Welcome!!!

Hey friends,

Welcome to Ruby Creek. 🖤 If you’re brand new, this is where it all begins.

Broken Vows is the start of Lucas & Emilia’s love story, and the very first book in the Broken Redemption Series —a collection of connected romances set in the small town of Ruby Creek. Each couple’s journey is told across multiple books, and Lucas & Emilia’s story unfolds across an entire trilogy: Broken Vows, Broken Hope, and Broken Courage .

This is the doorway into everything. If you’re just discovering my books, Lucas & Emilia are the perfect place to start. You’ll meet the heart of Ruby Creek through them, and you’ll also catch the first threads that tie into all the stories to come.

And if you’ve already read ahead into James & Annelly’s love story, welcome back. You’ll see some familiar faces here, and maybe discover a little more insight into how their paths cross.

Thank you for picking up this story, and for choosing fierce, messy, relentless, fight-for-it love. I can’t wait for you to fall for Lucas & Emilia the way I did.

Let’s begin. — Ariana

✨ New chapters in ongoing stories land every Tuesday & Thursday at 3:00 PM EST.

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Prologue

Lucas

“Lucas, please. Open your eyes,” she begs, her voice raw and thick with emotion. “You can’t leave me like this. Do you hear me? You need to fight. You promised me you would fight!” Her anguished screams pierce through the darkness like jagged echoes of desperation.

What I wouldn’t give to do as she asks if only to catch one last glimpse of her beautiful face and those whiskey eyes. But after weeks in this underground hell, half-starved and at the mercy of men determined to break me, my body is done. Battered. Broken. Tortured just to the edge of imminent death. I know it should scare me. The near certainty that I’m close to the end of my life. But after being chained to this wall—left to sit in my own filth with the stench of blood, decay, and desolation all around me—the threat of my demise feels like the ultimate escape.

“Lucas please.”

The agony in her voice slithers its way up my skin. The discomfort helps to break up the mental fog that clings to me like a vise. Try as I might, I’m too weak to open my eyes, let alone give her a sign that I’m still here. It’s like I’m paralyzed. Frozen and trapped under the icy claws of impending death. A sensation that comes as a welcomed reprieve, for there is comfort in the knowledge my time in this place is rapidly coming to an end.

With nothing but my thoughts and regrets to keep me company, I can’t help but reflect on my life. Starting with my amazing parents. The picture-perfect childhood they created for my sister and me. How one seemingly inconsequential mistake in my teens caused their deaths and ripped it all away.

My dark thoughts then shift to the men who entrusted me with their lives. They depended on me to make the right choices. My job was to get them through the mission so they could return home to their families. That I failed them. That they suffered for my mistakes and that it’s because of me that their loved ones will never see them again… the guilt is like acid burning me up from the inside.

It’s worse than the physical torture I endured. It’s the same all-familiar pain that has plagued me since my parent’s death all those years ago. That someone with my track record would step up to be responsible for the lives of other men is downright unforgivable. It was foolish to assume it was my path to redemption, and now, because of my hubris, they too are dead.

It’s another reason I deserve the end that’s coming to me. I’m not worthy of another chance in this life. Things like marriage. Children. The white picket fence. I’ll never do any of those things, which is for the best, but then the ball of regret expands as I picture the faces of the people I’ll never see again. Pastor David, the man who saved me from the streets and offered me a different path. My sister Jenny, whom I abandoned years ago with the promise that someday I’d return for her. And my Embree. The only woman I’ve ever loved, and whose heart I surely shattered when she woke to find me gone the morning after I took her virginity.

I wonder if they know where I am. Do they have any idea what’s happened to me?

“Lucas, please try. For me . Open your eyes and look at me.”

Like a beacon of hope in the dark, her plea breaks through to that part of me that’s never been able to deny her. After everything I’ve done, after everything I ruined, don’t I at least owe her this one thing? Even if it hurts like hell. Even if it kills me.

Tapping into what’s left of my reserves, I fight for control over my body. My throat is too dry and sore from dehydration to speak, so I make one last-ditch attempt to at the very least do as she says, and give her my eyes. What I find through the cracks of my swollen lids nearly steals my breath. A lone tear escapes from the corner of my eye when her angelic face materializes from the darkness and sharpens into view.

God, what have I done? Why the hell is she here? She doesn’t belong in this place.

“I-I’m sorry,” I whisper, even as the effort sends pain radiating through the broken ribs in my chest. When she leans down to kiss my forehead, I close my eyes, hoping to soak in as much of her warmth as I can.

“It’s okay. We’re okay. I just need you to hold on because I can’t lose you. Not after everything that’s happened. Now open your eyes again, Lucas. Please,” she sobs, “don’t you dare give up on me now.”

Summoning every ounce of strength I have left, I do as she asks. The intense fear coming from her rips out my heart and slices yet another wound of contrition onto my soul. I did this to her, which is how I conclude that I have no other choice but to give her this as well. I have to fight. Somehow, I must find the will to survive. To push my failing body beyond the brink, if for no other reason than I can’t fathom the thought of leaving her alone in this hell.

“I-I’m here, s-sweetheart,” I rasp painfully, trying to reassure her. “Not going anywhere.” The effort it takes to speak is thankfully rewarded when, through tears, she gives me a sad smile.

Taking my hand, she tells me, “That’s right, just hold on to me. Together, I know we can get through this.”

Exhausted and comforted by her faith, I close my eyes and fall back into the dark recesses of my mind. The numbing fog that surrounds me feels an awful lot like the worst sickness I’ve ever had. I can tell my body is at its limit. The internal injuries on top of lingering infection from untreated wounds have left me so depleted that it feels like I’m slowly rotting away.

Still, I do what I can to cling to her voice, which has somehow tethered itself to my life force. A life force that grows weaker and weaker with every breath that I fight to take and for the first time, I’m afraid. As tremors wrack through my body, I’m overcome by the devastating realization that survival may not be in the cards for either of us.

Like my search for redemption, the hope of a second chance is nothing more than a fool’s dream. 

Author's Note:

Oh my gosh, this was a tough one to write! 
This scene came to me in a dream and played over and over again in my head until I finally sat down to write it. What Lucas experienced is traumatic and terrible, and though I'm the one who wrote it, I hate that he had to go through it.

I know there is much left unexplained, but you have my word, by the middle of the story you'll have all the answers.

So what do you think? I can't wait to read all your comments!

Want to read ahead? Get EARLY ACCESS ON REAM (Link in my profile).

For updates on this and future stories, remember to follow me.

NEW CHAPTERS will post at 7:00 PM EST on Tuesdays & Fridays!!!

Chapter 1

Lucas

(16 Months Later)

After months of sleeping in my truck, you’d think I’d be excited by the prospect of sleeping in a bed. Instead, I’m anxious. Memories from the last time I tried are still fresh…

The sense of danger looming. My body on high alert, listening for the loud hissing whispers of incoming mortar fire. The fear of being killed in my sleep, of waking up to bodies, blood, and chaos all around me.

It’s an aftershock from years spent sleeping in combat zones. It’s a feeling I deal with most nights anyway, but there’s something about the quiet stillness of a bed that intensifies it two-fold. Like the comfort is a trick. A ploy by the enemy to catch me while my guard is down. I know it’s not rational. I know I’m no longer at war, but no amount of rationality can change that for over a decade, that was my reality.

It’s why I left the city. While at one time New York was my refuge, returning to it after this last deployment exacerbated my symptoms. The way sound reverberates around the cement structures is too reminiscent of the sounds of war. Common noises others barely notice increased my restlessness and intensified the panic attacks to the point I almost gave in to my demons.

As soon as the doctors cleared me, I got out of there in search of peace. Since then, I’ve stuck to traveling the state’s backcountry roads through the Adirondack Mountains. Staying in campgrounds along the way, basically living the life of a drifter survivalist.

“If the boys could see me now,” I chuckle at the thought, but the sharp pang that tugs at my chest cuts my amusement short.

They can’t see you now, you idiot, because thanks to you, they’re all dead.

The somber reminder rubs at the raw wound that’ll never heal. The guilt and pain are forever etched on my soul like a poisonous tattoo. The heinous memories and sordid details left behind a lingering filth that’ll never wash clean. It’s marked me as unworthy of the second chance I’ve been given, and it’s why I struggle to believe in much of anything anymore.

God.

Fate.

The universe.

That someone like me can survive to see another day, while good, more worthy, and deserving people had to die, is testament that no higher power exists. Or at the very least, no higher power that gives a damn about what’s right. We’re nothing but pawns in a game where we’re led to believe we control our destinies, when in reality the only thing we have any control over is our choice of when to give up and let death claim us.

And even that, you couldn’t do right.

It’s the gentle whine and nosing at my hand that snaps me from the dark thoughts that consume me. It makes sense he can tell when I’m slipping back. He had a front-row seat to our calamity and knows the nightmare intimately since he lived it, breathed it, and suffered for it just like I did. Forever scarred and deemed unfit to continue the mission, he and I are the same. Forever bound to one another by circumstances no one else could possibly understand.

“Thanks, boy. I’m alright.” I reassure him, though it’s the feel of his soft fur against the palm of my hand that reassures me. Nero is the one good thing that came out of all this. The fact he’s here and still saving me now fills me with gratitude. If not for him, I don’t know how I would make it through each day. A fact I’m almost certain rings true for him as well.

“We’re a fucking pair, aren’t we, boy?”

Coming to the intersection, I turn onto the major stretch of road that will take us away from the wild world that’s become our refuge. The best thing about backcountry camping is the solitude. It’s especially true during the cold months when the chill and snow keep even the most die-hard away. Out there in the wilderness, we could sleep in the truck. We could hike, hunt, fish, cook our meals, and for days, never see a single soul. It was a feeling of perfect peace. The solemn quiet I’d yearned for when I escaped urban society. But now, being forced back toward civilization, I’m overcome by a deep sense of foreboding. Aside from people and traffic, there will be lots of unknowns to contend with. Including sleeping in a bed, since people don’t take kindly to drifters living out of their cars. It draws attention. Especially in a small town like Ruby Creek, and attention is the last thing I need.

The unwelcome ringing of my phone cuts through the quiet. The sound amplifies the anxiousness that’s been building since we left the campsite this morning.

“Damn. I thought we’d have more time,” I growl under my breath as I reach to answer the call. Ringing means we’re already within the boundaries of civilization.

“Yeah?”

“Hey, Lucas. Wasn’t expecting you to answer.”

“We’re almost to I-87. Guessing we’re far enough off the mountains to have reception.”

“So, you’ve decided then?” His muffled voice comes through the line as though it’s propped up on his shoulder. I can’t help but smile at the sound of ruffling papers, as I picture him at his desk multi-tasking. It’s who he is. The guy can’t sit still.

Pastor David Johnson has seen me through the lowest points of my life. As a homeless 17-year-old kid, he gave me so much more than food and a warm bed. He gave me love and purpose. Then 13 months ago, with a broken mind and battered body, he opened his home to me yet again. His offer to help me heal and find a new purpose is the main reason I’m still alive. I owe him, which is why I’m fighting so hard to get better.

“Yep, I need to finish this. Hopefully, wrapping things up there will help me move forward.”

Moving forward. A concept so simple, yet seemingly out of my reach. Until recently, it’s what I thought I was doing. Enlisting in the Navy. Becoming a SEAL. Serving my country. For 15 years I thought I was moving forward, but all it took was one bad piece of intel and a lot of bad luck for those 15 years to be for nothing.

“You planning to see your family?”

“Nah. Doubt they’ll want anything to do with me.”

“Come on now, you know that’s not true. Not after all the letters and private investigators. Those people care about you.”

I want to believe him, but after all this time and the way I’ve ignored their every attempt at communication, I’m certain our chance for reconciliation has passed. Plus, I’m not sure I can handle the rejection should they turn me away. The wounds of my past are still fresh, especially now that I’m stuck picking up the pieces of 17-year-old me.

“Maybe, but I’m not exactly in the best headspace right now.”

“I get it, son. You know I do. But it might do you good to reconnect. At the very least, maybe get some closure.”

Closure? There’s no such thing as closure for that part of my life. Like a choker around my neck, I’ve been powerless to break free from it after all these years. If time and fighting wars on the other side of the world haven’t lessened the guilt and heaviness around my heart, I doubt closer proximity will do the trick.

“I don’t think…”

“Son, you know I steer clear of telling you how to live your life, but I think it’s time you stopped pussyfooting around your problems. I’m not just talking about Afghanistan. Your avoidance issues started way before that. Back to when you first showed up on my doorstep, a sad, angry kid. Your parent’s death, your sister, you ran away and never dealt with any of it. And hey, I get it. Life almost broke you, but your sister and the Barrett girl, they’re still there. Both are still waiting for you to come home. You say you’re trying to figure out what comes next. Well, those two girls might just be the key.”

“Look, Pastor…”

“No Lucas. It’s time. You’ve told me you don’t know what else is out there, that you don’t know where you fit anymore. You went as far as telling me the whole point of living out of your truck these past four months was to help you come to some sort of resolution. So perfect, get in that truck of yours, go home, and see what you find. Because what if everything you’re looking for is back there with the people you left behind?”

Clearing my throat, I swallow down the emotion. Tendrils of anger and sadness choke me up, as the man I look up to most in this world gives the same speech I’ve been giving myself and ignoring for over a decade. Except he says it like I don’t know what’s back there. Like I don’t remember everything I lost. Everything I had to give up. All the love. The sense of community and familiarity I so desperately crave. I remember it all. The real problem is that I don’t deserve it. Not after everything that’s happened. Not after everything I’ve done.

The sudden tightness in my throat is my first warning. Nero’s high-pitched whine is the second. But this time, not even his frantic attempts at getting my attention can pull me out of the black hole that’s sucking me under. The pressure in my chest joins in the foray. Building. Constricting. Squeezing and threatening to cut off my airway.

No! No! No! Not now!

But this is my life since Kabul. An endless downward spiral, cycling in and out of the pits of hell. As I attempt to even out my breathing, I slow the car, pulling it onto the shoulder for safety.

“I hear you.” My voice is gruff, and I pray that he can’t hear the terror in the harshness of my breathing.

“Listen, think it over. Take care of business, but be open to reaching out to your sister at least. I know you lost a lot in that town, and I know you’re still recovering from what happened 16 months ago. Just remember, though it feels like you’ve lost everyone, she is still there. Waiting. For you. It’s not too late, Lucas.”

“Okay…” I relent, desperate to get off the damn phone. “Gotta go. Call you when we get there.”

Hanging up before he can respond, I open the door and rush out of the car. Nero, with the agility of a Belgian Malinois, is out before me, running ahead, though in my mental state, my awareness fades and I lose sight of him. Through desperate breaths, I search for the oxygen I know shouldn’t be this hard to find. Determined to hide my vulnerable state, I stumble to the passenger side of my truck, where I collapse. My back to the car, my forehead lowered to my knees. My racing heart is pounding so hard I hear it throbbing in my ears, while beads of perspiration trail down my clammy skin.

Fighting to remain conscious is taking all my strength, and the harder I work to pull air into my lungs, the more it feels like I’m dying. Suffocating in the open air is yet another cruel joke dealt by a universe that hates me. Such a punk-ass way to go after everything I’ve survived. With black dots appearing in my periphery, I resort to the only thing that ever works to pull me back. Resigned, I close my eyes and let the images come.

Memories of whiskey eyes the shape of almonds. With one look, those eyes could pry me open. The flawless skin, so pure and soft, her touch, the only one that to this day has ever silenced all my pain. Little did she know she was my crutch; the only person I’d let see me break because in her I’d found my strength. Somehow, her love was strong enough to hold my pieces together when I couldn’t do it for myself.

She was my best friend. My first love and the only girl to own my heart. She was the embodiment of all that is good and beautiful in the world. Even back when we were kids, I knew she was special. I can’t remember a time I didn’t love her, and with every year that we grew and matured, so did our love, evolving into something timeless.

When we were young, I thought she’d always be a part of my life. But that’s the problem with the innocence of youth. It lets you believe in fairy tales and happily ever afters. On the other side of childhood, the reality is much different. Real life is dark, soul-consuming, and destructive. Just when you think you’re getting ahead, the universe takes it all away simply because it can. I first learned that lesson at the tender age of 17. It’s why I left in the first place, and why I’ve stayed away ever since.

With my breathing returning to normal, the panic is quickly replaced by shame. Pastor David thinks my apprehension stems from leaving my sister behind, but that’s not true. I left Jen to give her a chance at a better life, a decision I’ve made peace with. Instead, my avoidance issues have everything to do with Embree and the way I left her.

After all these years, I still can’t let go of her or that night. Still haven’t forgotten the feel of her lips, the softness of her skin, and the utter perfection in which our bodies fit as if she were made specifically for me. Never again have I felt what I did with her that night. Not with anyone. And the fact I took the gift she gave me and then walked away without a word still haunts me. I’m positive I broke her heart when she woke to find me gone that next morning. It’s one of many reasons I’ll never deserve her, and why it’s not my right to use her memory to ease my suffering.

Running a hand over Nero’s soft ears, I push away the feeling of hope that infiltrates my thoughts when I think of her. That kind of happiness isn’t meant for someone like me, so I shake off the remnants of the panic attack, then gently lift my best friend from my lap and rise to my feet. While I understand Pastor David’s intentions, the fact is, I can barely keep it together on a good day. After all these years and after everything that’s happened, seeing her or my sister is the last thing any of us need.

“Let’s go, boy. Time to get this done and over with.”

Author's Note:

Lucas, Lucas, Lucas! 
Out of all the characters in this series, his voice has always spoken to me the loudest. From the moment he came to me I knew his redemption arc would be a tough one to tell, for unlike many of the other characters in this series, his scars run deep and for the most part are self-inflicted. Lucas is the kind of man who loves his friends and family with all his heart, but when it comes to himself, all he sees are his flaws and mistakes.

Still, he's my favorite character to date because he's so incredibly genuine, selfless, and loving. And the fact he doesn't see his worth makes his transformation and path to redemption that much more rewarding.

Oh, and I can't end this note without talking about Nero! This special canine is amazing and so much more than he seems. You'll learn more about him and how his past ties to Lucas as the book progresses.

Now it's your turn. What do you think of Lucas? If you read the prequel THAT FIRST BREAK (he was only 17 in that story), what do you think about the man he has become?  I can't wait to read all your comments!

Want to read ahead? Get EARLY ACCESS ON REAM. (Link in my profile)

For updates on this and future stories, remember to follow me.

NEW CHAPTERS post at 7:00 PM EST on Tuesdays & Fridays!!!

Chapter 2

Emilia

Not even the bright blooms of late spring can quell the sinking feeling in my gut. While their questions come less often now, answering is as painful today as it was back then. Even harder is coming up with answers I can live with since, at 6 and 4 years old, they understand the difference between truth and lies. The belief that honesty is the best policy is a lesson I work hard to teach and what I strive to give them always, except when it comes to this. So instead, I do what comes so naturally now. I evade and settle on a half-truth.

“I don’t think daddy will be home by then Lyssie Baby, but Uncle Ben said he would take you, remember?”

Through the rear-view mirror, I search Alyssa’s expression for a sign, anything to indicate what she’s thinking. Though she attempts to look unfazed, it breaks my heart when a hint of sadness appears on her sweet face. With her attention focused on the passing scene outside her window, I take a moment to check on her little sister sitting next to her on the passenger side. Mallory is quieter than her extroverted big sister, so she’s the one I often worry about the most.

“Mally Baby. You doing okay?”

A nod is all she gives me, but as her mother, I can read what’s underneath. Right now, she’s okay. I guess given her age and how little she remembers of her dad, the significance of a father-daughter dance doesn’t register for her. But for Lyssie, she remembers, and it’s clear that now more than ever she’s feeling her father’s absence. Just finishing kindergarten, this first father-daughter dance is a big deal to her. Much bigger than I anticipated, the situation made worse since all her friends are being escorted by their fathers. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen her upset over Creed’s absence, but I’m guessing this is a fresh reminder of what she’s missing.

It both breaks my heart and fills me with rage. Not only am I furious with her father, but with the school. I mean, a father-daughter dance? How could they host such an event when they know not every child has a father who can take them? It’s a cruel thing for an elementary school to do and is yet another way they are failing kids like her—those who don’t fit the standard mold—reminding them of yet another way they don’t fit in.

“What do you say we have Grammy over for dinner tonight? That way, we can show her your pretty dress. Doesn’t that sound like fun?”

Still focused on the scene outside, she gives a sad shrug. It’s hard to describe the pain a mother feels when she can’t protect her child from life’s hurts. Everything in me wants to hold her close and fill her up with all my love until she doesn’t need it from anyone else, but that’s not the way it works. I can’t fix this for her. All I can do is hold her hand and love her through her pain. A process made more difficult since I’m still struggling to work through my own.

Pulling up to the school’s drop-off line, we park to wait our turn. Since the school year started, there hasn’t been a day where my spunky Alyssa hasn’t bounced in her seat in anticipation of the bell ringing so she can run inside. But today she’s pensive. Quietly sitting. Just watching and waiting. It hurts my heart to see.

“Hey, Lyssie…” I turn in my seat and wait for those forest green eyes, identical to my husband’s, to turn their attention to me. “If Daddy could, I know he’d give anything to go to that dance with you. He wouldn’t miss such an important occasion if he had a choice. He loves you. Always remember that.”

“I know mama.” The small smile that crosses her face offers some relief.

While I may not be able to take her pain away, I can offer reassurance that her daddy’s absence has nothing to do with how much he loves her. Even as his last words re-play in my mind, I refuse to believe this life we created didn’t mean as much to him as it did to me. I know with certainty that he loved our girls, especially as it was their entrance into our lives that drove him deeper into his work. They were the catalyst that further fueled his obsession with seeking justice. It’s the one thing I’ve held onto since he left, that it was his love for our daughters that led him to choose the path he did.

Watching her exit the car, I’m awed by how much she has grown. When Creed left, she was in preschool, still wearing pull-ups to bed at night, and was just learning to pedal her tricycle. Now she rides a bike without training wheels, and in a few short months will be off to the First Grade. The only sure thing in my life right now is that time is moving on without him.

Turning my attention to the other girl who owns my heart, I ask, “Okay Mally baby, are you ready for school?” Though she doesn’t outwardly match my level of excitement, the twinkle in her eyes, as she nods, confirms she’s ready to go. “Alright, let’s do this.”

The 20-minute ride to daycare after dropping Alyssa off is our time to check in. It’s why I’m not surprised to hear her call out to me a few minutes after pulling away from the school.

“Mama?”

“Yes, Mally Baby?”

“When I go to big girl school, will daddy come to my dance?”

“I’m sure if he can, he will.” I meet her gaze through the rearview mirror, hoping she doesn’t catch the uncertainty in my voice.

After a moment of silence, she asks, “Is my daddy in heaven?”

I can’t help the gasp that leaves my lips as her quiet words thunder through my ears. Shocked by her question, I take a few seconds to think.

There’s no way they know, right?

Have I said anything to make them think…?

“No baby,” I somehow manage to spit out. “Why are you asking?” The shrillness of my voice sounds foreign in my ears, as with shaky hands I grip the steering wheel and will myself to keep us safely on the road.

“Trinity’s Grandma died, so she doesn’t see her anymore. I don’t get to see my dad either, so I think he’s in heaven too.”

Her little voice, so sweet and innocent, holds no sadness or concern. It’s as if she’s talking about something as mundane as the color of the sky. For me though, the words churn like acid, poking at the dark thoughts that keep me awake at night. As I quickly swipe at the moisture building around my eyes, I plant a calm smile on my face and pray she doesn’t notice.

“You’ve seen Daddy, just not since you were a baby. But I’ve shown you the pictures where he’s holding you, remember? He’s not in heaven, he’s away doing his job and making the world safe.” I tell her with certainty while praying what I’ve said isn’t a lie. For the rest of our ride, she doesn’t say much more. By the time I drop her off and turn toward home, the pressure in my head is like a dam about to burst.

When Creed walked out on me three years ago, I never imagined things would turn out like this. My biggest fear at the time was that he meant what he said, that he’d move on with his life, forget us, and never return. But this? This is a fate far worse, because now I may never know the truth. Never know if he would have come back to our home, to our lives, or our children. Never did I think he’d vanish this way, leaving our entire existence and any hope of reconciliation in a perpetual state of uncertainty.

