. I hate seeing her like this.
I open the door and step inside, bending and pulling her to her feet. My arms hold her tight until the tears finally stop.
I cup her face in my hands. “Talk to me, Em.”
“I feel like my world is spiraling out of control, and I’m losing everyone I care about… Duke, you, my dad. I just… I just don’t think I can handle anymore.”
My thumbs glide over her cheeks. I’m not even sure which ones are tears, but I feel compelled to wipe them away nevertheless.
Our eyes lock as I cup her face. “You haven’t lost me, Em.” My mouth collides with hers, passionately but briefly. “Tell me you still want me because I fucking need you. I’m miserable without you.”
Her hand moves between us, sliding down the front of my boxers. “I don’t care if you’re gone tomorrow. Right now, I need this… need you.”
I groan as her fingers grip my aching cock, stroking it. My lips trail across her jaw as my hands snake down her body. I can feel her ribs through her skin. She’s definitely lost weight. Tomorrow I’m going to stuff her full of calories, I don’t care what she says.
Gripping her tight ass, I lift her off the floor. “Wrap your legs around me.”
Pushing her back against the tiles, I grind my cock against her pussy. She moans as her fingers tangle in my hair.
“Fuck me, Ashton,” she says against my mouth.
“Em.”
“Please.”
“I don’t want to fuck you. I want to make love to you.”
She draws back, and the look she gives me sets me on fire, making my heart kick into overdrive. I never want her to stop looking at me in that way. It’s at this very moment I know I’ll never be able to go on without her.