Pulling into our neighborhood, I note the beautiful cape-cod-style homes that line our street. It’s a quiet, tree-lined neighborhood with small, quaint homes that back into wooded lots. When we first saw our home all those years ago, we knew this was where we would raise our family. It was love at first sight, and we put in our offer even before stepping inside.

With its bright yellow shutters and door, which contrast beautifully against the backdrop of the dark blue siding, this is where we built our life. It’s where Creed proposed that same day we put in the offer to buy it. It’s where we lived as we planned our wedding and got married. Where we found out we were pregnant, and then welcomed home our babies. This place represents everything that is us, our past, our present, and at one time, our future. A future that with every day that passes, looks all the bleaker.

Anger. Sadness. Fear. They swirl within me, boiling over and demanding release. Alone and parked in my driveway, I finally let go. The racking sobs rush through me while I cling to the steering wheel for support. White knuckles holding on for dear life like it’s the only thing preventing me from slipping away into the gloom that calls to me. So many nights I’ve laid awake, wondering where it all went wrong. Asking myself what more I could have done to fight for the man who promised me the perfect family.

A part of me wishes I could leave this place in search of him, to at the very least, find the answers no one’s been able to give me. But I can’t. I know it in my heart, for without me, the girls would have yet another person whose absence to grieve. I won’t do that to them. They are the reason I get up every day determined to provide the stability they so desperately need. All the while growing more resentful of him since leaving was his choice. He left us to fend for ourselves. He abandoned us and left me to pick up the shattered pieces of the life he claimed to no longer want.

The soft leather under my fingers serves its purpose and brings me back into the moment. The new car smell, though faded, still lingers in the air, taking me back to the day we purchased it. This car has seen its fair share of my breakdowns over the past three years, maybe because it was his last meaningful gift to us.

As he planned to leave for this last assignment, it mattered to him we had a new, safe, and reliable mode of transportation while he was gone. That was a few months before he served me with divorce papers. That he was concerned enough to buy us a car proves that, regardless of his words and his presumed actions, he wouldn’t abandon us this way. It’s why I believe there must be a reasonable explanation for everything that’s happened. Something I cannot yet see.

Desperate to move past my grief, I dig through my purse in search of my phone. While I can’t change that Creed won’t be at that dance, I can still make the day special for Alyssa.

“Emilia, what is it?” Mom answers on the third ring. As usual, her clipped tone stings. You would think after years of dealing with her indifference, I’d be used to it by now.

“I was wondering if you had time to stop by for dinner tonight. Just you, me, and the girls. Like a girl’s night.” I tell her, hoping she gets the hint to leave her husband at home.

“A girl’s night? I don’t know if I can do that. You know Harold hates to be without me. Is there a reason he can’t come?”

Not even a minute into the call, and I’m already regretting it. With a calming breath, I try to come up with a suitable response. One that won’t open me up to her negative commentary on my life choices, while providing a good excuse for Harold to stay home.

“It’s up to him, I guess. Alyssa and I were going over the plans for her school dance and I told her I’d ask you to come over so she could show you her dress. Not sure it’s something Harold would be interested in.”

“No, you’re right. I have some leftovers in the fridge I could warm up for him before I go,” she says out loud, though the words aren’t meant for me. “You know, Harold could take her to that dance. He is her Pop-Pop, after all.”

“That’s okay. Ben’s got it covered.”

“Hmm. Well, it would have been nice if you’d asked Harold first.” I roll my eyes at her comment, opting to let it go since there’s no point in debating her husband’s role in my children’s lives. “Any update on that husband of yours?” she asks.

“No updates,” I answer casually, hoping she doesn’t pick up on my half-truth. Reaching for my purse, I pull on the door handle and step out of the car so I can make my way inside. “He’s on another case, so we’ve had little time to talk.”

Mom goes silent and I can almost hear her brain picking apart what I’ve said. Preparing for another round of harsh criticism, I instinctively fortify my internal defenses.

Sliding the key into the front door, I listen for the soft click of the latch as it welcomes me inside. The sanctuary that once offered warm comfort now feels more like a cage. The walls and roof trap me in a perpetual state of limbo, stuck somewhere between the present and the past.

“You know what I don’t understand? How much longer are you going to let this go on? By letting that man shirk his responsibilities, he’s making you look like a fool.”

Her judgmental words rile my anger, and I swear, I do try to take a breath and stop myself from saying something I’ll regret. But after the crappy morning I’ve had…

“My husband is out there risking his life. He’s out there enduring a subpar existence, taking on the vilest evil, so the rest of us can go on living in our safe, happy little worlds. How dare you imply he’s some… some deadbeat running away when the very foundation of his career is based on responsibility and fighting for the greater good? You, of all people, have no right to judge him. Or us, for that matter. There’s no way you could understand the sacrifices we’ve made to get to this point.” I snap, hating how my voice shakes with emotion since it’s just the reaction she was hoping for.

Making me hurt. Watching me break. It gives her a sick sense of satisfaction, which serves only to embolden her.

“Sacrifice!” she scoffs. “Oh darling, I know all about sacrifice. I spent most of my life sacrificing myself for you and your no-good father…”

“Don’t,” I cut her off, knowing if I let this escalate, we’ll reach a point neither of us can come back from. “I think it’s best we hang up now. Don’t worry about dinner tonight. I’ll make other arrangements.”

Author's Note:

Poor Emilia!
 I really hate the relationship she has with her. Can you imagine how alone she must feel, with her husband missing and her mother unwilling to be helpful or understanding?

So what do you think? I can't wait to read all your comments!

Want to read ahead? Get EARLY ACCESS  to this story ON REAM. (Link in my profile)

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NEW CHAPTERS post at 7:00 PM EST on Tuesdays & Fridays!!!

Chapter 3

Emilia

Finally parked outside Club Solstice, I turn off the ignition and collapse back into my seat. The amount of energy it takes to navigate even the simplest aspects of my life is exhausting and leaves me wishing for the days when I could maneuver through each moment with little effort. That was back when the anticipation of the unknown was a welcomed reprieve from the mundane. Back when uncertainty and anxiety didn’t rule my every breath, and I woke each morning looking forward to facing the day ahead. What I wouldn’t give for a chance to go back to those simpler times.

Grabbing my purse from the passenger seat, I lean down to slip on the silver heels I’d kicked off on the drive over. Dressing up for girl’s night used to be the highlight of my month, but now it’s yet another chore. Something else I force myself to endure to keep up the pretense that all is well in my world.

Stepping out of the car, I take a second to adjust the rose gold sheath dress I bought last week, thinking something new and pretty would grant me the motivation to be here. Unfortunately, not even the sequined dress with the lantern sleeves I fell in love with is enough to ease the burden of having to fake my way through this night. I look nice, though. I’d venture to say beautiful if not for the dark circles under my eyes, and the utter look of exhaustion that’s taken hold over my body.

Locking the car, I make my way to the crowded entrance. Even from the parking lot, I can hear the bass of the loud music playing inside. Being the only club in a 60-mile radius, Club Solstice is a popular destination that draws large crowds from the surrounding mountain towns.

Gently pushing through the throng of bodies, memories from our time spent here come flooding back. When we were home from college, the girls and I spent most of our free nights here. It looks much the same now as it did back then. With the outdoor lights casting a purple glow over the side of the grey brick exterior, along with similar light displays decorating the inside, the ambiance is trendy in a fun yet sexy kind of way.

As much as I don’t feel like being here tonight, I can’t deny the wistful affection I feel for the place. Looking around, I weave my way through the crowd, knowing where to find the girls. As expected, Jen, Nic, and Hannah sit at our usual high-top table, the three of them laughing with drinks in their hands.

Jen Holt-Chelsey, Nic Chelsey, Hannah Blake, and I have been friends since elementary school. Our friendship was instantaneous, and the four of us were inseparable from the moment we met. After high school, we attended different colleges but still made time to see one another every chance we could.

It was Jen who first planted the seed that would lead us back to our small town. She made us promise that in the end, we’d all return to start our lives in Ruby Creek. We all laughed and with tear-filled eyes agreed to keep the promise. I remember it was a happy yet somber moment, for at the time we hadn’t a clue where the future would lead. Yet twelve years later, here we are, all of us back together again. Jen and I were the first to return four years after high school. Nic and Hannah joined us more recently since their careers required more schooling and time.

“There she is!” My friends erupt in unison when they spot me walking toward them.

The thumping beat of the music vibrates all around us, while the surrounding crowd moves rhythmically to the sounds. It brings back memories of a more carefree time when we’d come to this place and lose ourselves in the music.

If only things were that easy now.

“Where have you been? Nic’s already two sheets to the wind.” My best friend and adoptive sister Jen squeals as she brings me in for a hug. “I was afraid we’d have to flag her before the life of the party arrived.”

“Ha! First of all, two drinks are nowhere near enough to get me flagged. Second, the only place where Emi’s the life of the party is the community library.” Nic cackles as Jen and Hannah join in on the joke.

“Hardy har har. You’re all hilarious.” I mock as if offended, but really, I’m not since she’s right. Except that lately, my preferred venue for partying is my bedroom, in my pajamas, as I spill lonely tears over a glass of red wine.

As I finish greeting the girls, Jen asks. “What took you so long? Last we talked, you said you were on your way.”

“I had the misfortune of dropping the girls off as my loving stepfather arrived home. Unfortunately, he had a lot to say about my terrible parenting. Including my audacity at having the girls in pajamas before 7 p.m. on a Friday. Never mind, I did it to help Mom out.”

“God, he’s such a dick! What’s his problem, anyway? You’re not his kid and they’re not his grandchildren. What does he care?” Nic adds.

“True, but he’s the closest thing they have to a grandfather. Plus, regardless of how terrible he is with me, he’s good to them.”

“I still don’t get why your mom lets him treat you like that,” Hannah adds. It’s a question I’ve often wondered myself.

“I think she feels bad for him. Especially after what went down with Michael. You know it’s part of the reason Harold hates me. He blames me since it was me his son was defending the night he left.” I add.

“Michael leaving had nothing to do with you and everything to do with the terrible way Harold treats everyone. Including his own child.” Nic adds.

“Well, everyone except mom and my kids. As long as he’s good with my girls, I can handle whatever he sends my way.”

“You can’t be serious…”

“That’s enough of that! We’re here to have a good time and talk about fun things!” Jen interrupts Nic’s objection. The way she’s bouncing on the balls of her feet like an excited 5-year-old lightens the mood and gets us all laughing. “Okay, little miss lateness. We need to get you a drink!” She adds as she flags over the waitress.

For the next few minutes, we catch up with one another as we wait for the new round of drinks to arrive. Nic, who runs the only law practice in Ruby Creek, is filling us in on her most recent sexual rendezvous with none other than the newly elected District Attorney.

“Jesus, Nic, isn’t that a conflict of interest?” I ask, feigning shock, though when it comes to this girl, nothing surprises me anymore.

“Only if we’re sitting on opposite sides of a case, which is easily rectified by disclosing the nature of our relationship.” She winks and smiles as if having to declare to the court that you’ve slept with the DA trying a case is no big deal.

“Wait a minute, so what happened with that handsome doctor you claimed had a doctorate in the art of the female orgasm?” Jen asks, as we curl up our noses and laugh in mutual fake disgust.

“Oh, he’s good too.” She cackles before stopping to think. “So is the accountant, and the firefighter. Oooh and I’ll let you know about the bartender…” she pretends to fake swoon as the man ogling her from his position at the bar winks at her.

“I’ll have you know. You’re the reason I said yes when Ben asked me to marry him. I figured I’d be okay settling down since I could still live vicariously through you.” Jen adds as she laughs.

The thought elicits disgust as I realize what she’s implied. “Eww, Jen! What you’re saying is that while sharing a marital bed with Ben, you’re living vicariously through his sister’s sexual escapades? Hope you don’t get your sex tips from her too.” I laugh, wholeheartedly appreciating her faux pas.

Gosh, when was the last time I laughed like this?

“Oh, my god…” Jen howls and then swats at me. “Shut. Up!” As we simmer down from the joke, she turns her attention to Hannah. “How about you? How are things with Jaxson?”

Hannah, the wallflower of our group, blushes a bright shade of red, but it’s the worry lines across her forehead that bring seriousness back into the moment. “I’m, uh, not sure. I guess we’re okay.”

“What do you mean? What’s going on?” Jen asks.

“Let her finish before you go all matchmaker on her.” Nic chastises. “Go on Hannah. What did the bastard do?”

“It’s nothing like that. It’s just… I think he’s getting ready to propose.”

“Wait, that’s a good thing, isn’t it?” Jen, forever the romantic, asks in confusion.

“Wait, back up a second. What makes you think he’s about to propose?” Nic asks.

“It’s little things, like the way he strokes my ring finger when he holds my hand or how he sometimes stares at it as we talk. Plus, he keeps bringing up that he wants us to start a family soon, even though I’ve repeatedly told him I’m not ready.” She stops for a moment, deep in thought as her fingers swipe over the condensation on her wineglass. “I don’t know. I guess it could all be in my head, but it feels like he’s hinting that he’s ready for more.”

“And you’re not?” I ask, though, by the look on her face, I already know the answer.

“I-I don’t…” She trails off, her attention once again diverted to her drink.

This indecision isn’t like her, especially as it pertains to her relationship with Jaxson. From the moment they met, Hannah professed he was the one. A doctor just like her, who came from a similar background as she did. On paper, everything about them makes sense.

“I don’t know anymore. I used to be so sure. We both wanted the same things from the start. Careers first, then marriage, the house, then kids. Now that our practices are established, I know marriage is the next logical step, but I can’t see it. I don’t know why, but it doesn’t feel right, which is crazy because he’s so perfect, and we’re good. Great in fact, but…” She shakes her head and then sighs. “It seems too perfect. Too safe. Like, I’m settling because it’s easy, which I guess is alright. Except for this feeling in my gut that tells me it might not be enough.”

Inside, I cringe at her words. Too perfect? Too easy? I want to be a supportive friend, but it’s hard to understand her rationale, especially as I wish things in my marriage were still perfect and easy.

“Hey, you okay?” Jen asks in a soft voice, her hand reaching out to rest over mine. The tension on her face is a clear sign I inadvertently dropped my mask and let my feelings show.

“Sorry. Got lost in my thoughts.” I try to reassure her with what I hope is a genuine smile.

Pulling myself together, I turn to Hannah and offer my support. “I think you should take some time to figure out what you want. If marriage doesn’t feel right, you should tell him before he proposes. Though if I were you, I’d think hard before doing anything, because ending a near-perfect relationship makes little sense on its own. There’s got to be something else that’s making you hold back.”

“I agree. Talk to him and let him know you’re having second thoughts about the future. Tell him what you think is missing and it’ll give you both the opportunity to fix whatever that might be.” Jen says.

“You’re right. I will,” Hannah responds, a sad smile crossing her pretty face.

“Well, not that anyone asked for my two cents, but if you’re having doubts after six years of dating, then isn’t that your answer? Why waste any more of your time?” Nic scoffs.

Snarky comments about relationships are Nic’s defensive mask. Somewhere along the way, she convinced herself she’s happier alone. That her desire for a man only comes into play when her body requires release. But for those of us who know her well, it’s easy to see through her facade.

Nic had a rough start in life. Her scars run deep. The psychological trauma she endured taught her to push people away as a matter of self-preservation. Thus, she’s convinced herself she doesn’t need love beyond the relationships she’s already established with us and her brother. But the sadness that lingers below the surface comes out in palpable waves when the rest of us speak about the men we love. Her desire to be loved is ever-present but in constant battle with the lessons of her past. Lessons that taught her that love is a weapon others can wield against her.

“Anywho, let’s move on to Emi! How are things with Mr. Tall-Dark and Mysterious? Have you guys talked recently?” Jen interjects. Probably hoping to shield Hannah from Nic’s harsh relationship critique and inadvertently directing her ire toward me.

The mood shifts and it’s like the air in the room disappears, leaving my brain scrambling to come up with a response. Even my tried and true, well-practiced words are failing me now, rendering whatever I say next to sound untruthful. “Uh, he’s still working a case. There’s been little time to talk.” If it were anyone else, I could get away with the lie, but with this group…

“Do you at least know when he’ll be back?” Hannah questions. The look of concern on her face fills me with guilt, as I realize she might be the only one buying into my story. It’s not that she’s someone who’s easily tricked, but that she genuinely trusts that I’ll be honest with her. It makes my attempt at deception feel that much worse.

“Not yet. Soon, I hope.” Pasting a reassuring smile on my face, I move my trembling hands out of sight and onto my lap.

“This is crazy, Emi. He’s been gone for what, like three years. How often do you get to talk to him?” Jen asks, her expression a mixture of confusion and worry. Questions like this coming from Mom would feel like judgment, but from Jen, it’s genuine concern.

“Not as often as I’d like, but it’s okay. His job is important and needs to come first.” I answer, my eyes cast down. I can’t bring myself to look at them, for fear they’ll see the truth behind my lies.

“Why do you do that? Why do you make excuses for people who put their selfish needs above yours?” Nic asks, her head shaking in disbelief as I meet her gaze. “It’s the second time tonight you justify the horrible way you’re being treated. People only treat you as bad as you let them, Emi, so stop making it okay for them to dismiss you like you don’t matter. If not for you, then for the sake of your girls, who need to learn that in this misogynistic world, they must demand respect. There are too many men out there who build up their egos by tearing good women down. Even more, who trap women they’re not worthy of, only to convince them they don’t deserve more than the measly scraps of affection they throw their way.”

“Jesus Nic. What’s with you tonight?” Jen steps in to defend me, as I sit back in stunned silence.

“What’s with me?” She scoffs, her head shaking in disbelief. “What’s with me is that I’m tired of watching you hurt. I love you, Emi. You’re my sister by choice, which means I’ll never be okay sitting idly by as you fade away because somewhere along the way, you’ve forgotten your worth. Whether it started with your mom, Harold, Creed, or Lucas, I don’t know, but at some point, someone convinced you that you are lesser and that your needs are secondary. So, let me clarify it for you. You are not less, and your needs are just as important as theirs.” Lowering her voice, she leans forward, meeting my gaze. “It. Is. Time. Emilia. Time to shed the weight of the people who are holding you back, so you can return to your position of power. Back into the life of the woman you’re meant to be.”

Her words slice through me, the truth hitting so hard I’m unable to stop the tears when they come. The drops collect like burning pools before spilling down my face from the corners of my eyes. My throat, swollen with emotion, holds back the sounds of utter grief I feel. The memory of the papers I’ve yet to sign invades my thoughts. The ones I shoved into that yellow folder and buried deep in the bottom of a desk drawer.

Somehow, I know they’re what she’s referring to. It’s as if a proverbial blindfold has been ripped from my eyes, leaving me with the sudden realization that she’s most likely the lawyer who helped him craft them. His last instructions to me that night come back in a flash.

“Sign the papers, then get them to Nic. She knows what to do,” were his exact words as he walked out of our home for the last time. Which makes her the literal executioner of my marriage. The person assigned to file the paperwork that would forever condemn it as a failure.

How is it I didn’t put it all together back then? Was it the bliss of ignorance that lulled me into ignoring the obvious connection?

Yet, all this time, she knew!

All these years later and she’s never once brought it up.

Why is that? Has she been judging me for not taking this irrevocable step? Has she been conspiring with Creed while I worry and grieve over his disappearance?

Her betrayal is as humiliating as it is devastating. Her deception hurts far worse than his since she’s supposed to be my friend. One of three people in this world whom I trust implicitly.

“How dare you call yourself my sister in the same breath you remind me it was you who helped him destroy our life together?” I seethe, aware that Hannah and Jen don’t know what we’re talking about. Nor do they know how deeply and utterly Nic has betrayed me.

“That is not what I did, and deep down, you must know that. He came to me because he knew that I’d take care of you, that I’d make sure you got everything you were entitled to. He knew I’d pull no punches. That YOU would be my only priority, even though HE was the client.”

“So that’s it? That’s your defense. That he cared so much that he hired you, one of my best friends, to obliterate our life together. And that you, in your infinite wisdom and love for me, was like, okay. Sure, I’ll help you so we can destroy her the right way, all the while keeping what you were doing a secret from me. Screw you, Nic!” As I go to stand to leave, her raised voice stops me in my tracks.

“If not me, it would have been someone else.” Glaring at me with the cold, hard stare she’s perfected in the courtroom, she lowers her voice and then tells me. “Someone who would have looked out for his interests. Not yours. I helped him only to help you, and as unethical as that sounds, it’s what he wanted. He wanted me to fight him, to get you everything I could. He wanted me to stick it to him because he wanted you and the girls to be taken care of.”

“I see. So he loved me so intensely that, in divorcing me, he was willing to sacrifice himself. At any point did you bother to ask him why he wanted the divorce? Did you push him to get answers that would help make sense of his decision? Or were you that jealous of my life that you made it your pleasure to destroy the little happiness I had left?” The anger and pain burning through me demand that I scorch her world down to soot and ashes like she’s done to mine.

“What the hell is going on?” Jen’s voice cuts through the tension, bringing my awareness back to the crowded nightclub.

“I can’t do this right now. I’m sorry…” I stand abruptly, spinning on my heels in a race to escape the scene that’s decimating a lifetime of friendships. Not only Nic and I but the other two girls who I’m sure are feeling just as betrayed. It all came out like a dirty little secret. One they weren’t privy to, which makes it look like Nic and I conspired to keep them on the outside. Little do they know that if it were up to me, no one would be on the inside. Not even me.

“Emi, wait!”

Though I hear Nic calling out to me, I don’t stop. Stepping through the last of the crowd, I reach the exit and dash toward the parking lot in search of my car. The street is dark now, quiet except for the sound of my heels on the pavement and the muffled sounds of the music and people inside. But then she’s there, reaching for my arm and rendering a getaway without confrontation an impossibility.

“Emilia, please wait.” She says as her hold forces me to turn and face her.

“What do you want, Nic? What could you possibly say that’s going to fix this?”

“I’m sorry, okay? Everything I said was true. I only helped him after he made it clear that his decision was final. He was leaving and there was nothing anyone could say or do to change his mind. I swear, I questioned him. Repeatedly. Through every step of the process, I tried to dissuade him from filing, but his mind was made up. For your sake and the girls, it had to be me. I swear I took no pleasure in any of it because the last thing I’d ever want to do is hurt you and with what he was doing, I knew hurting you was inevitable. I am so sorry.”

In the twenty-five years I’ve known Nic, I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve seen her cry. But now, standing feet from one another, I watch my typically unemotional friend fall apart. It’s then that I realize what this has cost her. She’s telling the truth. She never intended to hurt me. But as much as I know I should forgive her, at this moment, with my wounds ripped open and my world in pieces, I just don’t have it in me.

“Have you talked to him?” I ask in a defiant tone, needing to know if she’s had a hand in his disappearance. “To Creed. Have you talked to my husband?”

“No. Not since the day he left.”

The fact she hasn’t heard from him since then doesn’t offer the solace I’d hoped for. Instead, it amps up the anxiety and fear as it reaffirms the depths of trouble Creed might be in. As much as he’s hurt me, I need to know that he’s okay. I need to understand what happened to him not only because I care, but because everything that’s happened to this point makes little sense. There are too many unanswered questions.

Turning my back to Nic, I move towards my car. After opening the driver-side door, I pause for a moment before facing her once more. “I believe everything you’ve told me, but right now, I can’t bring myself to forgive the part you played. In all honesty, I don’t know when or if I ever will.”

Author's Note:

So, I know exactly what you're thinking!
 How in the world is Emilia just putting together that it was her friend Nic, who helped her husband with the divorce papers? I asked myself this very same question as the story poured out of me, and came to the conclusion that she likely chose to ignore the facts staring her right in the face. You see, this is who Emilia is. She avoids conflict and prefers denial and pretense to having to confront hard things. It's why when her husband left, instead of signing, she chose to shove the papers into a drawer where they still sit three years later.

So now it's your turn. What do you think? Does Nic deserve to be forgiven for not telling Emilia when Creed hired her to draw up divorce papers? I can't wait to read your comments!

Want to read ahead? Get EARLY ACCESS to this story ON REAM. (Link in my profile)

For updates on this and future stories, remember to follow me.

NEW CHAPTERS post at 7:00 PM EST on Tuesdays & Fridays!!!

Chapter 4

Emilia

My sweetest Emilia,

If you’re reading this letter, it means I’ve left this world before fulfilling my last promise to you. For that, my sweet girl, I’m sorry. Leaving you before finding him wasn’t part of my plan.

Please know that I fought hard to stay for as long as I could. In the end, it must have been god’s will for things to turn out this way. I know it’s of no consolation to you right now, but I’m asking you to have a little faith. There’s a plan at work here, one whose purpose will someday be revealed. If you believe nothing else in this letter, please believe that.

I know that with me gone and Lucas missing, you’re probably feeling so very alone. That’s why I’m writing this letter to you today. So that you know my last thoughts on this earth were of you, and to make you a promise that I hope will help. It’s a heavenly vow of sorts, and one I intend to keep. So here it is Emilia. My pledge to you is that NEVER AGAIN will I leave you to walk this world alone.

From the moment my soul moves into the beyond, I vow I will be by your side. I will be there from the moment you wake, when you’re sad, and when you’re scared. I will walk with you as you achieve everything you dream of. And I’ll be there to comfort you when life doesn’t go as planned. To find me, all you have to do is look. I will be there in the birds and the trees. In the sky and in the breeze. I will be the butterfly that flutters by, and the lightning bug that lights your summer nights. I’ll be in every sunset, in every sunrise, and in every moment that lights your heart. They will all be me, sweetheart, reminding you I’m still there to lift you up and make you smile.

While I don’t know what the future holds, upon reaching the pearly gates, I will demand that someone fill me in. That way, I’ll know the exact moments you’ll need me most. So, I can be there in whatever form will bring you peace.

Unfortunately, as much as I’d love to protect you from life’s painful lessons, they are essential to your journey. So, as you enter this new phase of life without your dad, please do so with an open mind and an open heart. Walk into the hard and face the darkness when it comes, for often the only way back to the light is through.

And while in the dark sweetheart, cry if you need, for tears are the tried-and-true way to cleanse away the pain. Do your best to be brave, but know it’s okay to lean on others when you feel you can’t go on. People who will build you up and remind you just how strong you are. Most of all, remember there’s a purpose behind it all. The struggle will build you up and make you shine; brighter and brighter than the star you already are.

Lastly, my sweet Emilia, I vow I will keep my eye on him. I promise to help him find comfort in his sadness, and I’ll remain close to him to ensure he’s never alone again. Hopefully, with a lot of prayers (from you) and some heavenly magic (from me), we can get him to come home. But you know how stubborn he is, so until then pray and have faith that I’m taking care of things on my end.

Oh, and a piece of advice from a man who’s made his fair share of mistakes and had to learn the hard way. When the big dummy does return, don’t forgive him too quickly. Make him work for it, at least a little. So, he’ll be forced to make amends, since by then it should be clear that living without you is not an easy feat. Trust me on this, my darling. It’ll be hard, but if he stays and does the right things, you’ll know he’s ready, and that he’s playing for keeps.

I’m afraid this is the end of my physical journey, my girl, but I’m excited to get started on my new spiritual adventure, which I’ll undertake at your side. Thank you for the amazing opportunity of watching you grow up. Thank you for making me a father. And most of all, thank you for the unconditional love you gave me so freely. I love you so much Emilia, with all my heart, all my soul, and everything that I am. You’re the best thing I’ve ever done. The greatest miracle I ever witnessed. The most amazing being that ever graced my life. You are everything, and so much more than I ever dreamed.

Love you always and forevermore,

Dad

P.S. Close your eyes, sweetheart, then take a deep breath. When you’re ready, open them up and come find me. I’m there with you right now. You’ll see.

---

With a heavy sob, I clutch Daddy’s words against my heart. I was so desperate for comfort after the blow-up with Nic that when I got home, I reached for the box of mementos that connect me to him. Wiping my eyes, I start from the top and read it again. Of all the letters he wrote in his final months, this is my favorite. It was his last one and held his most precious thoughts. Even bound to a bed with his body failing, he knew exactly what I’d need to cope with his absence. His promise to always be there, that I could find him at every turn, made it so there hasn’t been a day where I haven’t felt his presence. Especially when I need his comfort the most.

Closing my eyes, I take a deep breath as his letter says, and when I open them again to search for traces of him as if on cue, the sound of the doorbell chimes around me. It makes me smile. Though the timing is likely coincidental, I’d like to think it’s Daddy letting me know he’s here. My smile is short-lived, however, when I think of who might be at the door. Given the late hour, I can only assume the unexpected guest is Jen or Nic, since neither is known for respecting boundaries. The thought of rehashing everything that happened tonight with either of them makes my stomach sour.

Setting the letter on the coffee table, I make my way to the foyer, stopping at the mirror by the front door to inspect my appearance. The carefully applied makeup I wore for girls’ night is a mess, with black lines trailing my face from mascara-laced tears. My unexpected guest rings the bell several more times, as I work to wipe away the evidence of my latest breakdown.

“Emi, I know you’re there. Open this door. I’m not leaving until we talk.”

My stomach drops at the sound of Jen’s voice coming from the other side of the door. How in the world am I going to explain this to her? Why I’ve lied and kept everything from her? That I haven’t shared what’s going on in my life is going to hurt her.

Resigned to my fate, I open the door and step aside. Not needing an invitation, she bursts through dramatically, before slamming the door shut behind her.

“What the hell’s going on, Emi?”

Unsure of where to begin, I sigh, then step around her, walking towards the kitchen. “Come on. I’ll pour us a drink.” When she takes a seat at my kitchen island, I ask her, “Did Nic send you?”

“No. She left after you did. Hannah’s at her place, making sure she’s okay. I’m here to do the same for you. Now, are you going to tell me what’s going on?”

Reaching up into the cabinet, I grab two wine glasses from the set Nic gifted Creed and me on our wedding day. The irony doesn’t escape me.

“It’s a long story. One, I don’t have the energy for tonight, but I promise I’ll share when I’m ready.” Grabbing the already-opened bottle of Cabernet from the fridge, I pour each of us a full glass. “If it helps, I’d like it if you stay with me tonight. Or at least stay long enough so I can grovel and get you to forgive me.” With an apologetic smile, I set a glass of wine in front of her.

“Fine. I’ll give you time, but you have to give me something, Emi. Let me in just a little, at least to prove that you still trust me. Because honestly, after tonight, it feels like I’m no longer your person. Which hurts. A lot.”

“You’re still my person.” I choke out through the lump in my throat. Handing her my drink, I then ask, “Would you mind taking these to the living room while I go freshen up? I’ll only be a minute.”

Needing a second to pull myself together, I take the stairs up to the master bedroom. After everything that’s happened, I need comfort. Especially for the conversation I’m about to have. Slipping out of the dress, I make quick work of changing into a pair of black leggings and a light pink sweater. Then I step into my bathroom to wash away the ruined makeup from my face.

I can do this , I remind myself. It’s Jen. My adoptive sister, and best friend. She loves me and will understand that I’m not ready to explain everything right now. At least that’s what I hope.

Now cleaned up, I look over my reflection in the mirror. The sadness and exhaustion still linger as dark circles under my red-rimmed eyes, but there’s not much I can do about it now.

When I walk back into the living room, the sight of Jen reading my father’s letter stops me in my tracks. Instantly, I want to snatch it from her. The jealousy that she’s reading words that were meant for me rides me hard. But when she looks up at me with a smile and tears in her eyes, it’s then I remember how much my father meant to her, too.

“He wrote about Lucas? About watching over him?” She shakes her head with a look of wonder, as if she’s having trouble believing what she’s read. But then her smile grows wide just as a sob bursts from her chest.

“He loved him. Just as he loved you.” I tell her, taking the seat next to her so I can hold her hand.

“I know he did,” she sighs, her head coming to rest on my shoulder. “He wrote letters for me too, but in mine, he barely mentioned Lucas. Only to say that he knew someday he’d come back for me. He reassured me that Lucas would never abandon me. That it was the pain of losing our parents that proved to be too much for him. He told me to have faith that we’d be reunited someday.”

“That was my dad. Faith got him through everything.”

“Do you still think of him? Of Lucas?”

I take a second, not because I don’t know the answer to her question, but to tamp down the emotion that comes over me whenever Lucas comes to mind. “Yeah. I do,” I tell her, attempting to sound unaffected. Truth is, in the almost 15 years he’s been gone, not a day has gone by that I haven’t thought of him.

“You always did like him better than me.” She chuckles, her affection for both her brother and me coming through in her playful tone.

“Not better, just different. He got me, you know? Without having to say a word, he knew what was going on inside my head. He was a lot like my dad in that way. I think that’s why we were so close.”

“I remember,” she responds quietly, before a comfortable silence falls between us. “Emi. Whatever is going on with you, I hope you know you can trust me. Whatever you need, I’ll always be here.” She reminds me, a hint of sadness seeping through in her words.

“I know. Honestly, I haven’t said anything because I’m not ready. Nic only knows Creed’s side of what happened, and only up to when he left three years ago. A lot has happened since then. Things I’m not at liberty to discuss because of his job, but I will, Jen. I promise. When I’m able to, you’ll be the first person I call.”

She nods her head silently, but then sits up and shifts her legs underneath her so she’s facing me on the couch. Her demeanor changes before my eyes as a nervous energy vibrates through her.

“I was going to wait, but after the crappy night we had, I think we’re due a little happiness. I have news!”

“What?” I ask, her sudden mood swing making me chuckle.

“EEK! Okay. Gosh…” she laughs and bounces in her seat. “I swear, I’ve imagined this moment for years, but now that it’s here, I don’t know how to say it.”

“Just spit it out. Whatever it is, rip the Band-Aid.”

“I’m pregnant!” She blurts, leaving me stunned for a breath before I wrap her up in a hug. Squeals of utter joy rip out from both of us and by the time we pull apart, happy tears stream down both our faces.

“But wait. Tonight. You were drinking.”

“Nope, apple juice, courtesy of Nic’s bartending love interest.”

I am beyond ecstatic for her and Ben. For seven years, I’ve watched their heartbreaking journey through infertility. After rounds and rounds of tests, procedures, and disappointments, news of this baby couldn’t come at a better time.

“I’m so happy for you. Now tell me everything. How did Ben take it? He must be over the moon!”

“God yes! In the two weeks since we found out, he’s bought the baby every Philadelphia sports team jersey he could get his hands on. You know how I feel about sports. He’s driving me crazy.”

Through glassy eyes, we both laugh. Jen has an aversion to any activity that makes you sweat, while her husband is a die-hard sports fan all year long.

“How far along are you? When will we get to meet the little guy or gal?”

“As of this past Tuesday, I was 6 weeks. My due date is December 29th, so maybe we’ll have a New Year’s baby.”

“What an amazing start to the new year.”

“I know. It’s a little early to celebrate…” she shrugs, “but we saw the heartbeat and the doctor said everything looks good. For now, you’re the only one who knows. Everyone else can wait until we reach the 12-week mark.” She explains as she wipes away the moisture from her eyes.

“I’m so excited for you,” I tell her.

“Me too. I only wish…” Her face grows somber as she looks over to the coffee table where my father’s letter sits.

“Your parents,” I assume. “I’m sorry Jen. I’m sure they’re up there right now, celebrating the news alongside my dad.”

“I’m sure, but it’s not just them.” When her eyes meet mine, they’re filled with so much pain. “I wish Lucas were here to experience this with me.” At the feel of my emotions welling up, I drop my gaze. “Everything’s going to be okay, right?” She asks nervously as she takes my hands in hers.

“With Dad watching over us, there’s not a doubt in my mind,” I respond with certainty, mostly to reassure myself. “As Dad said, we just have to wait and have a little faith.”

“What about Nic? Emi, whatever she did, I don’t think she meant to hurt you.”

“I know. I just need a little time.”

From the divorce papers to Creed’s disappearance, and now Nic’s involvement. To say I’m overwhelmed by the number of things that need processing is an understatement. Standing, I grab my empty wineglass and her still full one and head back towards the kitchen.

“You should have told me you couldn’t drink. I would have gotten you water instead.”

“I was more concerned with making sure you were okay,” she sighs. “You are okay, right?”

Rinsing the wine glasses, I let her question sink in. For a second, I consider spewing the same half-truths I’ve perfected over the past three years, but after tonight, the least I owe her is this bit of truth.

“I’m not okay.” I dry my hands on the dishtowel, then toss it back on the counter before turning to face her. “But I will be.”

Stepping towards me, she wraps me up in a hug and then says, “No matter what, I’m here. All you have to do is ask.”

Author's Note:

Oh, the feels! 
I wholeheartedly admit that writing that letter from Emilia's father made me cry. Emilia's father played an instrumental part in the beginning of Lucas and Emilia's story, some of which was revealed in the prequel 
THAT FIRST BREAK
, and others that will come out as their story continues to evolve. 

So what do you think of this chapter? I can't wait to read all your comments!

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Chapter 5

Lucas

As I feared, the peace I’ve grown accustomed to over the past few months is fleeting. The pressure in my chest grows tighter and tighter the closer we get to our destination.

Feeling the progress I’ve made over the past few months dwindle away is demoralizing, especially since a part of me hoped the Navy docs were wrong. That with time and a lot of hard work, I’d someday return to the man I used to be. The sure-footed, unflappable operator who could walk into the most dangerous of situations and execute the mission to plan. The fact my heart is pounding out of my chest at the mere thought of entering a sleepy little town, all but confirms that part of me is gone. For a man like me, whose purpose and identity were built around my career as a Navy SEAL, this setback feels like a sentence worse than death.

Rubbing the back of my neck, I take a deep breath before exhaling loudly. The nervous energy surging through me makes it feel like the world around me could come crashing down at any moment. Since choosing to return to this place, I’m back to teetering on the edge, waiting for that final blow that will push me over the point of no return.

It’s a fucking struggle. Like swimming against the current with your feet and hands tied behind your back, except much worse. For unlike in my drown-proofing training at BUD/S, that inner voice that evokes calm and a calculated plan for survival is replaced by demonic voices that question what the hell is the point. Why fight? Why struggle to survive if all that is left of my life is this hopeless and bottomless pit of suffering?

Thankfully, the feel of Nero’s cold nose poking at my shoulder pulls me out of the dark thoughts before they fully take hold. It’s why he’s here.

“I’m good. We’re good.” I try to reassure us both, the warm softness of his fur under my fingers helps settle my unease. “Everything’s going to be alright. We go in, do some recon, then lie low until it’s time. I got your six, and you got mine.”

I pat his head with my free hand one last time, keeping the other on the steering wheel. Determination courses through me as I work through the plan. Focus on the mission and trust in the team. That’s how we both made it through our military tours, and that’s how we’ll make it through this weekend.

“Keep it together, Holt. It’s only two nights.” I tell myself.

Tapping the steering wheel nervously with my thumbs, I notice the Welcome to Ruby Creek sign coming into view. My eyebrows draw together, as once again I question my decision to stay at the Old Mill Inn. At one time, the Inn was run by an old friend of Dad’s, but since the old guy would have to be in his 90s, I’m counting on the fact he should have retired by now. With luck, whoever runs the place won’t recognize me.

As for the rest of the town, I’ll do my best to not venture out during the day when most of the townspeople are out and about. It’s doable but will prove a challenge, given that Main Street is the business district of the town. Everything from the Inn, to the local bar, the grocery store, the barbershop, the diner…. just about every business is located off or near that major stretch of road. It’s a guarantee that someone will notice my arrival, which means it won’t be long before news of the derelict drifter with a dog makes its way through the town. I was 17 years old the last time I was here, so I’m hoping that buys me at least some anonymity. If not that, then the homeless mountain man look I’ve adopted in my depressive state will hopefully do the trick.

“Of all the weekends, why did it have to be this one?” I ask Nero, who cocks his head to the side like he’s trying to understand what I’m babbling on about.

I had every intention of staying outside the town limits in one of the neighboring campgrounds. That plan went to hell thanks to the warming spring weather and the fact it’s Mother’s Day weekend. Every campground and hotel in a 70-mile radius of Ruby Creek was sold out. The Old Mill Inn was the only one with availability, thanks to a last-minute cancelation-per the man who confirmed my reservation.

“It’s crazy how little this place has changed,” I tell Nero, who eyes me suspiciously. His ears in constant motion as he tunes in to the surrounding sounds.

Considered a small mountain town, Ruby Creek sits at the center of the Allegheny Mountains in Pennsylvania. Its lower elevation offers a beautiful 360-degree view of the mountain ranges that surround it. While it doesn’t offer much in the way of skiing like the neighboring communities, its mountain climbing and hiking trails are some of the best in the area. And the fishing, Christ! I still remember that 38-inch Northern Pike we caught at Ruby Creek Lake when I was 15. Though not native to our waters, somehow the beasts moved into the area and made a home there.

“Before we leave, we should do a little fishing. What do you say, boy?” Beside me Nero whines, his eyes scanning the world outside his window. The unfamiliar area is making him restless and stirring up his need to get out of the car and explore. “Just a few minutes more.” I rub my hand over his ears to calm him.

Though I try not to think about it, growing up in this town was the highlight of my life. Back when I was a kid, I never imagined living anywhere else. Being born into a small town doesn’t only mean you know most of the residents, it also makes you part of a tight-knit community. The people of this town take care of their own. Even those nurturing feuds that span generations will stand by one another, especially against outsiders. If you’re from here, no matter who you are or where you’ve been, you belong here. Aside from this town, the only other place I felt that kind of camaraderie was with my brothers and sisters in arms.

Pulling into the grocery store parking lot, I’m relieved to find only a few cars. It shouldn’t surprise me, considering it’s 6:30 on Saturday morning. Sometimes I forget normal people start their day after the sun rises. It’s a luxury Nero and I rarely partake in, since most nights we’re kept awake by the hyper-awareness that comes from knowing that darkness is the perfect cover for the enemy to hide. It’s yet another lingering aftershock from our previous life.

After turning off my truck, I reach for my phone and wallet, then signal for Nero to get in position so I can strap on his vest. As a retired CAD, or Combat Assault Dog, the harness is his uniform. He’s used to it, having worn one throughout his career. This one is like the ones he used in Afghanistan. The only difference is the Service Dog patch, which I had added when I relocated him to New York. Though not entirely true for Nero, it signals to anyone we encounter that he’s not a pet.

While you wouldn’t know it by looking at him, Nero went to war and almost died fighting for our country. Trained to do everything from parachuting out of planes, sniffing out explosives, and taking down armed assailants, at one time, the government considered him a weapon in our SEAL arsenal. Though he’s obedient and follows my every command, he too has his share of PTSD triggers that could prove dangerous to those unaware they should keep their distance. It’s a risk I took on when I agreed to adopt him from the program, and it’s why I do everything in my power to ensure he always feels safe. The patch serves the dual purpose of protecting him from the public while protecting the public from him.

Getting out of the truck with leash in hand, slight pressure is all it takes to get him to follow. His body is on high alert with eyes up, eagerly awaiting my command. Even in retirement, he’s ready to work.

“Let’s get this done,” I tell him as he follows at my side. His watchful eyes scan our surroundings as we move, glancing up at me every now and again to ensure he doesn’t miss a hand signal.

We only need a few things to hold us over. Enough so we don’t have to leave our room at the Inn until late in the evenings. Some water, protein bars, dog food, and maybe some jerky for us to share. Entering the store, I’m relieved when I don’t recognize anyone. Though I know we’ve been spotted by the few who are either insomniacs or woke at the crack of dawn to be here, we keep to ourselves. I make quick work of grabbing the few things we need, and I’m grateful when I see the self-checkout lanes. It allows me to scan, bag, and pay for my things without having to talk to anyone. It’s not until I’m walking back to the parking lot that I feel the electrifying tension coiling up my spine.

The sudden weight in the pit of my stomach as my body responds to a perceived threat slows time. My senses heighten as I scan the area, which is when I see it . Immediately, the alarms go off. My nervous system kicks in and my heart pounds in my chest. Everything inside me screams I run, that I move to evade, but try as I might, I’m frozen in place. Unable to move. Barely able to breathe.

Tuned into my moment of panic, Nero emits a warning growl. His eyes come to me, looking for the signal granting him permission to neutralize the threat. And that’s when I hear it . The sound of my past, colliding with my present and obliterating any hope I had of making it out of this town unscathed.

“Lucas?”

The sound of her voice is like a cool spring breeze blowing on overheated skin. The initial shock to the system urges me to turn away, but the welcomed relief is comfort like I’ve never felt. It’s a stark contradiction. A huge breath escapes my lips, as I remain locked upon the whiskey eyes that still haunt my dreams. As if the world has been tilted on its axis, the tension in my body is replaced by shaky limbs, and it takes considerable effort to keep from falling to my knees. Caught somewhere between the past and the present, I’m unable to formulate a coherent thought, except for the one that demands I confirm it’s her.

“Embree…?” Her name on my lips is like a balm to my soul. My mouth parts in an attempt to communicate, but the only things that come to mind are painful memories from our past. Our last night together. The way she saved my life back in that hole. How over the years her words have pulled me back from the brink of death, time and time again.

Fuck, is this all in my head? This can’t be real. She can’t be…

“Oh god. It is you.” Eyes wide, and with a hand over her mouth, she shakes her head ever so slightly. When she takes a step towards me, a hand out as if needing to touch me, the deep rumbling of Nero’s growl vibrates up the leach snapping me into action.

“Nero, af,” I command while giving him the down signal. Immediately he obeys and lays at my feet, his tense posture relaxing in an instant. Now disarmed, he eyes our guest with nervous energy, looking from her to me and back again in anticipation that I’ll release him from the command so he can go say hello. Just like that, he went from combat assault dog to pet. It amazes me how easy it is for him to let the tension go. If only it were that easy for me.

Focusing my attention back on her, I nod. “Hi…” it’s the only word I can muster before emotion closes in around my throat.

“I-I thought that was you.” She gives me what I can only describe as a sad smile. Her eyes are glossy and filled with emotion as she searches my face. I can only imagine what she thinks of what she sees. This broken shell of a man completely changed and the opposite of the boy she used to know. The boy who betrayed her trust and took from her before abandoning her. The shame that slams into me is overwhelming. The pained look in her eyes and the beauty that is all her only magnify the extent of my failures. Everything compounds in my head, as does the hatred for who I am and what I’ve done. I’m not worthy of her. I’ve always known it. And yet… why can’t I bring myself to end this standoff and walk away?

Before I know what’s happening, she launches herself into my arms. My hands instinctually wrap around her as she collapses against me. And then I feel it. An overwhelming sense of relief. The peace I’ve always known is missing. Memories of my time in the hole come back to me in an instant, attempting to convince my subconscious that she isn’t really here. But my confusion is short-lived. Thanks to the warmth that presses against me, the feel of her body shaking amidst quiet sobs. With her face buried in the crook of my neck, I feel the wetness of her tears as they catch on my shirt. The brush of her warm breath on my skin elicits goosebumps that spread over my body.

When she pulls back to look at me, the trust and adoration I see in her eyes steals my breath. This is the look that kept me alive all those weeks stuck in that damn hole. It’s the look that latched onto my soul and refused to let me give up. In all the years I’ve been alive, no one has ever looked at me the way she does. Like I’m the most powerful man that has ever lived. Like I’m someone capable of just about anything. Someone she trusts to go to the ends of the universe for her. Unfortunately, as much as I wish that were true, it’s all a lie. Time and time again, I’ve proven as much.

“I can’t believe you’re here.” She gives me a sad smile, while one of her hands comes up to caress the side of my face. The intimate contact is foreign, yet so welcomed that I lean into her touch. My eyes close of their own accord as emotion burns behind them. Her touch. The feel of her skin against my face pulls at the memories of the imaginary life I created for us. The delusions that pushed me to fight through the pain and granted me the will to survive. Having her here in the flesh, so close that I can breathe her in and feel the warmth of her skin, brings it all back.

I fell in love with her all over again in that miserable place. And when I survived, I grieved for our love, for that life that never was and would never be. The intense feelings catch me off guard, and a muffled sob breaks through my lips. Embarrassed by my outburst, I reach for her hand to gently pull it away. Free of her touch, I take a few breaths, trying to regain my composure. With my eyes still burning with unshed moisture, I can’t bring myself to look at her.

Christ! I never should have come back here.

Knowing I have to say something, I go with the first thing that comes to mind. “I’m sorry. For everything.”

It’s all I have. A blanket apology for leaving her all those years ago. For still wanting her all these years later. For not being good enough for her. For using the memory of our time together to save myself over and over again, even though I don’t deserve it. Maybe even for crying like a fucking baby when I’m the one who did this to her. To us.

Through tears, she gives me a sad smile, but then I lose her eyes as Nero places himself between us. His body dances in front of her as he waits for her to pet him.

“Uh, this is Nero. My dog,” I tell her, my voice still thick with emotion.

I’m captivated by the sound of her laughter when she squats down to greet him, and he takes the opportunity to lick her face. God, I’d forgotten that amazing sound. How I wish I could bottle it up to replay it on nights when the demons in my head won’t shut the hell up.

“Well, hi there, Nero. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Coming back to a stand, she continues to pet him, though her attention returns to me. “He’s beautiful. A German Shepherd?”

“Um… no, Belgian Malinois. They’re similar, but have shorter coats, and are leaner than Shepherds.”

Silence falls between us once more, our eyes locked on one another as though neither of us can help it. I can’t explain it, but after so many years of relying only on memories, I can’t take my eyes off her. She’s so damn beautiful, even more so than I had imagined. My hands ache to reach out and touch her beautiful skin, to run my fingers through those dark wavy strands, and hold her in my arms just like I did back in those dreams. But I’m so fucking scared. Terrified if I do, like in the dreams, she’ll fade to black and disappear.

“Are you back? To visit or stay, I mean.” She asks sheepishly, before turning away and reaching into her purse.

When I see that it’s her phone she’s reaching for, I gently grab hold of her wrist and beg, “Please don’t. No one can know I’m here. I…” Ashamed of my words, I look away from her questioning stare. “Uh, I’m here on business.”

“Oh. Oh! Of course. Where are you staying?”

I hesitate, running all possible answers through my head before settling on the truth.

“At the Old Mill Inn. It’s only two nights. I have a meeting in town first thing Monday, and then I have to get back.”

“Back?” she questions. Confusion and hurt are interlaced in her expression.

“Back to base. I’m on leave.” The blatant lie leaves a bitter taste, but it’s what’s best. In this case, lying to her about why I can’t stay is better than telling her the truth.

“Oh.” Her head lowers, breaking the spell between us.

Still frozen, I watch as she wraps her arms around her body, disappointment evident in her movements. I can tell this isn’t the news she wanted to hear.

Unable to stop myself, I reach a shaky hand to her chin, lifting her gaze back to mine. The instant our eyes connect, euphoria like I haven’t felt in years flutters in my chest. The want, the deep need to pull her into my arms. It’s overwhelming. Her presence is like pure adrenaline, bringing parts of me I’d long thought were dead back to life.

I’m captivated.

I watch as my thumb traces the line under her gorgeous lower lip. Plump and pink, it tempts me. But then I see it. A lone tear trailing down from the corner of her eye. It guts me. Reminding me I’m a piece of shit for hurting her. For forgetting the damage and pain I left behind in my wake. Instead, here I am distracted by lust, putting my own needs before hers yet again. She deserves so much better than an asshole like me.

“I’m here for two days, Emb. What can I do to make this right?” My voice wavers as an internal battle rages within me. My common sense demands I put an end to this, that I get in my truck and get the hell out of this town. But it’s the 17-year-old boy who’s never forgiven himself for leaving her, who wins out. I can’t do this to her again. I won’t make that mistake a second time.

Her eyes scan between my own, before she asks, “Make what right?”

“This.” With my thumb, I brush away another stray tear.

She takes a few seconds before she answers. “Can you make time for me? So we can sit and talk?”

“Yes,” I answer immediately, not taking the time to consider the ramifications. Surprised by my answer, I remove my hands from her face and take a step back while praying to God she doesn’t notice my sudden discomfort. Thankfully, she looks away and reaches back into her handbag for her phone.

“Here, let me call you so you have my number. Then we can figure out a time that works.”

Hopeful eyes look at me once more, warm relief flooding my system with each second that her sadness fades. Even so, I hesitate. Giving her my number opens a door that for years, I fought hard to keep closed. But in the end, I relent. My need to fix the damage I’ve caused wins out over my fear.

I watch as she dials my number, and then I hear the ringing of my phone when the call connects. That’s when she rewards me with her smile. The happy one she’d give me whenever I played a song for her. Or on those amazing summer nights when we chased each other in the moonlight and swam together in the lake. Her smile is like sunshine. Its brightness is more precious than gold. The feeling of it is everything that I remember, and I’m spellbound. Completely awe-struck.

“There. Now we can talk…” Her voice trails off, as her arms come around me once more.

This time, the feeling of her body against mine brings the reality of our situation to the forefront of my mind. Waves of panic slam into me as the pressure of a looming panic attack builds. Needing the space, I pull away from her, my hands resting on her arms as I try to create distance.

“Embree… please don’t tell anyone. I’m not sure if I’ll have time to see them.” Saying it out loud makes me feel like shit, so like a coward, I avert my gaze toward Nero who’s patiently watching our awkward exchange.

“I understand. Can I text you in about an hour to confirm a time that works?”

“Sure.” Unable to resist, I lean in and kiss the top of her head. Her scent invades my senses, sparking even more memories. She smells of summer, coconut, and something sweet. The familiar fragrance takes me back to all those summer nights spent lounging by the lake, catching fireflies and being carefree. And just like that, the panic in my veins disappears. It’s like she’s my cure. The remedy for my misery. Which reminds me of all the reasons I shouldn’t be here.

Pulling away, I give her a gentle smile and then tell her. “I’ll talk to you soon.”

Then, with a small tug on the leash, Nero and I step aside and walk back to the truck. With every step that I take, there’s this pull that makes me want to turn back. Tugging and demanding, it yanks at my damn heart, growing stronger and stronger until tears once again prick at my eyes. Still, I keep walking. Choosing instead to lean into the pain since suffering is exactly what I deserve.  

Author's Note:

Have I mentioned how much I love writing Lucas? 
He's such a complex character. He's a perfectionist by nature and is driven by a strong sense of doing what is right. The problem is when he fails to meet the impossible standards he's set for himself, he succumbs to self-loathing. Lucas truly believes he's not a good man. That he's not trustworthy or capable. His sense of self is so skewed, that it's going to take a hell of a woman to make him see what the rest of the world already does.

AND NERO...
 you guys, I cannot tell you how much fun I had researching Combat Assault Dogs in the Navy. These animals along with their handlers are amazing!!! Nero will play a big part in the resolution of this story, and I cannot wait for you to see the amazing things he can do.

So tell me what you think about this chapter. I can't wait to read all your comments!

Want to read ahead?

 FOLLOW ME on REAMand get the NEXT 2 CHAPTERS FREE

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Chapter 6

Emilia

It’s crazy how one tragic event can derail the rest of your life. How circumstances outside your control can thwart even the best-laid plans. It wasn’t until he left me standing in that parking lot yesterday that I realized how true this is for us.

For him, Jen, and me, that one event forever changed the course of our lives. It shifted our world, skewing our individual realities and turning them into something foreign. Nothing made sense after what happened and our paths, which were once joined, veered apart in ways none of us saw coming. Even now, almost 15 years later, we haven’t recovered. I suspect all of us are still a little lost, doing our best to navigate a world that will always feel wrong.

For Lucas and me, the fire and subsequent death of his parents signaled the beginning of the end. It was a prelude to the actual end, which came seven days later on the night after the funeral. I don’t know what woke me, but I found him sitting alone in our living room. A broken boy sobbing into his hands. Though the room was blanketed in darkness, I could see him clearly. His shoulders slumped in grief. Elbows on his knees. His hair was a frazzled mess like he’d run his hands through it repeatedly.

Next to my father, he was the strongest person I’d ever known. Someone unshakable, who no matter the predicament, would stand tall and steadfast in the face of it. It’s why seeing him so crushed and defeated that night was as shocking as it was heartbreaking.

With tense muscles, I hurried to him, kneeling at his feet as I pulled his hands from his face and brought him into my arms. I remember holding him, both of us clinging to one another like we were keeping the other afloat. The uncertainty of a future we’d never imagined hung heavy in the air like a poisonous cloud threatening to suffocate us.

I remember closing my eyes and praying between sobs that somehow this was all a dream. That life as we’d known it and the security we’d taken for granted was still our reality. But the shuddering agony mixed with the feel of our tears as we purged our grief left me no choice but to accept the inconceivable truth.

His parents were gone.

Life as we’d known it was over and there was nothing I could do to fix it. But I could be there for him. Like he’d done for me a thousand times before, I vowed to help him get beyond the grief.

After what seemed like forever, our tears stopped. Together we sat back on the couch, holding hands as we talked. The conversation kept to lighter topics at first. Funny stories he brought up, probably to lighten the mood. At one point, he grew somber again. It was then that he shared his version of events that night…

“My parents went to bed early. I’d told them I’d be home. That I wouldn’t be attending the bonfire after all. I was so sure keeping my distance from you was the best thing for everyone, but as I sat in my room with the walls closing in, I couldn’t do it. The thought of you with Parker, of him being the one to hold you that night. To kiss you… I just couldn’t. Without thinking, I grabbed my keys, wrote my parents a quick note, and then rushed out the door. I never imagined that would be my last time walking out of our house. The last time I’d share a roof with my parents. The last time I’d feel completely at ease and safe in my own existence.”

“It wasn’t your fault, Lucas. The fire marshal said…”

“For god’s sake,” he springs to his feet. Running a hand over his face in frustration, he adds, “I know what the fire marshal said. I know I couldn’t have stopped the fire, but if I’d been there, the three of us would have made it out.”

“You don’t know that, Lucas. You can’t know what would have happened.”

“Yes, I do,” he raises his voice to a loud whisper. With eyes like icy daggers, he stares me down. “I do know because that same fire marshal told your dad that my mom made it out, that my parents had a chance to escape, but that something drew them back into the house. They thought I was home. They went back in to save me and I wasn’t even there. They suffocated and burned in a scorching inferno trying to save a son who, by all accounts, is the only person who deserved to die that night.” His words are spoken with such certainty and contempt that I’m left gasping for breath.

“I killed them. Me going after you that night is the reason my parents are dead!”

And that was the biggest tragedy of all. That the boy I loved, the boy who’d rushed to the bonfire that night to tell me he loved me and wanted to be with me, would forever connect one of the best moments of my life with his parent’s death. That he blamed himself wasn’t the worst part. No. The worst part was that deep down, I could tell that he blamed us. What we had. The feelings that drew us together and bind me to him still.

I was so distraught after he confessed his thoughts that all I wanted was to erase it all. His guilt over that night. His regret. The ache that pounded in our chests with the harried beat of our grief-stricken hearts. So I reached for him. Using my words at first, before finally taking his face in my hands. I wanted to force him to look at me, force him to listen to my words so he could see that nothing about us was a mistake.

When he did, those sea-green eyes peered through me with an intensity I could feel like a caress down to my core. And when he kissed me, when he finally let go and gave in to the inevitable pull between us, I thought the slate had been wiped clean.

At 17 and 16 years old, we weren’t old enough to understand the repercussions of that kiss or how grief impacted our decisions that night. I gave him my virginity right there on my parent’s living room floor, on the night of his parent’s funeral. It was a gift he told me he’d cherish for the rest of his life. As he leaned down to kiss me when we were done, he told me he loved me. The sincerity behind his words struck deep and imprinted onto my soul. I knew at that very moment that my heart would always belong to him.

When I left to go back to my bed, I had no idea that would be the last time I saw him. All I knew when I closed my eyes that night was that in him, I had found someone who trusted me to be their savior. Someone who looked at me like I could make everything in their world right again. Never had I felt anything like it. By trusting me that night, he made me feel like I was so much more. But then, by that next morning, he was gone.

I thought I knew heartbreak when I walked in on him that night, but waking up to find out he’d disappeared was when I realized how deep that pit of despair can go. From that day forward I grieved mostly for him, the sad boy who carried the burden of his parent’s death. The broken boy who chose to go it alone, leaving behind all those who loved him. All those who’d give anything to be there for him.

And then I grieved for Jen, who lost everything there was to lose that week. Her parents were dead, and her brother was missing. She had nothing left in this world but a best friend who failed her. I missed the signs that he was getting ready to flee. I was the last line of defense, the one who should have stopped him but didn’t.

Who I refused to grieve for was me. Carrying the guilt and allowing it to swallow me whole was my penance for not recognizing the signs. I didn’t tell anyone what happened between us that night. Mainly because I wanted to keep his secrets, but also because I was ashamed that I allowed lust to distract me from what was important.

Him.

I missed the opportunity to help when he needed me and hence, I forced myself to suffer alone. Pretending I was helping to track him down for Jen’s sake when it was me that needed to find him. Me, who needed to know he was okay so I could lighten the burden of that guilt.

In any case, I understood his reaction when we ran into each other yesterday. I recognized the shame and sadness in his eyes because I carry it just the same. Like kindred spirits, it’s branded to our souls for us to share for all eternity.

It’s why when I texted to confirm the time of our meeting today, part of me thought he wouldn’t respond. It’s also why, as relieved as I am that he did, I’m also afraid. Terrified that if he shows up, he’ll tell me he wants to be left alone. That he doesn’t want to be a part of our lives or worse, that it’s because he blames me. That he still blames what we had for the mess that became of our lives.

And then there’s Jen. Keeping this secret from her is making me sick. He’s her brother, her only living relative whom she hasn’t seen since she was 16. And here I am, her supposed best friend, hiding things about him from her yet again. I can’t imagine what would become of our friendship if she knew. Especially after what happened between Nic and me two nights ago. I know firsthand how much it hurts to be kept in the dark by someone you love and trust. It’s why somehow I must convince him she needs to know.

Pulling into a parking spot at the rest stop, I turn off the ignition. To quiet the butterflies, I place a hand over my belly, close my eyes, and take several deep breaths.

“He’s alive. Regardless of what happens today, that needs to be enough.”

I say the words out loud as a reminder. A necessity, since seeing him yesterday transformed me back into the heartbroken 16-year-old girl he left behind. The anguish I felt when he disappeared, the desperate need to find him to fill the gaping hole he left behind. Those feelings are still there, sparked back to life in a burning blaze of misery after just one glimpse of him. It’s a longing so strong that I feel it like this tangible thing crawling over my skin. The 16-year-old girl inside my head screams that “We need him,” while the adult woman that I am struggles to make sense of all these muddled feelings.

Determined to push past the confusing emotions, I step out of the car, focusing instead on how I want this meeting to go. There are years of unresolved questions that need answers, including why he never came back. Why, after 15 years, he never once reached out. There’s this bitter part of me that wants to dump raw honesty at his feet and make him feel the hurt he inflicted when he left. But the more rational side of me, the one who’s relieved to have him back, wants to shower him with love and understanding. That part wants us to move forward. To leave the past behind and bring him back into the fold of our small, makeshift family.

The only thing I know for certain is that I must go into this meeting with my heart sealed tight behind an indestructible wall. Twice now—by two different men that I loved—I’ve been discarded. I almost didn’t survive the first time he left, and I’m barely hanging on since Creed did the same. There’s only so much heartbreak a heart can take before it’s forever changed. Forever scarred. Forever unable to trust enough to love freely again, and my heart…well, it’s almost there.

Making my way through the double doors, I take a minute to orient myself. Located about 15 miles from the Ruby Creek exit of the turnpike, the rest stop offers little in the way of modern conveniences. Cream floor tiles, plain white walls with the typical ugly rest stop artwork. Vending machines line up the wall to my right, bathrooms are to my left. And just beyond the plain-looking hallway that has seen better days, it opens to a small cafe that sells the typical grab-and-go sandwich and salad options you find at a small-town rest stop.

This isn’t what I had in mind when I suggested we meet for lunch. However, given his privacy concerns, I figured this was our best option since folks from Ruby Creek have no reason to come here.

As expected, the place is crowded with travel-weary families. It’s why I came early, knowing it might take some time to find an open table. Within minutes, I find us a seat and shoot him a text to let him know where he can find me.

Emilia:

Got here early. When you arrive, come through the front hall, then turn left. You’ll see me. No rush. See you soon.

Lucas

: Be there in 5.

His response comes through almost immediately. The tension in my body ramps to an uncomfortable level at the sound of the message notification. Fidgeting in my seat, I run a hand through my wavy brown hair and take in the number of families enjoying their meal together. It’s Mother’s Day weekend, so it shouldn’t surprise me to find so many young families, and yet, it does. The sight rubs at the raw wound Creed left behind when he left us. He is the reason we aren’t living the perfect family life he vowed to provide. He reneged on his promises and left us to pursue his own dreams, giving up on the dreams that I was led to believe were jointly ours.

It’s a bitter pill to swallow, especially as the screen saver on my phone captures my attention. It’s a picture of my two beautiful girls taken just before Easter. Their sweet little smiles exude nothing but pure, innocent joy. How could he walk away from them? It’s something I’ll never understand, let alone come to terms with.

Thankfully, even through the adversity of being raised by a mom who is a mess on her best days, the happiness on their faces fills my heart with hope. Maybe things for them aren’t as bad as they feel for me. Hopefully, I can continue to protect them from the utter disappointment and failure that are their parents.

“Embree…”

At the sound of that name, my body reacts. He’s the only one who calls me that, and hearing it again after all these years awakens something deep within me. Hope? Happiness? Anticipation? Whatever it is, it’s a foreign feeling I both welcome and want to reject. My warning to protect my heart blares like an alarm over my thoughts, but then our gazes meet, shattering all restraint and obliterating my concerns.

Before I can stop myself, I rise to meet him. The connection that binds us pulls my body forward until I’m wrapped in his arms. At the feel of his presence, emotions overwhelm me and tears start to pour from my eyes.

“I thought I’d never see you again,” I say through broken sobs.

His clean scent—soap, and masculinity—mixed with the warmth of his body, wraps me in the same blissful comfort I haven’t felt since our last night together. The sensation of his fingers weaving through my hair at the nape of my neck overwhelms my senses in the best way, eliciting a relieved sob.

He’s here. Back home, where he belongs. With me and in his arms.

I should be ashamed. Feeling this way about another man while my husband is out there, somewhere. Missing. It’s wrong in every way, but being back in Lucas’s arms, when for so long I feared he was forever lost to me, I don’t have it in me to push the feelings away.

Lucas was my first love. My first kiss. My first everything and his disappearance broke something inside of me. Not only did losing him change me, the lack of closure forever bound me to him. Heart, body, and soul. And though it’s Creed, that I owe those things to, I can’t help that it’s Lucas who owns those parts of me.

It makes me sound like a terrible wife, but I promise, my husband knew where Lucas and I stood from the moment we met. I never hid what Lucas meant to me, nor how his loss nearly destroyed me. My husband came into my life at a time when I’d given up all hope of happiness. He saved me from the dark depths of desolation where Lucas left me. And it’s why I made the vow that though my heart would always belong to Luc, my loyalty would forever remain with my husband. Even now, after he too abandoned me. Even now that the other half of my soul has returned.

“Sweetheart. Please don’t cry,” he begs, his voice thick with emotion.“My stone heart can’t take it.”

His tone is laced with such desperation that I can’t help but chuckle through my tears. “Your stone heart?”

“Yes. It was stone-cold solid. Completely impenetrable as of yesterday, but seeing you cry? Any more of this and you’ll ruin my tough-guy facade.”

I look up in time to catch a genuine smile on his face. It’s the first real smile he’s given me and God! Those eyes. So blue and yet so green. And the way they crinkle at the corners steals my breath. He was barely a man the last time I saw him. Now matured, with his body filled out in all the right places. He’s so much more than I remember. Even with the long-disheveled hair and the messy beard, there’s no way to miss the perfect male specimen that’s hidden underneath.

Catching myself after staring too long, I feel the warmth of my blush creeping up my face. Remembering why we’re here, I pull away and signal that we should take a seat.

“I’m sorry for getting all weepy. It’s just hard to believe you’re here,” I tell him, as together we make our way back to the table. Before either of us can sit, his dog steps forward. Bumping his head into my hand, and demanding a hello. “Hi there, big guy. I’m happy to see you, too.” I tell him as I run my hands over his black, velvety ears.

“Sorry, he gets a little excited when we’re around people. It doesn’t happen often,” he apologizes sheepishly. “Nero, af.” He tells the dog before he lays down at our feet.

“Af?” I ask, confused.

“Dutch. It’s the language used to train him.”

Arching my brow, I ask, “You speak Dutch?”

“A few commands. I know enough to keep him safe.”

Taking the seat across from me, I’m surprised when he reaches for my hands. His expression dims as he looks to where our fingers connect.

“If I can be honest, when I got into town, the last thing I wanted was to run into anyone from my past.” Lifting his gaze, he adds, “I damn near had a panic attack after I left you yesterday. Tried to talk myself into leaving town. Canceling this meeting. Possibly drinking myself into a coma…” he shakes his head, and his smile fades. “As you’re aware, I’m the master of running from my problems. But the more I thought about it, the more I realized I needed to see you. To explain. To try to set things right.”

“Why did you leave?” It comes out in a pained breath. One it feels like I’ve been holding in for over 15 years.

“It’s complicated. Parts aren’t my story to tell, but the bottom line, I left to protect Jenny. If I’d stayed, she might have ended up in foster care right alongside me. I didn’t want that for her. It was best that I leave.” He shifts in his seat, his discomfort evident. “Though I’d appreciate it that stayed between us. She can’t find out. I don’t want her blaming herself.”

Taking advantage that he’s mentioned her, I tell him, “I can’t keep this from her, Lucas. It’s too big a secret, and she’d never forgive me if…”

“I know.” He sighs. “The last thing I want is to cause more problems. Can you let me be the one to tell her? I’ll keep your name out of it so you’re in the clear. I just think it would be best if the news came from me.”

With a sigh of relief, I nod before asking the one question that’s been plaguing me. “If you didn’t come back to see us, then why are you here?”

For a moment it looks like he’s not going to tell me, but then… “My parents put their property into a trust which I inherited upon their passing. At the time I was too young, so your dad set it up so everything got handled until my 30th birthday. That’s when their assets were transferred to me. I honestly forgot about it, until I got a call from a developer a few months back, asking if I’d sell. The settlement is scheduled for tomorrow morning. That’s why I’m here.”

“And after that’s done? Are you leaving right away?” Though I attempt to act casual, it takes everything I have to tamp down the apprehension building at the thought of him leaving.

“Well, the plan was to get through closing, drop a check off in the mail for Jenny, and then leave, but now…” He looks back at our adjoined hands and doesn’t finish his thought.

“But now?”

“Now I don’t know. Seeing you…” he grimaces, then shakes his head. “And after I talk to Jenny, leaving right away feels wrong.”

He ends the sentence with a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes, hints of sadness lingering on his scruffy, yet handsome face. Releasing my hands, he sits back. His shoulders grow tense, and then he crosses his arms over his chest in a defensive posture. Like he’s fortifying his walls, building barricades to push me away. It happens in the blink of an eye. The sudden change sends an icy pool of dread coiling up my spine.

“What the fuck am I…?” He groans under his breath, his head shaking from side to side. When he finally looks at me, his face is a mix of emotions I can’t read. Then, in a harsh tone, he warns, “I’m fucked up, Embree. There’s nothing left of the boy you used to know. I’m nothing but this angry, bitter, jaded shell of a man who’s a danger to anyone he gets close to. Trust me, I’m not someone you want around. I don’t belong here. Not anymore.”

Author's Note:

Oh, my heart!
 There's so much love, longing, and pain between these two. In a lot of ways, they are stuck in the past, both of them stunted by a tragedy that took place before they were old enough to process it in a healthy way.

The hardest part for me in writing this scene was figuring out how to best convey the type of love Emilia has for her husband. That though her heart has and will always belong to Lucas, she gave her husband the one thing that is more important to her than love. Loyalty.

It's why the men abandoning her and walking away shattered her so badly. It's why Nic's betrayal hurt her so intensely.

So what do you think about this chapter? I can't wait to read your comments!

Want to read ahead? FOLLOW ME on REAM and get the NEXT 2 CHAPTERS FREE! To access, click on the link in my profile!

For updates on this and future stories, remember to follow me.

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Chapter 7

Lucas

“I’m fucked up, Embree. There’s nothing left of the boy you used to know. I’m nothing but this angry, bitter, jaded shell of a man who’s a danger to anyone he gets close to. Trust me, I’m not someone you want around. I don’t belong here. Not anymore.”

This isn’t what I intended when I agreed to meet. The plan was to give her an hour, answer some of her questions, then leave with an open invitation to exchange an occasional text. But this? Agreeing to talk to my sister? Thinking of extending my stay?

“I’m so sorry, Lucas,” she responds, her gaze dropping to her hands which wring nervously on the table.

At first, her words come as a relief. The pressure in my gut easing the tiniest bit at the thought that she might understand. But when her posture slumps and her lower lip quivers, I wish I could take it all back…

Running into her yesterday.

Agreeing to this meeting.

Returning to this town when I knew it was a mistake.

Desperate to fix what I’ve done, I reach for her hands, only to watch as she pulls them away. Though I understand why, her reaction stings nonetheless.

“Don’t. Don’t you dare apologize. You have nothing to be sorry for,” I snap in frustration, angry at myself as much as at the unpleasant sensation gnawing away in my chest.

“You’re wrong.” She rushes on, while angrily wiping away the tears running down her face. “I do owe you an apology. For pressuring you into meeting me here, for guilting you into talking to Jen. For putting my needs above yours, just like I did back then. I should have known you weren’t okay that night. I should have seen what you were planning to do. It was up to me to stop you, but I didn’t. Don’t you see, Lucas? I have a lot to be sorry for. I failed you.”

Her words land like a punch to the gut, stealing my breath and rendering me speechless. The raw anguish that emanates from her rips into my heart, shredding me to pieces in ways I don’t know how I’ll recover from.

All this time, I’d convinced myself she’d hate me for what I did. That she would see my actions for what they were. Selfish and cruel. Because it was me who used her to ease my grief and stole her virginity in the process. It was me who slept with her and took my fill, before running away, leaving her and my problems behind like the coward that I am.

In all my consideration, not once did I imagine she’d turn the blame onto herself. To hear that’s exactly what she’s done is abhorrent to me. She doesn’t deserve any of this. The guilt. The regret. It’s a burden that belongs squarely on my shoulders. Not hers.

Fuck! What have I done?

Rubbing at the back of my neck, I can’t help but question how the hell I could have done this to her. How could I have abandoned the girl I claimed to love, leaving her to bear the brunt of my mistakes while I slunk off into the night? I fucking left her all alone. Gave her no choice but to pick up the broken pieces of my grief after I dumped them at her feet to ease my conscience. What the fuck kind of man does that make me? Could it be that all the poison and darkness, all the terrible things that make me the shittiest of humans and which I thought were a byproduct of my trauma… could it be that this is who I’ve always been?

“You think you could have stopped me?” I scoff, inadvertently spewing more anger in her direction, even though the venom is meant for me.

When she recoils at my tone, I’m taken aback by the overwhelming panic that settles like a heavy boulder in my chest. This visit has gone to shit. Everything I feared is coming to pass, and the longer we sit here—her broken and silent, me broken and angry—well, there’s just no way in hell I’m letting things end like this.

As I shift in my seat, thinking of ways to salvage this mess, it’s then that my awareness rises to the occasion. Suddenly hyper-aware, the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end while I take in the crowded space around us.

There are too many people. Not enough exits. Too many potential threats for me to mitigate alone.

My heart rate spikes at the realization, while the din of the room intensifies. Scanning the area, I watch with bated breath as the faces of happy families blur until all that’s left are menacing bodies encroaching on our space. The tightness in my chest expands. Squeezing the air from my lungs with every inhale that I fight to take.

“We need to go,” I gasp while reaching for her hand and pulling us both to a stand. When her shocked gaze meets mine, I look into those whiskey eyes, desperate to make her understand while praying she can’t see the mess going on inside of me. “I can’t be here. I-I need to go. Come, we have to go.” My tone is gruff and demanding, as I fight to keep it together so I don’t scare her.

When the shrill scream of a child makes me flinch, her eyes go wide, and she gives my hand a gentle squeeze. It helps. I don’t know how or why, but it does, though only for the briefest moment. The deafening swoosh of my heart in my ears mixed with the sounds echoing in the space overrides what little comfort her touch provides. My growing distress is obvious, thanks to the tremors now coursing down my limbs.

Mortified and unable to hide, I watch her look down at my shaky hand as it clings to hers. I’m so damn close to losing it, but I can’t fathom walking out of here without her.

“Embree. Please. I have to go, but I can’t leave things like this,” I beg, not caring how desperate I sound. “Please. Come with me.”

When she gives a slight nod, I waste no time. With a hand at the small of her back and Nero’s leash in the other, I guide them both out the doors and into the parking lot. The cool spring air goes a long way to easing the pressure in my chest, but the fear that lingers like a weighted blanket demands I get us to the safety of my Chevy Tahoe.

Once I’ve helped her into the front seat, I lead Nero to the rear passenger side. Then I climb into the driver’s seat in a rush, locking the doors before settling back on the headrest and closing my eyes. Breathing deeply and as evenly as I can, I fight to regain control over the panic. All the while I can sense her questioning stare like a brand, searing its way down my clammy skin. It’s embarrassing. Shameful, and it makes me so damn angry that this is the best version of me she’ll ever see.

And whose fault is that? You’re the idiot who left when you were still salvageable. Now you’re fucking worthless. Incompetent. Weak. Broken.

Ignoring her stare and my useless thoughts, I push the ignition button and pull the truck back onto the highway. I can’t believe this. That I’m here with her. That I’ve made such a mess of what should have been a simple interaction. I’m a jumbled mess of conflicted emotions, ranging from wanting to make things right to wishing I’d left her back at the rest stop.

God, I want to run! More than anything, I want to leave this fucking town and get as far away as I can from my past. From the memories. From these fucked up feelings that have no place in my life. Instead, I reach for her hand. The need to comfort and prove to her that everything is okay presses under my skin, overriding all common sense. I need this. For reasons I can’t fathom, I need the connection to her. Maybe because I’ve gone so long without feeling anyone’s touch. Or maybe it’s that I need her grounding presence to reassure myself that she’s here.

Regardless, I’m both surprised and relieved when she not only allows it but intertwines her fingers with mine. The feel of her soft skin, so warm and smooth under my rough, calloused hands, washes over me, helping to quiet the noise inside my head.

“I’m married…” she blurts, her nerves clear as in my periphery I see her picking at her jeans with her other hand. “Going on 7 years next month.” She looks over at me and I force myself to meet her gaze. Her eyebrows are drawn together with worry lines marring her beautiful face.

I do my best to hide my disappointment since this news is for the best. A man like me has nothing to offer a girl like her.

“I figured. Your rings,” I tell her, lifting our adjoined hands where an engagement and wedding band sit on her left ring finger. Rings I’ve been staring at since the moment we sat down together at that rest stop.

As if she’s grown self-conscious, she tries to pull away, but I tighten my hold to reassure her it’s okay. When she gives in and relaxes, I breathe yet another sigh of relief. It’s then that I realize I’m playing a dangerous game. One I have no chance of winning. All because I can’t bring myself to walk away. As if she’s trying to drive that very point home, she continues.

“We have two little girls together,” she adds with a half-hearted smile.

“I bet you’re a great mom,” I tell her through the bitter taste on my tongue.

“Do you have a family?”

“No. I enlisted in the Navy when I was 18. Since then, I haven’t had the time or opportunity to settle down.”

“Oh,” is all she says.

“Does your husband know you’re here? With me?” Never one to pass up the opportunity for a little self-punishment, I turn to look at her. It’s like I need to see how much she loves this other man. Like I need to scorch her devotion to him, along with the pain it inflicts onto my memory as a reminder that a life with her was never an option.

“No. He travels a lot. For his job, I mean.” Something in her expression shifts, but before I can read into it, she turns her attention to the passing scene outside her window.

For the next few minutes, we drive in awkward silence. All the while, I reprimand myself for putting us both in this situation. I’m so far off mission at this point, I see no scenario in which I will make it out of this town unscathed.

Pulling off at the first exit, I stop to grab food from a local fast-food place before getting us back onto the road. I don’t know if it’s nostalgia or a side effect from my traumatic brain injury, but I drive towards the last place I should take her. Ruby Creek Park. Our place. It’s where we would go every day after school. Where we spent almost every summer night catching fireflies and swimming in the lake. It’s the place we would go to hide from the vigilant eyes of our parents, and to escape the stress of childhood and adolescence.

It’s there on a rock overlooking the lake, where I first realized I was in love with her. I was fourteen at the time, still very much a kid, but even then I knew. As we sat there on that rock, the setting sun casting shadows on her beautiful face, there was no question in my mind. I was hopelessly and irrevocably in love with this girl. Which makes bringing her here today a mistake of epic proportions and yet, I can’t bring myself to stop.

Suddenly hoping for an out, I ask, “Do you have time to sit and eat? I should have asked before….” I look down at the bag of fast food she’s holding on her lap.

“I have time.” She interrupts with a timid smile, as she continues to avoid my gaze.

That I’m relieved for the extra time with her is a huge red flag. As is the way my heart keeps doing that weird squeezing thing it used to do when we were kids. That was back when just one look from her made my heart skip a beat. Back when her smile would sometimes steal my breath. God, I was such a goner back then. Yet here I am, feeling the same flutters all these years later. It’s the same rush of excitement. The same damn tingles run over my skin like I’m back to being that prepubescent boy.

Jesus fuck! I’m so damned screwed.

Author's Note:

There are red flags everywhere in this Chapter
, but I love the way Lucas is unable to stop himself. He swears he doesn't want to be a part of their lives. That he wants nothing to do with the unresolved past he left behind, yet here he is.

So tell me what you think. For Lucas, does this trip down memory lane have more to do with him finding closure? Or is it that maybe he wants to reclaim his old life more than he's willing to admit? 

I can't wait to read all your comments!

Want to read ahead? FOLLOW ME on REAM and get the NEXT 2 CHAPTERS FREE! To access, click on the link in my profile!

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NEW CHAPTERS post at 7:00 PM EST on Tuesdays & Fridays!!!

Chapter 8

Lucas

Once at our destination, I steer us onto the gravel lot. The state park I haven’t seen since the night of the bonfire and subsequent tragedy looks much the same. Except for the new walking path that winds from the parking lot down to the lake, which shimmers brilliantly in the mid-day sun. The line of trees just beyond are heavy with spring flowers and bright green foliage. A few families are milling about the picnic area, but all are far enough away that we’ll have the privacy needed for this conversation.

Grabbing the bag of food, I help her out of the car. Then I open Nero’s door, opting to leave him off the lead, since I know he’ll stay close. We don’t go far, choosing the closest picnic table to set up the food, while Nero explores our surroundings. As we sit down to eat, I can’t help but notice the awkward silence that’s followed us from the car. This kind of tension isn’t us, or at least, it didn’t use to be.

Clearing my throat, I dive right into the reason we’re here. “Why do you think me leaving was your fault?” I do my best to act casual, pretending the question isn’t a big deal when it guts me to think she’s been harboring these feelings all these years.

“I… I was the last one to see you. The only one who knew how much you were hurting, and I didn’t help you. I did nothing to stop you.”

“I meant what I said, Embree. Do you really think you could have stopped me?” This time I remain in control, my voice convincingly calm and reassuring.

“If I’d known, I would have at least tried.”

“But that’s the point. You didn’t know, so why blame yourself?”

At first, it looks like she’s going to answer, but then tears well up in her eyes.

“Fuck. I’m sorry.” Wincing, I rise, moving to take the seat next to her so I can pull her into my arms. “Please don’t cry.” I shift my gaze towards the bright blue sky, praying the universe takes pity on her and strikes me down. Even when I try to help, all I seem to do is hurt her.

“If I hadn’t been so wrapped up in that kiss, in how perfect it felt to finally be with you…” she blurts between sobs. “Then I would have noticed what you were planning to do. That you were planning to run.”

“You couldn’t have known, Emb,” I choke out, digging deep to keep my own emotions in check. “Because I didn’t want you to know. It’s something I had to do. Leaving was my only choice, and I didn’t have it in me to tell you. I knew it would hurt you and I was too much of a coward.”

When she falls silent, I hope it’s because I’ve broken through to her. But when she stiffens in my arms and pulls back, I realize nothing could be further from the truth.

“So, that’s it, just like that. After you kissed me. After you took my virginity and made love to me. You didn’t think for a second you should stop and discuss your plans with me? Or at the very least, wake me up to say goodbye? You told me you loved me, Lucas. You told me you loved me!”

Betrayal. That’s what I hear tangled up in her angry words. Her vehemence catches me by surprise, and I’m lost. Scrambling to come up with something to say, I look away. When she pulls out of my embrace and stands, my arms fall limp onto the table. Defeated, my shoulders slump and I drop my head in shame.

“I waited two years for you to be ready for us, and when you finally gave in that night, it meant everything to me, Lucas. Everything! And then we made love. First times are supposed to hurt. They’re supposed to be awful and awkward, but that’s not how it was with us. It was perfect. We were perfect!” She yells, and though I’m not looking at her, I feel every bit of her anger and hurt like a slap to the face. “How could it have meant so little to you? How was it so easy for you to walk away?” From yelling at me to broken sobs, the change in her voice damn near breaks me apart.

When I don’t move, she goes to walk away and something inside of me snaps. Brought to my feet by forces beyond my control, I reach for her, bringing her to a stop and forcing her into my arms. Too late, I realize that my loss of control includes the emotions I didn’t want her to see. With my own tears now flowing, I bury my face in her hair, inhaling her sweet scent while wishing I were a different man. One worthy of her. One capable of giving her the apology she needs to hear.

With nothing left to lose, I let the words pour straight from my soul. “That night meant everything to me. Those memories of us together are the only thing I took with me that night that mattered. They’re what kept me warm all those months spent sleeping out in the cold. You and those memories comforted me when I was scared and alone. You and the life that I imagined for us are what got me through the horrors of deployment. They’re what helped me survive weeks surrounded by torture, pain, and death. So yes sweetheart… that kiss, the gift you gave me that night, along with every other moment spent with you, meant the world to me.”

A deep, painful sob pushes through my lungs. Overwhelmed by my confession, I succumb to the memories of finding myself in that bed after the rescue. Of waking up to the realization that what I lived for, the entire reason I fought so hard not to die, wasn’t real. What we had didn’t exist. Our children didn’t exist. The white picket fence, the goddamned dog, the vows and promises I’d made to her. None of it was real. It was a figment of my imagination. Hallucinations brought about by pain, desperation, and isolation.

Needing some space, I go to step away from her but collapse hard onto my knees. While the panic that flows through my veins numbs the pain caused by my fall, it does nothing to tamp down the roaring in my ears that is stealing my awareness. When the world around me fades to black, I break out in a cold sweat. Unable to catch my breath, I rock back and forth in a last-ditch attempt to find the oxygen I need. Unable to fill my lungs, I succumb to the dark abyss of hopeless desolation. To the place where the darkness is smothering, where the air smells like blood and death, and I’m consumed by helplessness and pain.

No…no, no, no!

But then, just as quickly as it came, the dank heat and foul smells are replaced by the familiar scent of summer air and coconut breezes. Though my ears still ring with the pounding of my heart, somehow her voice overpowers the deafening sounds of my fear. The weight of her arms around me. The feel of her warm body against mine. The soft tickle of her lips against my skin. All work in conjunction to pull me back from the grips of my waking nightmare, coaxing me back toward the soothing comfort that feels like a dream.

Wrapped in the arms of the only girl I have ever loved, the demons recede. The way their loud echoes of torment grow fainter with each passing breath only confirms what I’ve always known. She is my fucking salvation .

“That’s it. Breathe with me, Lucas. Just breathe. I’m here. I’m here,” she cries. Her wracking sobs jolt through us both, while my mind clings to her words. “I’m right here”.

She’s here. My god… she’s really here!

Regaining control over my limbs, I pull her close, squeezing her tighter than I should, but not once does she complain or pull away. When my knees ache from the uncomfortable position, I maneuver us so I’m sitting on the soft ground with her legs wrapped around my waist. Attempting to hide the embarrassment I’m sure is written all over my face, I lay my forehead on her shoulder. On my right, Nero pokes his cold wet nose against my cheek, and his sorrow-filled whines leave me no choice but to reach up to soothe him.

“I’m okay. We’re okay,” I tell them both, my voice cracking with emotion as it hits me that the worst has come to pass. I lost control in front of her, of all people, and yet… it’s not only shame that fills me but also relief. Because, after all that, she’s still here.

“I’m sorry I left you,” I whisper. “I was a fucked-up kid buried under a shit ton of grief. I didn’t want to leave, but Child Services was threatening to take one of us away and it had to be me. I couldn’t put Jenny through watching that happen, or risk her being taken as well, so I left. I’m sorry I didn’t say goodbye, but most of all, I’m sorry for letting you carry the guilt that belongs to me. Believe me, it wasn’t your fault. There was nothing you could have done.”

When she pulls back, the way those whiskey eyes look down at me steals my breath. Even after all these years, even after everything that’s changed me, there’s one fact that still holds true. Like the sky is bound to the sun, so too am I hopelessly bound to the brown orbs that shine just as bright.

Suddenly, the urge to taste her lips overwhelms me. The need is so strong that I swallow back a groan and close my eyes. Anything to break the spell that’s got me yearning for that which I know I cannot have.

When I’m finally brave enough to look at her, she tells me, “I understand why you left, but I’m having trouble understanding why you never came back for us. For Jen. For me. We waited for you, Lucas.”

“Fuck, sweetheart.” I shake my head. “It’s complicated.”

“Can you try to explain? Please.” She whispers. Her plea leaving me no choice but to tell her the truth.

“I was so damn broken. I couldn’t see how I’d fit into either of your lives after what I’d done. It’s why I enlisted in the Navy. Pushed hard to become a SEAL, and then worked my ass off, believing that’s what I would do for the rest of my life. After enough time had passed, I figured you were all better off without me, especially with what I’d become. I’m messed up, Embree. It’s so bad, not even the Navy wants me.”

At my confession, she pulls me close. Her head drops to my shoulder, where she buries her face into the crook of my neck.

“So you’re not on leave?”

“No,” I sigh. “I’m sorry I lied. I didn’t know what else to do. As you can see, I’m not in a good place. I didn’t want either of you to see me like this.”

She lays there silently for a few minutes before she lifts her head and says. “We love you regardless of what’s happened. No matter who you are now, you’re ours, Lucas. And you’re wrong about us being better off. Without you, neither of us has felt complete. It’s why we fought so hard to find you. It’s why we chased you around the world with our letters. Letters that never came back, which tells me you must have received at least some of them. But you didn’t read them, did you?”

Those damn letters both stalked and tortured me all around the globe. One coming just about every month for the first six years of my military career. Her handwriting on the envelopes would bring tears to my eyes each time I received one, and yet, I never had the courage to open a single one. I kept them safe through every mission. I collected them like the precious artifacts that they were until I could get them back to my safe deposit box in New York where to this day they still sit unopened.

Sheepishly I ask her, “How do you know I didn’t read them?”

With a knowing smile, she informs me, “Because if you had, you would know how much you were missed. You would know how badly we needed you. If you’d read those letters, you would have known that your place was always with us. You would have seen that neither of us wanted to move on without you. So why, Lucas? Why didn’t you read them?”

“Because I’m a coward… and an idiot.” I bow my head, for the first time wishing I had read the damn letters. “I was scared to find out that I’d made a mistake. Or worst, that I was right, and you were all better off without me.”

Uncomfortable with my candid response, I guide her from my lap, easing her to sit next to me instead. The instant my lap is free, Nero positions the top of his body over me in a possessive move that makes Embree laugh. The sound is like a balm to my tortured soul, especially after the heaviness of our conversation. Encouraging Nero to lie next to me instead, I bring my knees up to my chest.

“I really am sorry. I never meant to hurt either of you. Maybe someday I’ll find a way to make it up to the both of you.”

“Have you not heard a word I said, Luc?” She bumps her shoulder into mine playfully. “We love you. We’re family, which means there’s nothing for you to do except be present and accept our love. Come back to us. Let us love you.”

Tears sting at the corners of my eyes, and as is my way, I resort to self-deprecating jokes. “Well, I did warn you I’m a coward and an idiot.”

Reaching for my hand, she takes it and squeezes, her mouth forming the most beautiful grin I’ve ever seen. “That’s okay, as long as you accept that you’re our idiot.”

And with that, all tension and angst disappear.

It’s like we both take a collective breath as we look beyond the grass toward the shimmering lake. Small waves glitter in the sunlight, as a family of mallard ducks glide through the surface of the water. It’s at that moment that I find my peace again. The peace that’s eluded me since Nero and I left our wild mountain sanctuary days ago. But what makes it so terrifyingly different is that this time we’re not alone. A fact that simultaneously scares me and gives me hope that maybe I’m not doomed to a miserable life of lonely solitude.

Unwilling to hang my hopes on wishful thinking, I stand, then help her to her feet. Leaning in, I drop a tender kiss on the top of her head before leading us back to finish our meal. For the next while, our conversation remains light. Kept mainly to discussing her and Jen’s trouble-making days in high school and college.

“What about your mom and dad?” It’s a question I’ve avoided, hoping it would come up naturally during our conversation.

The way she puts her unfinished sandwich back into the wrapper confirms what I was afraid of. When she looks at me this time, all I see is grief. It’s a look that I know well, having seen it many times in the faces of the widows and family members of my fallen brothers and sisters. It’s also the look that has stared back at me in the mirror for as long as I can remember.

“My dad died about ten months after you left.”

No longer hungry, I drop what remains of my food back into the bag of trash. Staring at my hands clasped on the table, I offer my condolences. “I’m sorry you lost him.”

“Did you know? That he was sick?” When I feel her searching my face, my stomach drops. Before my eyes, I watch helplessly as the remaining pieces of the puzzle fall into place. “You knew. That night when we talked, the night that you left, you knew?”

Allowing the sadness from that day to wash over me, I nod. “I did. After the funeral, I heard your parents talking to the social worker. She told them that because your dad was sick, the state might only let them keep one of us.”

Her breath hitches, the sound snapping my eyes toward her in time to watch her collapse into her hands. A strangled sob emanates from her, and my own eyes burn at the sight of her grief. Now that she knows, I hope she can forgive me.

“You left so my parents wouldn’t have to choose.” Her voice is weak while she continues to sob.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. Having just lost my mom and dad, I knew the heartache you’d have to face. That night, I just couldn’t fathom being the one to inflict that kind of pain. I’d already broken Jenny’s heart by taking away our parents. I didn’t want to do the same thing to you.”

Author's Note: 

This chapter broke my heart! 
Lucas wants so badly to be loved. His yearning for family, to belong to someone or to something is so strong, yet it's like he won't allow himself to have it. He often mentions that he doesn't deserve to be happy, but part of me wonders if it's more about his fear of loss. Of having the "universe" as he refers to it, rip it all away again, just as it did with the loss of his parents, the loss of his comrades, and the loss of his career.

What do you think? I can't wait to read all your comments!

Want to read ahead? FOLLOW ME on REAM and get the NEXT 2 CHAPTERS FREE! To access, click on the link in my profile!

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Chapter 9

Lucas

The shrill sound has me on my feet, gun drawn and at the ready before my subconscious is fully awake. Confused, I look around. The adrenaline pumping through my blood demands I neutralize the threat, but all I see is Nero standing on the bed. His head is cocked to one side like he’s wondering if I’ve lost my damn mind. Maybe I have, considering what sent me into a panic is nothing more than my cell phone alarm.

Dropping back to the bed, I reach for my phone to turn off the offending sound. De-cocking my sig, I set it on the nightstand, then rub my hands over my face. What a fucked-up way to end a semi-decent night of sleep. The first I’ve had in… well, who knows?

Standing, I walk over to my pack. Grabbing the pair of dark wash jeans that sit at the top, I slip them on, securing my belt so I can holster my weapon. Still lounging on the bed, Nero yawns wide. A lazy whine follows as he stretches and scoots closer to the edge of the bed to get near me. After a quick pat on his furry head, I walk past in search of the bathroom. My list of to-dos for the day is far longer than I originally anticipated, so it’s important I get started.

Though my conversation with Embree was cathartic in a lot of ways, it also opened a host of complications for me. For starters, now that I’m planning to reconnect with Jenny, I think it’s best that I hold off on the sale of our childhood home.

I need to have a discussion with her first. See if maybe she wants to keep it instead, which means the first thing on my list is to call the realtor and ask her to postpone today’s closing. If it turns out Jenny wants to keep the place, I’ll work with the buyer to pay out whatever penalties come as a result of breaching the purchase agreement. It’s the least I can do for her, given what I’ve put her through. Either way, I’ll leave the decision to sell up to her.

Flushing the toilet, I stand in front of the sink. First, I wash my hands before reaching for my toothbrush. As is habit, I hesitate to look at myself in the mirror, because though I know the reflection is mine, my brain doesn’t always recognize the man staring back at me.

Dissociative PTSD, with depersonalization and derealization. That’s the official diagnosis in my military file, but fuck if I trust what the Navy docs say. For months, I told them something wasn’t right. I’d begged for them to please help me understand what was happening. But it wasn’t until I admitted myself to a civilian mental health facility that they finally started listening.

According to the so-called experts, my symptoms are a natural reaction to the trauma I experienced while in captivity, but fuck! Feeling disconnected from who I am. Not recognizing my physical body as my own. Walking through my days feeling like I’m stuck in some strange dream state. Nothing about this condition feels normal or natural to me. Thankfully, my symptoms are much improved from what they were a year ago. It’s a trend I can only hope continues.

Back in the bedroom, I’m reaching for my phone to call the realtor when a knock comes through the door. Wasting no time, Nero runs to check it out, his nose sniffing the ground like he’s trying to assess the intent of whoever’s standing on the other side.

After grabbing a black t-shirt, I signal for Nero to step back so I can look through the peephole. I see the profile of a man, but the way he’s standing makes it hard to see his face. I’m not sure if it’s an Inn employee or someone else, so just in case, I reach back to confirm my weapon is within reach. Satisfied, I open the door to find the last person I expected to see.

“Holy. Shit. Lucas fucking Holt. Will wonders never cease? What the fuck are you doing back in town?”

The asshole walks right around me like he owns the place. Like I’m not standing here, purposely attempting to block his entrance.

“Ben,” I say his name in a sharp tone. Stepping aside, I eye him suspiciously. Nero stands between us, his gaze shifting from me to him, and then back again, as he emits a low warning growl. “How did you know I was here?” I ask him, my voice low and threatening.

I haven’t seen this fucker in damn near 15 years, so to have him walk into my room like this raises my hackles. Seemingly unfazed by the threat of an angry Navy SEAL and his killer attack dog, Ben smirks.

“Let’s just say I’m at the top of the town’s speed dial for reporting suspicious activity. Even with all that…” he waves his hands at my face, “scruff, our facial recognition had no trouble identifying who you were.”

“Facial recognition? The fuck?” Suddenly on high alert, my body tenses.

“Stand down, asshole. You need to relax. I’m here to get some face time with my best friend, who fell off the face of the earth years ago and just reappeared out of the blue. It’s good to see you, man.” He reaches up to pat my shoulder. Though the smile on his face is genuine, I’m having a tough time wrapping my head around how he found out I was here.

“That doesn’t tell me shit. Why the fuck are you looking into me?”

“Okay, look…” He raises his hands in the universal signal for calm down. “It’s not like that. I’m the owner of a security company here in town, and folks often reach out to ask that I look into anyone who looks suspicious. If you’ve forgotten, that’s Ruby Creek town speak for outsiders . It normally doesn’t go beyond me checking someone out to make sure they aren’t a threat, and I certainly don’t go around knocking on their doors to say hello. The only reason I’m standing here is because it’s you.”

It’s a reasonable explanation, I guess. Though I’m wondering what the hell he’s expecting me to say. The surrounding silence grows louder as we stare at each other awkwardly.

“So… how the hell have you been? Last I checked, you were still in the service. Are you out now?”

Last he checked? Again, what-the-fuck?

“I’m out,” I retort.

“Cool, cool. So, are you planning to reach out to your sister? Or Emilia?”

The audacity of this asshole has me seeing red.

“That’s none of your goddamn business. Who do you think you are, and why the hell are you here?”

“I told you. I’m here because you’re back, and your presence in this town affects people I care about. People like my wife, for starters,” he says casually. Tucking his hands into his pockets, he steps further into the room and looks around.

“Your wife?” My mind goes back to the awkward conversation I had with Embree about her husband, and suddenly I’m looking at my former best friend with a whole new sense of scorn.

“Yep.”

Yep? Yep!

This guy must have a death wish. Something Nero must sense, for he lunges forward with a loud snarl. It’s his power move. His version of “ You better watch yourself, asshole!“

“Nero, los,” I tell him without so much as a look in his direction. My eyes remain glued to the man, pushing all my buttons. “And who, pray tell, is your wife?”

I square my shoulders, my fist clenching at my side as I prepare for his answer. Ben Chelsey was always an arrogant prick to the outside world, but to those he trusted, he was fiercely loyal and a devoted friend. That he’s approaching me this way aligns with his loyalty to the girls. He doesn’t trust me, and this show is his way of reminding me where I stand.

“Your sister,” he turns to face me. His face is hard, and I can tell he’s waiting for my reaction.

“Jenny? You married my sister, Jenny?” If the thought of him and Embree damn near sent me over the edge, the reality that he’s with my sister damn near knocks me on my ass.

“The one and only. Which is why your presence here matters to me. A whole fucking lot, given that to this day, she’s never gotten over the way you left her. So, it’s my turn now dickhead, why the fuck are you back and are you planning to see her?”

Christ! Now I get why he’s here. He’s protecting her… from me! Which hurts like hell, but is no less than I deserve and what I would do if I were in his shoes. As much as I want to punch him in the face, I guess I owe him my gratitude since he’s the one who stepped up to take care of her while I couldn’t. The way I see it, I lost my right to have any say in her life the day I chose to leave her.

Walking over to my pack on the floor, I pull out the manila envelope and hand it to him. Something tells me this conversation will go better if I provide hard facts and proof of my intent, and these documents should do the trick.

Taking it, he sits on the edge of the bed and reads through the paperwork.

“You’re selling your parent’s house?”

“I was, but I’m putting the sale on hold until I talk to Jenny.”

Looking up at me, he asks, “So, you are here to reconnect with her?”

I could lie. Use this chance to make it look like I was always planning to do the right thing, but I won’t. Given what I’ve done, honesty feels like the best way to get back into his good graces. Plus, by how he’s looking at me, I’d venture to say that, like me, he’s been trained to read through bullshit.

“Originally, no, but I ran into Emilia yesterday and she convinced me it was time. After giving it some thought, I agree. I’m here to make things right and it starts with the house. If she wants it, I want her to have it.”

The look of surprise on his face catches me off guard. Especially when he hands the documents back to me with a big smile on his face. It’s then that his eyes land on Nero, almost like he’s seeing him for the first time.

“I like your dog. He seems far better company than you. You always were a prickly fucker. Nice to see that hasn’t changed…” he trails off. Standing, he walks towards Nero who eyes him with uncertainty. “Can I pet him, or will he try to eat me?”

Squatting down beside him, I give Nero a good rubdown. My hands help to release the tension in his muscles and, as I knew it would, it sets him at ease. When his tail begins to wag, I give Ben the all-clear.

“My, you’re a handsome boy.” Ben’s praise cuts off when his hand rubs over the bare patches of skin under Nero’s neck and shoulder. Looking at me, he asks, “Some of these feel like bullet wounds. What’s his story?”

Needing something to take the edge off from the memories this topic of conversation conjures, I walk over to the minibar and pull out two small bottles of vodka. Not typically my drink of choice at seven in the morning, but hell, beggars can’t be choosy.

“Drink?” I ask with my back to him.

“No thanks. I have a strict policy of no drinking until at least 11:59 in the morning,” he chuckles. “You’re not some kind of alcoholic, are ya?”

“Nah. Just wasn’t expecting some asshole showing up to dredge up my dark past.” Breaking the seal off the small bottle, I throw it back and swallow it down in one gulp. Tossing the bottle in the trash, I reach for the second one and do the same.

“That bad.” It’s not a question, but a statement. “You two serve together?”

“Something like that,” I tell him, taking a seat in the recliner at the corner of the room. Ben is back to sitting on the edge of the bed, Nero’s head on his lap as he continues to stroke his head. “We were part of the same team and were injured on the same mission. We almost died. When we lost our place in the Navy, I adopted him. Figured it was the least I could do after all the times he saved our asses.”

“Christ, I can only imagine.”

I’m grateful he asks nothing more. He’s a smart guy, so he can probably guess how our story ended. Especially as I watch his fingers continue to examine the evidence of war that will forever remain on Nero’s skin. When he meets my gaze, he’s smiling again.

“She’s going to be thrilled when she finds out you’re back. You said you spoke to Emilia. How did she handle seeing you? And by the way, those two are still thick as thieves. Chances are she’ll be on the phone with Jen at any moment if she hasn’t already.”

“I asked her not to tell her. It’s something I need to do for myself.” At this, he nods in agreement. “Embree took it well enough, I guess. There were lots of tears, smiles, and anger.” Now I’m the one smiling, which is weird for me. “I deserved her ire, though, and her sadness. The jury’s still out on whether I deserve the smiles.”

I stare off into the distance, thinking back to our goodbye yesterday when I dropped her back at the rest stop. She was the first to move, wrapping her arms around me like she was afraid to let me go. Then, when she kissed my cheek, her lips lingered on my skin for a few breaths, and Christ! I damn near embarrassed myself. I wanted to kiss her so fucking bad it took every bit of my self-control to hold back.

“She’s an amazing girl.”

“She always was,” I affirm, looking at my old friend. For the first time since he arrived, it doesn’t feel like we’re strangers.

“So Jen, are you planning on seeing her today? Because if you are, here’s where you can find her. I suggest you show up at the time listed on the card. Nora, her assistant, knows you’re coming and will be there to cover the store. Take the opportunity to whisk her away to someplace where you can get on your knees and grovel. Make the apology a good one, Holt.”

He stands, patting Nero’s head one last time, before he hands me a business card and then heads towards the door. As he goes to walk out, he turns to me with a stern look, “This is the only chance I’m giving you to make things right with her, Holt. Don’t you dare disappoint her or, I promise, you won’t like the consequences.”

With that unfriendly threat hanging in the air, Ben Chelsey sees himself out. Leaving nothing behind but my jacked-up nerves, as everything I didn’t want to happen, is now all but guaranteed.

“Guess I can’t back out now,” I sigh.

Fucking Ben.

Author's Note: 

Ben Chelsey is the man! 
In case you didn't read the prequel to this series, Ben is Lucas's best friend. He didn't have the best home life growing up, so he's a no-nonsense kind of guy, who's full of sarcastic, passive-aggressive remarks that make it hard to tell if he's being serious or not. He is also fiercely protective of those he loves, to the point he's willing to cross lines others won't.

But the thing with Ben is, he's often the voice of reason, and he possesses the uncanny ability of manipulating Lucas into making decisions that if left to his own devices, he would never have the courage to make for himself.

So what do you think of Ben? I can't wait to read all your comments!

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Chapter 10

Lucas

I remember little of what happened in the days after the fire. Once I knew my parents had died, nothing else mattered but the painful truth that my sister and I were alone now. Orphans. Displaced not just from our home but from the family unit that was solely ours. The mom and dad that were gifted to us on the day of our births were gone. We belonged nowhere and to no one, and all we had left at the end of it all was each other.

It’s why the little I remember of those days revolved around staying strong for Jenny. In the seven days that led up to the funeral, I threw all my efforts into making sure she was okay. Supporting her the best way I could, while reassuring her things would be okay. I tried with all my might to be her rock in the hopeless abyss of devastation that was drowning us both.

I tried.

I really fucking tried until the night of the funeral when I couldn’t do it anymore. The steady ground had given way under my feet, and like a piece of fragile glass, I shattered into a million pieces. By the end of that first week, I was but a husk of my former self. Only held together by the intense rage and self-loathing that was a byproduct of my guilt. Guilt that had dug its claws deeper and deeper with every day that had passed until all the good that was left in me was gone. I had nothing left to give. To Jenny. To Embree. To myself. That self-awareness made my decision to walk away and leave them behind all the easier.

To this day, my sister doesn’t know the part I played in our parent’s death. She doesn’t know that it was me they were trying to save when they went back into the burning inferno that used to be our home. She doesn’t know that I never told them I was leaving, that all I did was leave a note on a refrigerator door that, amid smoke and chaos, they probably never saw. Instead of waking my parents to tell them I was leaving, I was in a rush to get to the bonfire to claim the girl who was never meant to be mine. Embree.

That decision took away everything I loved and ruined my sister’s life by depriving her of the love, stability, and future she deserved. It’s what makes facing her today that much harder. After all this time, I just can’t see how she could ever forgive me for our parent’s death, let alone the way I abandoned her shortly thereafter.

That’s the reason I’m sitting in my truck, outside the bakery where she works, damn near hyperventilating. I’m so lost in the throes of panic that I click on Embree’s name, giving little consideration to the precedent a call like this may set. A second later, the phone rings through my truck’s speakers before finally, her voice comes through the line.

“Lucas?” her worry is evident. Likely because this is the first time I’ve called her since we exchanged numbers.

“I can’t do this. I know I promised, and I swear I want to follow through. But I can’t. I’m freaking the fuck out here,” I blurt out between gasping breaths. The way my voice cracks at the end only adds to my shame. Fuck, I should have texted. Why didn’t I just text her?

“Where are you? Do you need me to come to you?”

“Yes! No! I mean, FUCK! No! I’m a grown fucking man, not a damn child,” I snap in frustration at my lack of control. “I-I’m sorry. I’m not mad at you, I just…I should be able to handle this, Emb. She’s my damn sister, not an enemy combatant.”

“Oh, Luc…” The compassion in her voice is meant to soothe but irritates me to no end. She shouldn’t have to handle me this way. “What is it? What are you so afraid of?”

Resigned and desperate to ease the pressure in my chest, I close my eyes and let the fear spill from my lips. “That she hates me, that she’ll be pissed when she sees me. That she’ll tell me to fuck off and leave her alone and never come back. That she’ll never forgive me for getting our parents killed, for leaving her. Christ! There are so many fucked up scenarios running through my head. I feel like I’m going to be sick.” I groan, letting my head drop to the steering wheel with a loud thud.

“No Lucas. Jen loves you. There is nothing in this world that would change that. That said, there may be strong feelings she’ll need to express, just like I did, but trust me on this. If it’s a choice between having you back or continuing to live without you, she’ll choose you. Regardless of how angry she might be. It may take a little time, but I promise, this is the first step to making things right.”

Running a hand over my face, I scoff. “Sure, everything’s going to be great. Right up to the part, I tell her I’m the reason our parents are dead. I’m sure she’ll get over that bit of news real quick.”

“Lucas, I told you before, you aren’t to blame for what happened. It was an electrical fire. There was nothing you could have done and had you been there, you might have died, too.” When her voice cracks, she pauses. In the background, I hear what sounds like a car door closing. “You know what? Maybe you should tell her your version of what happened that night. Maybe letting her in on the guilt weighing you down might help you both. At the very least, you’ll see for yourself that she doesn’t blame you. Just do with her as you did with me. Be honest. Tell her what you went through after they passed and tell her what you’ve been through since you left.”

“How? It’s not like I can tell her the real reason I left. So how do I explain abandoning her without so much as a goodbye and then taking 15 years to come back? There’s no explaining it. No good way for me to justify it or make it right.”

After a heavy sigh, she remains silent. As I’m getting ready to tell her never mind , and that I’m sorry I bothered her , she finally answers.

“Tell her the same thing you told me. That you were a messed up kid, overwhelmed by guilt and grief, and that you left because at the time it felt like the only thing you could do. Be as honest as you can with her, and I’m sure she’ll understand.”

“What If I screw everything up? What if I say all the wrong things and she tells me she wants nothing to do with me?”

“Then you call me, and I’ll talk some sense into her. You can do this, Lucas. I know it in my heart, the two of you will get through this. Now I’m sorry but I have to go. I’m on my way to pick up the girls from school, but I meant what I said. If you need me, call and I will come.”

The promise in her voice is like a balm to my soul and chokes me up. It’s been so long since I’ve had someone step up to take my six. So long since I didn’t feel the full weight of walking through life alone.

“God, Embree. How is this my life?” For a second, saying it out loud taps into my trauma and makes me question if this could be another delusion. Any other time, it’s something that would send me spiraling into mass hysteria, but the sound of her breathing on the other end of the line is like a link. Anchoring me to this moment, and nothing in my life to this point has ever felt more real.

“Never in a million years did I imagine I’d be here. Back in this town. Talking to you. Minutes away from seeing Jenny again…” The emotion closes in around my throat. My thoughts left hanging in the air with the same uncertainty that’s overwhelming me.

“You got this, Lucas. This is a good thing. Trust me, we need you back in our lives, just as badly as I think you need us. Have a little faith and everything will work itself out.”

I’m a jaded fuck when it comes to things like faith, but when she says it, God, do I want to believe in it. The need for something good in my life is so overdue that even the small time I’ve spent with Embree feels like nirvana. Getting to see my sister today may feel that way too, but if not, I can at least move on to the next phase of my life knowing I tried to reconnect.

Hanging up with Emilia, I step out of the car and head toward the location listed on the card. From the outside, the face of the bakery is beautiful. Sweet-like in its appearance. There’s a light pink awning spanning the length of the shop, with pink and white flower garland lining the large front window display. Two small white wooden tables sit under the awning, with light pink chairs to match.

The T&J Sweets logo in a cursive font is lit up on the window. The minute I see it, my eyes well up. Thomas & Jessa. My parents. The shop must be named after them. The realization strikes deep at the incessant ache left behind by their loss. Caught up in my emotions, I don’t notice the woman who steps out onto the sidewalk.

“Hi. You must be Lucas.” She holds out her hand, and it takes a second to process that she’s talking to me. “I’m Nora. Ben told me to expect you. He thought you might need a little help making it inside,” she introduces herself with a kind smile and shakes my hand.

“Right,” I answer in a clipped tone, angry at the feeling of being handled by my sister’s controlling husband yet again.

“Follow me. I’ll take you to her.” Her smile never falters, and I get the sense Ben may have warned her of my surly attitude. Opening the door, she gestures for me to follow.

Nora is pretty. Looks to be about my sister’s age and she’s dressed in a refined style that I wouldn’t expect in a bakery store employee. When I enter the space and take it all in, it’s then I realize that T&J Sweets is nothing like any bakery I’ve visited before.

The interior is elegant. A combination of light pink walls, white wooden shelves, pink and white flowers, with a gorgeous assortment of the most colorful artistic pastries I’ve ever seen. Locked away behind glass cases are cupcakes, cookies, and other pastries I can’t identify, but look almost too pretty to eat.

“What is this place?” I say, mostly to myself, but Nora responds.

“This is all your sister’s. She opened it up several years ago. We cater to everything from weddings to corporate events, birthday parties, you name it. We also provide sweets to several restaurants, bed and breakfasts, and the Old Mill Inn, for them to sell to their customers. She’s made this place quite renowned around these parts.”

As I look around and take everything in, a part of me is relieved. Knowing Jenny’s made a good life for herself regardless of all she lost helps take some of the weight off. And though the way Ben has treated me to this point leaves much to be desired, I must admit I’m glad she has someone like him in her corner. If he’s had her back, as she built up this business, I owe him my deepest gratitude.

Walking through a doorway at the back of the shop, we turn left down a short hallway and then stop. When Nora turns to face me, there’s a hint of apprehension in her eyes.

“She doesn’t know you’re here. She thinks she’s meeting with a bride to go over a potential order. Ben asked that you please not tell her he went to see you this morning. As far as she’s concerned, you’re here of your own accord. He also asked me to leave you with these parting words.” With a chuckle, she pats me on the chest like we’re old friends, then says, “Don’t fuck this up.” 

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Author's Note:

What Lucas is going through is so outside his comfort zone, that he doesn't know what to do
! I love that his first inclination was to reach out to Embree for support. I love how honest they both are with one another, and most of all I'm really proud of the way Lucas is pushing through his fear. This is growth, people. And definitely a step in the right direction.

Oh, and did you see Ben's continued influence over Lucas? Love, love, love how he's always giving him the "not-so-gentle shove" he needs. 😜

So tell me what you think of this chapter. Are you as surprised as I am that Lucas is pushing on with his plans to reconnect with the life he left behind? I can't wait to read all your comments!

NEW CHAPTERS post at 7:00 PM EST on Tuesdays & Fridays!!!

# Chapter 11

Chapter 11

Lucas

"There fucker. Now you look semi-human again," Parker snorts as he brushes away the trimmed hairs from the back of my neck.

"Yeah? Well, I'm still a prettier fucker than you."

"Please! Only reason you look this good is cause you're here, letting me work my magic. Now shut it and hold still so I can tame this thing." He tugs on my beard, taking his tools and preparing to work his so-called "magic" on my face.

I can't remember the last time I had a fresh cut, let alone a shave. It was probably a few weeks before that last mission. After the rescue and ensuing hospital stays, grooming was less than an afterthought since I had more than enough problems on my plate. I was broken, both physically and mentally, not to mention I barely had a grip on reality. As I progressed through recovery and rehab, not recognizing the man in the mirror meant the state of my appearance mattered even less. Until this morning, when for the first time I looked at that man and was curious to see what lay underneath the unkempt hair. As I stood there, a part of me wondered if by transforming my face to look as it once had, maybe then I'd look and feel more connected to the old me.

Thinking on it now, the decision to change my appearance might have something to do with my re-entrance into my old life. As if re-examining that original trauma has me wanting to dig deeper to reclaim whatever's left of the man I once was. Both the part I'd given up when I abandoned my life after the fire, as well as the part of me I gave up on before leaving the VA Hospital when I came to accept that my friends and teammates were dead and that the woman I loved and the family I thought we had never existed. The doctors said it was the trauma I suffered at the hands of my torturers that caused my disassociation, but a part of me wonders if what broke me was the reality I was the only one to survive, and that after all of that, I had no family to go home to.

"I thought the Navy had strict grooming standards," he adds with a smirk. His hand expertly maneuvers the beard trimmer from the front of my ears down towards my neck. "How the hell did you let it get like this?"

"I've had other things on my mind," I answer, purposely evading the question. Based on the look he gives, I can tell he wants to know more, but he lets it go. "How about you? How did you end up cutting hair with your old man?"

"Now that's a crazy story. Senior year, I was offered a football scholarship to Florida State. Played wide receiver there for three years before I got a girl pregnant. To make a long story short, she didn't want the baby, and I did. So, by the time my daughter was born, I had transferred to the barber school up in Lakeview, and my little Sky and I moved in with my parents. My girl is 10 years old now and leaving football to raise her is the best decision I ever made."

My jaw hangs open in disbelief as I try to picture the crazy man-whore I went to school with, leaving the football jock lifestyle he loved so much to raise a kid.

"Don't look so shocked. I had my fun and honestly, all it took was a grainy black and white ultrasound image of my Skylar, and I knew she was everything I could want."

"Sounds like you're a great dad, Parker. And her mom?"

"She pushed her out, then refused to see her. Signed herself out of the hospital three hours later against doctor's orders, and disappeared, never to be seen or heard from again." He shrugs like it's no big deal. The smile on his face never falters. "Anyway, it's for the best. I'm all Sky has ever known, and she's doing alright. We take care of each other, and she has my mom and sister, so she's not completely without female role models."

"Christ, Parker. That must have been hard."

"For a while, but it's all good. She's an amazing athlete. Plays soccer down at the community center a few times a week. You should stop by my place sometime, maybe come along to one of her games. It's a fun time." Before I can give him the awkward spiel that I'm only in town for a few more days, we're interrupted.

"Holy shit, it really is Lucas Holt under that mess!" Ben exclaims in a loud, exaggerated tone. "Damn your good, Parker. You need to add 
sasquatch groome
r to your repertoire of services."

"Right? I'm a fucking artist."

"Guess not much has changed. The two of you still think you're funny." I quip, pretending to be annoyed when, honestly, I've missed the back-and-forth banter that happens between guys you trust. The last group of men I had this with didn't make it home.

"And 
you
 still have no sense of humor," Ben retorts.

"Will you look at us, boys? Back together again. We need to call Keller and get him down here. 
The Funtastic Four
 are back!"

Ben and I both groan at the nickname.

"Damn it, Parker, it wasn't cool in high school, and it definitely isn't cool now," Ben says, as he smacks him upside his head.

"Where is Keller anyway? He still living in town?" I ask as Parker brushes the stray hairs from my neck and face.

"Yep, Will's still around. He followed in his daddy's footsteps and is now one of Ruby Creek's finest," he answers from behind me as he unbuttons the barber's cape. "You're done. Here," he hands me a small mirror and spins me so I can use the wall mirror to inspect my hair and trimmed beard.

The man who stares back at me still feels like a stranger, but I can't deny this is the closest I've felt like myself in over 16 months.

Before I can thank him, Parker looks over at Ben and asks, "What are you doing here? You're not due back for another week or two."

"I'm here for Holt." I look up at him in surprise. With his gaze directed at me, he says. "Jen told me your visit yesterday went well. I wanted to see if you're free for a drink. There's something I'd like to discuss."

Suspicious of his motives, I only nod. After the shrewd way he manipulated the situation yesterday, I don't entirely trust him. He was always a controlling bastard, but the way he forced my hand with Jenny is something I refuse to let him get away with again.

After paying Parker, I exchange numbers with him while he and Ben firm up plans for a get-together this Sunday. It's not until we're walking out that I realize those plans involve me as well, which means pushing my departure date one more day to Monday. That I'm not upset that plans have once again been pushed upon me is telling and something I'll need to explore later.

"Where's Nero?"

"At the Inn." We stop at the curb, look both ways and then cross the street toward Souder's Bar & Grille. "Can't believe this place is still here," I mumble under my breath, as memories from our time spent here flood my senses.

This was my parent's favorite restaurant, and where they took us to celebrate almost every occasion. From birthdays to anniversaries, good grades, and won games. Every time I entered those doors was with them... until now. Like a punch to the gut, that thought deflates the nostalgia that brought me to life seconds ago. Ben must notice, for he stops at my side with a look of understanding in his eyes.

"First time since...?" he asks, concern written on his face.

With a grunt, I confirm what he already knows. Not wanting to dwell on the ache inside my chest, I move past him through the doors.

As the familiar ambiance surrounds me, my lungs cinch with grief and, for a second, the possibility of an impending panic attack looms over me. But when my eyes move to the man standing at the bar, it's like I'm back to the carefree 17-year-old I was before my world burnt to ash. With his eyes fixed on me, a lopsided smile pulls across his face. Then, like a whirlwind set free, he takes several huge strides until he pulls me into the tight embrace I never knew I needed.

"Lucas! Is this really you?" He squeezes me tighter. The familiarity of his embrace sends a tsunami of emotions clawing up my throat.

"It's me." I croak, doing my best to keep from falling apart.     

Henry was my father's best friend. A man I haven't seen since the awful day we buried my parents. It was the same day I decided to leave Ruby Creek for good, so seeing him now takes me back not just to that day but to the life I had before everything changed.

Pulling back, he grabs both sides of my face and looks at me in awe. "You're a sight for sore eyes, kid," he playfully slaps one side of my face before letting go. "Come. Let's get you both taken care of. You here to eat or drink?"

"Drink, Mr. Souder. The bar will do." Ben responds.

Following Henry toward the bar, Ben directs us to the farthest end, which I'm grateful for since the vantage point offers a clear view of both exits. It goes a long way to easing my anxiety.

For the next few minutes, we order our drinks, making small talk with Henry until another bar patron calls for him. When he leaves us, Ben and I sink into an uncomfortable silence. I can tell he has something on his mind and whatever it is, I have a feeling I'm not going to like it.

"Jen told me the meeting between the two of you went well and that you're coming to Sunday dinner."

"Yep..." I put the cool glass to my lips and take a long pull of my whiskey. I can sense I'll be needing a lot more alcohol to get through this exchange.

"She said you explained why you left and that she understood. That she told you about the baby and asked you to keep your parent's house."

"Is there a point to this, Ben?" I snap. I'm fresh out of patience after the way he handled me yesterday and the way he's trying to handle me now.

"There is." He clears his throat, before swallowing down his glass of whiskey in one go. When he slams the empty cup on the bar, he exhales loudly. His face scrunches up for a second from the burn of the alcohol. With his eyes staring off into the distance, he continues. "She wants you to stay."

"I know. I told her I can't, but that when I leave it won't be like the last time. She and Embree have my number now. I intend to keep in touch and come back to visit from time to time, including after the baby is born."

The shake of Ben's head tells me he's not pleased with my answer, which only pisses me off more.

"Get to the fucking point and say what you gotta say. Sitting there shaking your head and hinting at shit ain't the way, man. I came here out of respect for my sister, but if you can't handle this conversation like a man, then I'm out."

When I go to stand, he lays a hand on my forearm and leans in. "Just answer me this. When you leave here, tell me you have something to go back to. A job. An apartment. A girlfriend, or hell, I'll even accept a pet goldfish. Just give me something. Anything to show you're leaving to go back to some sort of life and not because you're running away from the people who love you and need you to be here."

Who the fuck does he think he is? How dare he make assumptions when he has no idea the hell my life has become? Does he think leaving here is fucking easy? Does he honestly believe being away from this place all these years didn't come at a price? I suffered. I'm still fucking suffering as a direct result of leaving the only place that's ever felt like home.

Sick of how this discussion is making me feel, and needing to put distance between us before I do something I'll regret, I stand. Reaching into my back pocket for my wallet, I toss a few bills on top of the bar. As I go to walk past him, he grabs the crook of my elbow.

When I spin around and get in his face, he says, "I'd like to offer you a job. Not working for me but alongside me. I'd bring you on as a partner. I'm offering you the opportunity to start a life here because the woman I love more than life itself needs you. You're a proud man, and I respect that. You were my best friend before you left, and as I stand here and breathe, I consider you my friend now. This isn't a handout man, it's a help-up. We're family, which makes whatever is good for you, good for us all."

Letting me go, he takes a step back and then reaches for his wallet. As he tosses a few bills next to mine, he adds, "I don't need an answer now. It's an open-ended offer. Just reach out when you're ready and whatever you want, it's yours."

With that, Ben takes his leave. Leaving me floundering in his wake, slack-jawed and at a loss for words.

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Author’s Note:

Surprise, surprise. Ben strikes again! While Lucas is the hero of this story, Ben will become the heart of this entire series. He is the one who keeps his friends together and whole. The person who protects and defends those he loves with the passion of a warrior. Though his tactics sometimes frustrate Lucas, deep down he knows his friend is “mostly” always right.

Want to know more about Lucas’s childhood friends Will Keller & Parker Lewis? Check out the prequel THAT FIRST BREAK. (Available FREE. See my profile.)

So what do you think of this chapter? I can’t wait to read all your comments!

NEW CHAPTERS post at 7:00 PM EST on Tuesdays & Fridays!!!

For updates on this and future stories, remember to follow me.

Chapter 12

Emilia

Pulling up to the house where I grew up is always bittersweet. Memories of my father and the amazing man he was still linger here. George Carmine Barrett was as radiant as a living soul could be. Everywhere he went, he brightened up the world around him. Every moment spent with him was like experiencing life in high definition. He was so full of color that his personality came through, even in the way he painted the walls of this old house. Every room had its color, each named by its hue rather than its function. Raised by the luminous man that was my father, and surrounded by all that splendor, the world that I knew was a beautiful place.

That all changed after my 16th birthday. It started with the sudden death of Lucas’s parents, and things got progressively worse when Lucas disappeared. Not long after, the tragic news of my dad’s terminal diagnosis confirmed my life would never be the same. Stage IV pancreatic cancer was a death sentence. Six months is what the doctors gave him when it was first discovered. That was two months before Lucas’s parents died and he went missing.

Knowing the toll that much loss would have on Jen and me, Daddy fought like hell to stay around for as long as he could. He battled bravely through the hopelessness of terminal illness, so he could put some distance between the tragedies for us. His last ten months on this earth were used to prepare Jen and me for life without him. He lived double the time the doctors predicted, because of how resistant he was to giving up the fight before we were ready.

In short, when Lucas left, my beautiful world stopped spinning. But Daddy’s death, that was when that beautiful, amazing, colorful world I’d grown to count on, officially faded to gray.

As for Mom, she was always distant when it came to me, and that distance increased tenfold after my father’s passing. For the first few months, Jen and I barely saw her. Most of the conversations between us happened over text messages or voicemails.

About six months after Daddy died, we came home from school to find Harold sitting in our living room. That was the night Mom told us that Harold was moving in and that they planned to get married the following summer. It felt like the ultimate betrayal, both to the memory of my father and to me. I was still deep in the throes of grief, and my mother’s indifference was devastating.

“Okay girls, you can unbuckle yourselves. I’ll be right there to let you out.”

Stepping out of my car, I look around the driveway to get a sense of who’s arrived, but it’s the black Chevy SUV parked at the curb that captures my attention. Memories of sitting in that car next to him six days ago come flooding back. Remembering the easy way he reached for my hand when we first got in, to the goosebumps that raced over my skin at the feel of his touch.

I’d be lying to myself if I didn’t acknowledge that the connection we once shared is still there, alive and beating. Pulsating with longing to reclaim everything that was lost, everything that was unfairly stolen from us. Nothing could have prepared me for how it would feel to see him again. To finally hold him in my arms. To breathe him in and soak in the warmth of his presence.

It was incredibly intense, and there were moments when it felt like I was hanging precariously over a ledge of impending betrayal. And while nothing technically happened between us, I can’t help but wonder how far I would have let things go if Lucas was a different type of man.

I’m ashamed to admit that within minutes of getting into his car, I gave in to the feelings he invokes in me. Tired of the constant strain that is the situation with Creed, I opted to pretend that part of my life didn’t exist. Not my girls per se, but the vows I made. The rings on my finger. The unsigned divorce papers at the bottom of that drawer, and most important of all, the fact my husband left me and then disappeared.

I know it was selfish, but a part of me knew I could count on Lucas’s strong moral code to keep us from crossing lines that shouldn’t be crossed. It’s who he is and for once, I gave myself permission to just be. To not think. To not be weighed down by responsibility, loyalty, and duty.

It was short-lived, however, for nothing can change the fact that I am married and bound to another man. And even if that man isn’t bound to me in the same way, I’m the one who refused to sign the divorce papers that would have set us both free. On that principle alone, I have no right to go behind my husband’s back and betray my marriage vows.

Opening the back driver’s side door of my CRV, I reach for Mally’s hand and help her out. “Good job, baby girl,” I tell her, before looking over at her sister, who’s still in the car. “Lyssie, can you grab your bag for me?”

“What did you bring for us?” Lyssie asks as she hands me the pink and purple backpack. Then, with an exaggerated jump, she hops out of the car. Her enormous sigh of relief when she sticks the landing makes me smile.

“Well, since Auntie Jen and Auntie Nell love to color, I brought your crayons and coloring books. Oh, and your iPads which you can have after you eat all your dinner. The veggies too.”

“Yay, yay, yay. I’m going to eat everything. All my veggies, even if they taste like poo!” Lyssie skips ahead of us, bouncing excitedly while Mally, who’s holding my hand, beams in wonder at her big sister’s antics.

“Lyssie Baby, no potty talk,” I correct. “Now remember, we’re here to meet Uncle Lucas. He’s not used to bouncy little girls, so let’s keep the ants in our pants under control. Oh, and remember, inside voices, please.”

“I’ll be super, super quiet.” With her pointer finger against her lips, she whispers loudly, “See, like this, Mally.” She coaches her baby sister, who, by the way, hasn’t said a single word since leaving our house. “We can’t be loud.” She loud whispers again, and no matter how hard I fight it, I can’t help but chuckle at my over-the-top daughter.

“Great job. Now. Are we ready?” I look toward Mally and wait for her to give the okay.

When she nods, I open the unlocked door. Immediately, we’re greeted by the sounds of laughter and the smell of home-cooked goodness. When we enter, Alyssa runs ahead towards the living room. Alone with Mally in the foyer of my childhood home, I take a second to look around.

When Daddy was alive, this was the sunshine room. With its bright yellow walls, cherry wood entry table, and the big colorful flower arrangements he replaced every week, this was the most welcoming room in our house. Unfortunately, a few days after Mom broke the news of her engagement, the colored walls and the happiness that existed in this house disappeared. Now, with its plain white walls and barely there decor, the place no longer feels like home. There’s no life here. No contrast of any kind. No joy to be found in a place that was once larger than life.

“There she is. Come here, my sweet Mallory” With her sing-song voice, Mom prances into the room. Reaching for Mallory, she lifts her into her arms, in the process forcing her little hand from mine.

“Mom, be careful. She’s too big for you to be picking up.”

“Nonsense, right Mallory? Grammy can pick you up whenever she wants, can’t she, baby?” She tickles Mally under her chin, eliciting a small smile from my sweet, shy girl. When mom turns to head into the living room, Mally panics. Her little eyes go wide with fear, and she thrusts her hands in my direction as she emits a scared whimper.

“Mom, wait.” I step ahead, blocking her way as I reach out to take my daughter from her. “Here, let’s let her walk. Remember, it takes her a minute to get comfortable. She’ll lead the way when she’s ready. Right Mally baby?” I give her a soft smile, gently squeezing her little hand for added reassurance.

With a heavy sigh, Mom releases my daughter. Her pinched lips and heavy scowl communicate her displeasure. Preparing for the inevitable critique of my parenting skills, I brace. Surprisingly, she only shakes her head and stomps out of the room back to her guests. Relieved to have averted the confrontation, I squat down to Mally’s eye level.

“How are we doing, sweet girl?” I tuck a loose strand of her brown hair behind her ears. “You ready to go in and say hi? Remember, you know everyone here. The only new person is your Uncle Lucas, and he’s super nice. Plus, I’ll be with you the entire time. Sound good?”

Big brown eyes, identical to my dad’s, stare back at me. I watch in awe as she works through her anxiety. When she gives me a shy grin and a nod, I stand up and take her hand. When Mallory and I cross the threshold into the living room, all conversation stops.

Warm heat radiates over me, the source of the sensation coming from the corner of the room where Lucas stands next to my stepfather. The first thing I notice is that he’s changed his hair. The sides are cut into a tight fade, while on top, his sandy blonde hair is curled into messy waves. His beard, now trimmed closer to his face, is still full in the sexiest kind of way. But those eyes, the windows that are the gateway to his soul, remain the same. No matter what the rest of him looks like, they are the most attractive part of him.

When our gazes meet, it’s like everything around us disappears. My heart stops. The tether that binds us freezes my body in place. Like an out-of-body experience, I feel an intense pull. Like there’s a part of him calling out to a part of me. It lasts only a moment. The spell broken when Harold opens his mouth to chastise me.

“What is wrong with you, girl? Why are you staring at him like that?” My stepfather’s condescending tone is like a bucket of iced water. My cheeks heat, the embarrassment coursing through me as I try to recover. “It’s bad enough you kept us all waiting with your lateness. Stop making everything so damn awkward.” Looking over at my mom, he says, “She’s here. Now can we eat?”

“Harold honey, don’t be rude in front of our guests.” Mom comes to stand beside me. “It’ll be another minute.”

Without bothering to look at me, she takes Mallory’s hand from mine and then calls to Alyssa. When she reaches her other hand towards her, my outgoing girl runs forward to take it. Even standing behind her, I can see Lyssie’s little body vibrating in anticipation of whatever exciting thing is about to happen.

“Uncle Lucas, let me introduce you to my beautiful granddaughters. Alyssa May and Mallory Raine. Girls, this is Aunt Jen’s big brother, Uncle Lucas.” Mom steps forward, pulling the girls closer to him.

With a gentle smile, he squats down in front of them. My hand comes up to my mouth as my eyes well with emotion at the sight of him making himself smaller. At 6’ 4“ he towers over them. For Mallory, who’s not only tiny but terrified of strangers, the move helps put her at ease. It’s then that I remember how good he was at reading people and anticipating their needs. It’s the quality that made it easy to fall in love with him.

He saw me.

All of me.

Deep down to the parts others always missed.

When he shakes Lyssie’s little hand, and then Mally allows him to do the same, it proves his special attention has done the trick.

“It’s nice to meet you. I’ve heard so many great things about you both.” When his eyes meet mine, the look of reverence on his face sends tingles up and down my spine. “And your Aunt Jen was right. You’re both as beautiful as your mom.”

“Okay girls, what do you say we go take our seats and get ready to eat?” Mom asks them.

“Wait, Grammie, I want to meet his doggy too!” Lyssie jumps up and down, stopping only when she sees the look of disappointment on Lucas’s face.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. He’s not used to many people, so I left him at the Inn.” When Alyssa’s face falls, he looks over at me. I can tell he’s unsure of how to handle the situation.

“That’s okay. Maybe we can meet up at Ruby Creek Park another time?” I ask him hopefully.

His mouth twists up into a relieved grin before he turns his attention back to the girls. “He would love that. I’ve been meaning to take him out to explore the trails. Would you girls mind coming with us? Maybe you can show us around the next time we’re in town?”

“Yes, yes, yes!” Lyssie exclaims while jumping up and down, her brown pigtails bouncing around her face. “I’m good at knowing where to go. Momma, Mally, and I go there all the time.”

Lucas chuckles at her outburst before telling her. “Perfect. I’ll talk to your momma, and we’ll make it a date. How does that sound?”

My mouth drops when I notice that Mally is the first to nod her head in agreement. Though her back is to me from her posture, I can tell she’s completely relaxed in his presence. It’s something that hardly happens, especially with a man she’s never met before.

“Woman! Let’s go, I’m hungry!” Harold bellows from the other room, and it takes everything in me not to roll my eyes.

“Okay girls,” Mom leans down towards them as she speaks. “Pop-pop is hungry, so we better get in there. We wouldn’t want him getting any crankier, would we?”

In a flurry of excitement, the girls go with my mother. My eyes follow until they’re out of sight. When I look back at Luc, I’m surprised to find him staring at me with such adoration that it brings a flush to my cheeks. Being caught in his gaze is surreal. Like a dream, it feels like I’m floating on air. When he steps closer and I catch a hint of his woodsy scent, I suddenly can’t breathe.

“Your girls are beautiful,” he says in a quiet voice, his eyes leaving me long enough to scan the room behind me. We must be alone, for he reaches out and takes my hand just as his eyes return to me. The feel of his fingers on the surface of my skin sends a wave of goosebumps breaking out over my flesh.

“Thank you,” I respond with a shy smile before looking away. The intensity of his stare makes it hard to hold his gaze.

Nervous, my free hand reaches up for the locket hanging over my chest. It was a gift from Dad and touching it now makes it feel like he’s here, watching the fulfillment of the promise he made, that someday he’d bring Lucas back to us.

“I can’t believe this is happening,” I whisper under my breath.

“What can’t you believe?”

Surprised he heard me, I try to decide how to best respond. Opting to go with the truth, I tell him, “You, coming back to us and giving us a chance to be your family again. Thank you, Lucas.” I take a chance and stare deep into those sea-green eyes. When I start to tear up, I attempt to look away, but before I can, gentle fingers press up under my chin.

“It’s you, Embree. It wouldn’t have happened without you.”

Locked onto one another, something inside me shifts. The need to be connected to him is so powerful it takes everything in me not to reach up and kiss him. I want to touch him. To breathe him in and become one with him. And the worst part is that I can feel his desire like it’s a living, breathing thing crawling over my skin. His need for me is just as strong, and I feel us both reaching the very edge of our control. It terrifies me and yet I’ve never wanted anything more. Just as I’m about to give in, fate steps in to save me from making the biggest mistake of my life.

“Eeek!!! I can’t believe it! My two favorite people in the entire world are in the same room.” Jen squeals from the entrance of the living room.

Lucas releases me and takes a step back. Though I’m relieved for the interruption, my heart tugs painfully at the distance he’s put between us. When Jen pulls us in for a double hug, it’s then I realize what she and Ben walked in on. The brief moment of intimacy between me and her brother… a man who isn’t my husband.

I’m mortified.

Not only because of the thoughts that were running through my mind. Not only because of the way my body called out for another man, but because I’m better than this.

I’m married to the father of my children. A man who is missing, and whose absence I’m convinced is due to some type of foul play. He deserves my utmost loyalty and respect. That I’m feeling these things towards another makes me the worst type of human there is. I owe him more than this, and most of all, I owe it to my girls to respect and consider their father first and foremost. When Jen releases us, I wrap my arms around myself, as if the move somehow hides my deep shame.

“I never thought I’d see the day when the three of us would be together again.” She beams at her brother, his arms still around her shoulders.

“Now wait a minute cupcake, what about me?” Ben, Jen’s husband, steps into the circle, extending his hand out to Lucas and bringing him in for what I can only describe as a bro hug. “Hey, asshole. Nice of you to finally come home. Next time, don’t take so fucking long,” he jokes with Lucas.

“Nice to see you’re still a passive-aggressive ass. Which reminds me, I’m ready to give you the beat down I owe you for marrying my baby sister. What the fuck happened to bro code?”

“Ha!” Ben turns towards his wife and whispers loud enough so only we can hear, “Wait until he hears I knocked you up too!”

“Shhh, Ben!” With a playful smack to his chest, Jen chastises her husband. “He already knows, you jerk. Stop it before Aunt Muriel and Harold hear you.” At her comment, I don’t miss the way Ben winks at Lucas over his wife’s head. Something tells me this isn’t the first time these two have seen each other since Luc’s return.

“So, you and my sister? Seriously, what the fuck, man?” Lucas’s smile never fades, but there’s a hint of tension hidden underneath. “When? How? I need to know, so I can delve out the proper amount of punishment. Especially since you swore there was nothing between you two.”

“What? No dude, I swear, back then we were just friends.” Ben reaches for his wife, bringing her back against his chest and wrapping his arms around her. It looks like a tender move by a man who loves his wife, except for the gleam in Ben’s eyes. He’s putting on a show for Lucas, pretending to hide behind Jen because he’s afraid.

“Look, for a long time, we were only friends. And then…” he turns to look at Jen with pure adoration. “One day she shows up, begging for my help and offering cupcakes as payment for my services. How could I say no to an offer like that? It wasn’t long before I was head over heels in love with her.”

“Yeah, right. As I recall, you fell in love with my cupcakes first.” Jen croons, patting his face adoringly.

“No way. You’re the only cupcake for me.” He kisses her temple, and my friend melts into a puddle. Turning his attention to Lucas, Ben continues to plead his case. “I love her, man. She’s my everything and I promise to always do right by her and our kids. I swear it on our bro code.” He smiles, then reaches a hand out to Lucas.

“I’ll hold you to that,” Lucas shakes his hand. “I guess if it had to be anyone from the crew, I’m glad it was you. You were here when I wasn’t. I’m grateful for that. Thank you for taking care of her. Of them both.” Lucas smiles at his old friend before looking at Jen and then at me.

“No need to thank me.” He smiles. “Anyway, give any thought to my offer?” Ben asks. Again, there is a hint of mischief on his face.

From smiling to scowling, Lucas shifts his weight from one foot to the other. Curious, I look at Ben.

“What offer?” I ask, my brow furrowed as I try to understand.

“Big brother didn’t tell you?” Jen grins wide. “He’s thinking of sticking around for a while, and since he’s between jobs, Ben offered him one.”

“I see you still have a big mouth…” Lucas directs his angry tone at his sister, to which Jen responds by poking her tongue out at him. The move is so familiar that Ben and I can’t help but laugh at the exchange. That is, until Luc’s angry rebuttal cuts through the humor. “I told you I’m not staying. There’s a lot I need to work through. I can’t make a decision like this on a whim.”

“Like what, Lucas? What is it you have to work through? You don’t have a job, a family, or a significant other. You’re not in the army anymore. There’s nothing keeping you from coming home,” though her tone is soft, I can sense her frustration. She desperately wants him to stay.

“Navy, not army. I was a Navy SEAL. Very different.” Lucas blows out a breath, and I can see he’s struggling to keep his emotions in check.

Memories of his panic attack at the park and his frantic phone call to me earlier in the week come back to me. It’s clear Jen doesn’t know the extent of what he’s gone through, or she wouldn’t be pushing him this way. I can’t help but wonder what else he hasn’t told her.

“Whatever. Army, Navy, it’s all the same to me, big brother,” I’m relieved by the change in her tone. Attempting to inject some humor back into the conversation shows, she noticed how uncomfortable he is. But then, in typical Jen versus Lucas fashion, she takes it a bit too far. “Now, if you were in something cool like the Air Force or Coast Guard…” she wiggles her eyebrows with a playful smirk. “Now that would be something to brag about.”

The weight of the original conversation must have been too much for Lucas, for he doesn’t seem to notice she’s joking. Instead, his frown lines deepen, and as he goes to respond, Ben steps in to save his wife.

“Dude! She’s provoking you. Man, can she still work you up!” Ben’s head falls back, and he howls in laughter. “Oooweeh! God, it takes me back. Brings a tear to my eye,” he chuckles, pretending to wipe a fake tear from his eye as he brings his wife in for a one-armed hug.

“I’m glad you all think this is funny,” Luc mumbles under his breath. Though he’s trying to hide that he’s hurt, I still see it. And judging by the smiles all around us, it looks like I’m the only one who does.

And I hate it.

Everything in me wants to wrap him up and protect him. I want to be the one to stand at his side, helping him re-acclimate back into his old life. However, given my position, the best I can do is reach for his hand in a show of support.

“That’s enough teasing for one day. If we want him to stick around, we have to respect that he knows what’s best for him.” I give Lucas a warm smile, hoping he sees that I’m on his side. When I turn back to my friends, they’re both eyeing Lucas and me curiously. Mustering a bright smile, I tell them, “Jen, be nice to your brother, and Ben, control your wife.”

They both laugh and though Lucas and I don’t look at each other, I feel when his hand gives mine a gentle squeeze.

He gets it. Whatever he needs, I’ll always be here for him.

As his friend.

Because before we were anything more, that’s what we were. It’s how I know that with a little time, we can find our way back to friendship again.

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Author's Note:

From happy to brooding poor Lucas is all over the place in this scene. 
I love how happy he seems as he's introduced to Embree's girls, and I couldn't get enough of the banter between him, Jen, and Ben. But when pushed by Jen to return to Ruby Creek, he goes back to the angry, broody guy he was at the beginning of the book. My favorite part is how attuned Emilia is to how he feels, to the point she steps in to save him in the end. 

So what do you think of this chapter? What was your favorite part? I can't wait to read all your comments!

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# Chapter 13

Emilia

"Let's go people, time to eat!" Harold's voice bellows into the room.

Rolling her eyes, Jen links our arms together and leads our little group toward the dining room where everyone is gathering. Along the way, we stop to greet Aunt Rosie and my cousin Annelly, who must have been in the kitchen helping with the food.

As usual, Mom has gone all out. The large rectangular table is set with enough tableware for the 5-course meal she typically serves. The two large flower centerpieces are surrounded by tapered candles, which have already been lit. The dishes, the flowers, the decor, all of it is stark white, which goes with the superficial elegance my mother seems to like.

As I look around at each of the place cards, I'm surprised to find Mom has Lucas sitting next to me in what would normally be Creed's seat. On the other side of Lucas, Harold sits at the head of the table across from my mother. Lucas, me, and the girls take up one side, while Ben, Jen, Annelly, and Aunt Rosie take up the other.

Though this is the home and family I grew up with, I feel like an outsider. This is probably because I haven't attended one of these dinners in over three years.

 Mom started hosting these after Jen and I moved back from college. By then, Creed and I were together, so having him come with me ensured Harold would be on his best behavior. That all changed after Mallory was born when Creed's new job required he be away for weeks at a time.

I initially tried to carry on the family tradition, but Harold's constant mocking made it impossible for me to continue. The first few dinners I missed were a huge point of contention between Mom and me, but eventually, she came to accept what the rest of us already knew. Her Sunday dinners would be far more enjoyable if I wasn't there.

"My, it's been a long time since we had a full table. When Creed gets back, we might have to buy a new dining room set, honey." Mom tells Harold with a laugh, while I fidget at the mention of my husband.

"Yeah, well, that's if he comes back," Harold responds casually, as he piles spoonfuls of food onto his plate. "I reckon by now he's found himself a mistress and is out there enjoying a life of leisure." Harold chuckles out loud like the idea of my husband abandoning and being unfaithful to me is something to joke about.

Appalled, I can't help it when my gaze snaps to his. As if pleased with himself, he shoots me a condescending grin.

"Aww... don't you worry your pretty little head, stepdaughter of mine. If he dares show up here, he'll have to deal with me. It's part of my job, you know? What I signed up for when I married your ma. To take you on as my burden, come hell or high water," he leans forward, laying a meaty hand on Lucas's forearm. "And a handful she has been, I tell you. That girl's got more issues than anyone I know," he chuckles.

Pretending I'm not affected by his remark, I turn to check on the girls who, to my relief, are busy coloring on their placemats. Thankfully, they're unaware of the awful things being said about their mom and dad. Taking the opportunity to disengage from the conversation, I reach for their plates and begin to serve them.

As my self-appointed savior, Jen steps in to redirect the spotlight away from me. "Actually, I would look into getting a bigger table anyway because..." she pauses. "We're pregnant!"

The room explodes with elation as everyone stands to offer hugs and congratulatory support to the parents-to-be. Everyone here is aware of their long struggle with infertility, and as such are thrilled by the news.

Still shaken by Harold's comments, it takes a great deal of effort to fake my way through the celebration. It's not until I feel Lucas's hand squeezing mine under the table that I realize he's noticed I'm not okay. As much as I appreciate the gesture, it's a reminder I need to do a better job at masking the effect Harold has on me.

For most of dinner, the conversation remains on Jen's baby news. There are lots of smiles and pleasant exchanges, but after the way this all started, I don't have it in me to partake. Instead, I sit quietly, a fake smile planted on my face as I pick at my food. My eyes follow the conversation with great interest, even as I'm stuck in my head wishing I were anywhere but here.

"Well?"

The room has grown quiet, and I realize Harold is talking to me. In that split second, my stomach twists.

"I-I'm sorry?" I ask nervously.

"I said, have you heard from your deadbeat husband?" He over annunciates the question, like I'm hard of hearing. When the blood drains from my face, a smirk pulls up at the corner of his mouth.

This is it.

Like the snake that he is, he's poised to strike, and like the fool that I am, I showed up today so sure I could handle him. 

Knowing where this conversation is headed, I glance over at the girls who, like everyone else, have caught on to the tension building in the room.

"I got them, Emi." My cousin Annelly, who's sitting across from me, stands. With a sad, understanding smile, she adds, "I'm done, anyway."

Relieved and grateful for the backup, I watch as she takes both the girls by their little hands and guides them toward the family room. Lyssie reverts to blissful unawareness, gabbing away at Annelly about the iPad I promised they could play with after dinner. But Mally, she hesitates to leave me. Her sad eyes tell me she understands far more than she should for a little girl her age. Something that not only hurts, but that I know I'll have to help her work through later. For now, I push my feelings aside to give her a nod and a reassuring smile. It must be enough, for she follows Annelly out.

Attempting to delay the inevitable, I take a sip of my wine before giving him an answer. "Not for a little while now. Like I've said, we can't talk while he's on a case."

"Hmm. Yes, so you've said. But here's the thing. It's obvious he's stringing you along. How long are you planning to let this go on? I mean, no one's seen him in like what..." he looks across the table at my mother, who helpfully holds up three fingers. "Three years? Holy shit, girl! I'd say it's about time you wake the hell up. He's probably run off. Left you and those kids. It's a damn shame, but you know what's worse..." he pauses, his eyes slanting as his glare deepens, "watching you act so damn oblivious."

Humiliated, a lone tear spills down my face. Dropping my head to blink the emotion away, I do my best to maintain my composure. It's too late to hide the fact he's gotten to me, but I'll be damned if I give him the satisfaction of seeing me fall apart.

Thinking back to what Nic said about demanding his respect, I wish more than anything I could do just that. Unfortunately, I can't get past the part of me that agrees with his assessment. I should have stood up to Creed before he left. I should have demanded he abide by his vows, that he put his family first, even above his job.

But I didn't.

In the three years he's been gone, I've done nothing to fix my situation. Not even taking the out he gave me with those damn divorce papers. For three years, I've done nothing but sit around, waiting for his return. Allowing life to happen to me, as I sat there feeling sorry for myself and wondering why me. Maybe Harold has it right. Why me?

Because I don't act.

Because I don't fight.

Because I don't have the will to persevere, which makes everything Harold is saying true.

"Well? What are you going to do about it?" I hear him ask. When I don't answer, he turns to Lucas and tells him, "See? This is what I'm talking about. Instead of taking the bull by the horns, she sits there like a little mouse, crying about it. Boo hoo hoo..."

"Maybe if you'd stop treating her like your damn punching bag..." Jen interjects, her voice laced with fury.

"Oh stop it, Jen. Stop defending her when you know I'm right. The girl needs to know she looks like a damn fool. Everyone sees it. Everyone knows what's going on," Harold sneers.

"Harold, honey, let's leave this conversation for another day. You're upsetting the mama-to-be, which isn't good for the baby." Mom chides her husband, while simultaneously cutting me down by coming to Jen's defense and not mine.

"No Muriel. This needs to be said. Acting like her friend and tiptoeing around her issues isn't helping her. The girl is due some tough love."

At his comments, my breath catches in my throat and my lower lip quivers as I fight harder than I ever have to hold back a sob. 
Acting like my friend?
 Neither of them has ever acted like my friend, let alone given me anything remotely resembling love.

"Jesus Christ, pull yourself together." I hear him slam down his drink, the force making the dishes around the table clink. "You're setting a terrible example for those girls. And Mallory, look at what you're doing to that poor little girl..."

"That's it." Luc's hand comes around mine, and the next thing I know, I'm standing behind him, shielded from Harold's beady gaze. "We're done here. Aunt Muriel, dinner was delicious. The company, debatable. Now, Harold, you don't know me, and I sure as hell don't know you, which gets you a pass this one time. But the next time I catch you talking to her like that, let alone looking at her with that smarmy smirk of yours, I swear to fucking Christ, it will be the last thing you do. And trust me on this asshole, you won't see me coming. As for the rest of you, shame on you."

And with that, he leads me out of the room. Suffocating under a thick cloud of shame, I follow his lead without question.

"Annelly, I'm taking Embree outside for a minute. You okay to watch the girls a little longer?" I hear him ask my cousin, who must agree for the next thing I know, we're outside.

At the front porch steps, Lucas leads me to take a seat. When he crouches down in front of me, he pulls my gaze to his.

"Hey," he says in a soft voice, as those sea-green eyes scan over my face. "You okay?"

Embarrassed he now knows how screwed up I am, I look away. Determined to hold on to what little dignity I have left, I force a smile as I wipe the tears from my face.

"Yeah. I..." then nothing. No other words come because I'm choked up by wave after wave of unrelenting sorrow. My eyes blur, so I close them before dropping my head into my hands in time to catch the sobs that break free. Desperate to put distance between me and this place, I tell him, "I can't go back in there. Please! I can't go back in there."

"Shh." He pulls me close, allowing me to bury my face in his chest as heaving sobs overtake me. "That's alright. You don't have to. What do you say I go in, grab the girls, then take you home? You can wait out here if you like." Fighting to get my crying under control, I just nod. "Here, why don't you sit in my truck while I get the girls ready?"

When he pulls back, I avert my gaze and give him a nod. But then I remember, "No. The car seats..."

He must understand what I'm trying to say, for he agrees. "Okay. We'll take your car, but I'd still prefer you wait in my truck while I run inside. I'll have Ben or Jen drop my truck off at your place when they leave. Will that work?"

I nod. With a finger, he gently tugs on my chin and forces me to look at him.

"I need you to hear this. What happened in there is bullshit. Whatever is going on in your life, there's no doubt in my mind that you're doing the best you can. You are so damned strong, Embree. I could see it plain as day, just from the few hours you spent with me last week. If that man in there can't see the loving, compassionate, amazing woman you are, then that's on him. Regardless of what that asshole says, or how your husband is making you feel, you are fucking incredible. That's the god-honest truth. Now, I just need you to believe it, too."

"I don't... I don't know how, Luc." I whisper. "It's all so darn hard. Everything's so darn hard." I sob.

Gently squeezing my hand, he looks at me. "You can do this. I believe in you and until you're ready to believe it too, I'll be here to keep reminding you. Whatever is going on, I know you'll get through it."

"Promise me." I hate myself for doing this to him, but I'm desperate and pathetic enough to use his pity to coerce him into staying. "Promise me you'll be here. That you won't leave me behind again."

A dark shadow passes over him before his expression falls. Blowing out a shaky breath, he meets my gaze. I can tell he's trying to hide his emotions, but I don't miss the pain and trepidation simmering underneath.

"I have to leave. Tomorrow." His voice is rough, his expression conveys the apology he's not ready to voice. "But I promise I'll be back to visit as soon as I can. In the meantime, we can talk whenever you need. You can call or text. Just because I'm not here doesn't mean you're not here." He lifts my hand and places my palm over his heart. "I promise you. I'll never leave you behind again. No matter where I am in the world, if you need me, say the word and I will come."

"But you won't stay," I whisper.

"That's right. I can't stay."

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Author’s Note:

This was an eye-opening exchange for Lucas! Up until now, he was under the assumption that the family he left behind all those years ago, was now a cohesive unit. But this exchange with her stepfather, along with the way no one came to Embree’s defense, pushed him to the edge.

Do you think knowing all that Embree is going through will encourage Lucas to change his mind and stay? What do you think about Embree’s relationship with her family? I can’t wait to read all your comments!

NEW CHAPTERS post at 7:00 PM EST on Tuesdays & Fridays!!!

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Chapter 14

Lucas

Walking back toward the house, I’m livid. As much as I want to go in there and tear into these people, I can’t forget that there are two little girls on the other side of that door who don’t deserve to be put in the middle of this. What happened tonight clarifies how much the dynamics of this family changed after George’s death. While I remember that Embree’s mom was somewhat aloof when it came to her daughter, I never could have imagined what I saw tonight.

Back in the foyer, I run into Ben and Jen, who look to be getting ready to leave. In the background, I hear the echoes of an argument between who I assume is Embree’s mother and stepfather.

“How is she?” My sister asks. Though I know her concern is genuine, it does nothing to tamp down the outrage that’s prickling at the base of my skull. Everyone who sat at that table played a part in what happened. Even the paltry attempts Jenny made to protect Embree were nowhere near enough.

“How do you think she is? She’s upset. I’m here for the girls. I’m taking them home.” When my sister flinches at my clipped tone, I instantly regret taking my frustrations out on her. The reality is I know nothing of what’s led these people to this point, so at the very least, I owe Jenny the benefit of the doubt. Softening my tone, I tell her, “I’m sorry. She’ll be okay. I’ll drop them off and make sure she’s back to herself before I leave.”

“Should I go to her?”

“Nah…” I pull her in for a hug, my left hand rubbing circles on her back in the same soothing way I used to when we were kids. “I’ve got her. Maybe just give her a call later tonight.”

“Have I told you how happy I am that you’re back?” She sighs into my chest as she snuggles in close. Her wistful tone hits me like a knife straight to the heart. I know how badly she wants me to stay, and as I hold her, I feel the tension of that want sitting between us like a deep emotional fissure I’m not sure how to breach.

“I love you, baby sister. No matter where I am, that will never change.” The tear-filled frown when she pulls back to look up at me deepens my guilt. I’ve always wondered if leaving her behind was the right choice, and knowing that tomorrow I’ll be leaving her again is killing me. This is yet another reason I didn’t want to come back. As much as this reunion with her and Embree has meant to me, it’s only making the heartache of separation that much more painful.

“You’re still leaving, aren’t you?”

“Tomorrow.” Unable to take the disappointment reflected in her eyes, I pull her back into my arms. “But it won’t be like before. You have my number. I’ll come back to visit when I can. You have my word.”

I don’t know how long we stand there holding on to one another. It’s like we’re clinging to the moment out of fear that once we let go, this right here, will forever disappear. It’s an unease that was sewn into the fabric of our being the moment our parents were taken from us.

When we pull apart, she wipes the tears from under her eyes and then gives me a sad smile.

“Okay. I’ll, uh, go help Annelly get the girls ready. I’ll be right back.” She says as she steps away.

When she moves to go past Ben, he reaches for her and drops a tender kiss on the top of her head. The look in his eyes as he watches her leave the room is filled with such adoration that it eases what lingering doubts I had about their relationship. He genuinely loves her, which I’m grateful for since it’s what she deserves. Still, it’s not enough to excuse how he sat there and watched Embree get crushed by her stepfather.

“What the hell was that, Ben?” I hiss in barely contained anger. “I just stood in that room,” I point towards the living room. “And thanked you for taking care of them in my absence, and yet you sat there and did nothing while that asshole tore her apart.”

He bows his head and blows out a breath. With his hands in his pockets, he at least has the good sense to look ashamed.

“I know how bad it looks, but I swear, I’ve stood up for her plenty. Many times. But the girls have repeatedly asked me to stay out of it. To not say a word when he gets started because it only makes things worse.”

“Worse?” I seethe. Conscious that those little girls are in the other room, I do my best to keep my voice down. “How could that possibly have gone worse?”

“I admit it. It was bad in a way it hasn’t been in quite some time. Not to make excuses, but Emilia hasn’t come to one of these since before Creed left. We’d forgotten what it’s like. I think it caught us by surprise.”

“You’re fucking right that’s no excuse. Uncle George would be in a murderous rage if he’d witnessed that. Why would Aunt Muriel let him speak to her like that?”

With a deep sigh, Ben shakes his head. “We don’t understand it, either. Something in her changed when George got sick. I don’t know all the details, but not six months after he died, Harold was already in the picture. Since then, she’s let him run roughshod over Emilia. We’ve tried to intervene and have done our best to support her, but this thing with Creed, he’s like a dog with a bone.”

“What’s the deal there? All she’s said is he’s a Fed, and that he’s away working a case.”

“He’s FBI, and that’s about all she’s told us too. The problem is no one’s seen or heard from the guy since he left three years ago. She acts like she’s spoken to him, but honestly, I’m not so sure. Creed and I are friends. Whenever he was out of town, he’d find ways to connect with me. To get updates on how they were or to ask, I check in on them. Since he’s been gone, I haven’t heard from him. The last time I talked to him was the night before his flight out, and like always, he told me he’d be in touch.”

“But why would she lie? If she hasn’t spoken to him, I’d imagine she’d be worried sick. I would think that’s something she would share, at least with Jenny.”

“I’m not so sure. Emilia’s a lot like her mom in that she’s very private. Wants everyone to think everything is fine. If something’s wrong, say Harold’s right and he’s left her, I don’t know that she would tell us.” Like he’s regretting what he’s said, he blanches and then reaches up to rub the back of his neck. “Anyway, it’s not my place to put her business out there. If something’s happened, all we can do is wait until she’s ready to tell us.”

Exhausted by the turmoil swirling around Embree, my shoulders slump. I can’t imagine the stress she’s under. After three years of operating as a single mom with little support or understanding from her family, I really hope her husband has found a way to be there for her.

“Listen, I know you’re planning on leaving tomorrow. Can you spare a few minutes to stop by the office? Would love to show you around. Introduce you to the team. I know you have things to sort out, but seeing what we do firsthand might help. At the very least, it’ll give you an idea if it’s something you’d be interested in.”

My gut reaction is to decline, but it’s the mention of a team that sparks my sudden interest. After spending over a decade being part of a team , being without one is like losing a limb. The loss of something so inherently necessary, a piece of you that’s so ingrained with who you are, it’s like trying to take a deep breath with only one lung. Or like trying to feel your way without your sense of touch.

“Sure, why not? Text me the address and I’ll stop by on my way out.” Lifting my chin toward the argument in the next room, “Should I go in and say something to that asshole before I go?”

“Nooo! Take it from me, stay out of it, and get out while you can.”

I know he’s right. I’ve said my peace and made it clear he better watch how he treats her. Still, I hate that she’s in this position to begin with. And the thought that she’s alone and may have no one to turn to…

“About her husband. Have you looked into his situation at all? I know it’s not my business, but I’d feel a hell of a lot better if we could at least confirm his status.”

“I’ve tried. Quietly, at your sister’s behest. I’ve done everything short of hacking into the FBI. All we’ve dug up is that he was part of a covert, multi-agency operation somewhere in South America, but his trail goes cold after he left the States. I’d love to dig deeper, but I can’t risk pissing off the federal government.”

“Christ!” I shake my head. “Could be he’s gotten himself into trouble. Not all covert ops are sanctioned. Get caught while in the middle of one of those, and Uncle Sam will deny any knowledge of your existence. If things went south and he got wrapped up, we may never know the truth of it. If no one’s heard from him in three years, he’s either dead, in hiding, or he’s locked away in some godforsaken hellhole.”

“It’s crossed my mind. Any idea how the FBI would handle something like that? Would they tell her if something happened to him?”

“I’m guessing it depends on the circumstances. Has she said or done anything to show she’s been contacted by the Feds?” I ask.

“Nope. Not that I’m aware of. It’s always the same story. Creed’s on a case, which is why he hasn’t come home. When pressed on whether she’s talked to him, she passes it off as if she has.”

“I have contacts in D.C. who owe me favors from my SEAL Team days. I can ask around if you think it will help. See what we can dig up. Just need to make sure whatever we do doesn’t make things worse for her.”

“Can’t see how knowing for sure could make things any worse.” He says thoughtfully before a smirk pulls across his face. “Matter of fact, agree to join the team, and we’ll make that your first assignment.”

Sneaky bastard.

It takes some effort to look unaffected by his offer.

Feigning indifference, I shrug my shoulders and tell him, “Maybe. We’ll see.” The truth of the matter is, I’m beyond intrigued. The idea of having something to work through, a problem that needs to be solved, is far more tempting than I’m ready to admit. “About tonight…” I start to tell him when he interrupts.

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll let Parker and Will know you’ll catch up with them next time you’re in town. Because there will be a next time, right? I mean, no pressure or anything, but there better be a fucking next time since you just promised my pregnant wife.”

As I’ve said, the bastard’s a controlling, passive-aggressive asshole.

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Author's Note:

I LOVE Lucas's Alpha Protector side!
 He learned so much during this scene.

From the breakdown of Emilia's family after her father died, to the mysterious situation going on with her husband. And then to have Ben offer him a tour of the office, along with the opportunity of working with a team again, possibly to find answers that would help his Embree... 

Lucas may not know it yet, but Ben's got him exactly where he wants him. 😂

So what what was your favorite part from this chapter? I can't wait to read all your comments!

NEW CHAPTERS post at 7:00 PM EST on Tuesdays & Fridays!!!

For updates on this and future stories, remember to follow me.

# Chapter 15

Lucas

By the time I get Embree and the girls home, I'm even more on edge. Between the incident at dinner, the sad look in Jenny's eyes when I confirmed I'm leaving, and the conversation with Ben about Embree's situation, I'm growing more conflicted by the second. As if my departure isn't hard enough, the weight of what I'm leaving behind is catching up to me.

There's so much that's pulling at me to stay, including the prospect of finding new purpose in the job Ben offered. But, if experience has taught me anything is that I've got to be careful here. I can't allow those seeds of hope to take root and cloud my judgment. In the end, nothing good could come of this. Only more heartache, pain, and disappointment when invariably my life comes apart again. When the universe, in all her sadistic glory, steps in to reclaim what little happiness I may find. In my current state, I can't afford to get attached, for I don't know if I can survive losing yet another thing that matters to me.

Running a hand over my face, I curse myself for even thinking of not leaving. For letting doubt seep into what I know is the best path forward for me and them. Plus, why bother to get wrapped up in complications that have nothing to do with me? It's not like I have any control over the situation with Embree. It's not like I have anything to offer her in terms of help or support. So why the hell can't I shake this feeling that she needs me?

"Because you're in love with her."
 That annoying voice inside my head nags at me as if I could ever forget. Especially now that I've seen her with my own eyes. Now that I've experienced the warm softness of her body in my arms. Now that I've stared into those eyes and felt the re-awakened connection that binds me to her at a cellular level. For the first time, I want to be the man who stays. The one who protects and takes care of her. But fuck! How can I take care of her if I can't even take care of myself?

"Hey, are you okay?" She asks in a tender voice as she takes a seat on the other end of the couch. She's turned in her seat facing me, after having spent the past hour since we arrived, bathing the girls, and wrangling them off to bed. It gave me plenty of time to think and way too much time to look at the life she's built with another man.

"All good, just thinking," I answer, trying to act casual when inside, I'm a jumbled mess of twisted emotions.

Afraid she'll see through me, I avert my gaze to the light blue walls of her living room. Images of her girls at various ages adorn the walls in intricate frames, but the signature piece of the room is the collage of wedding photos hung neatly over the stone fireplace. She looks so damn happy in those pictures. So god damn beautiful, which only hammers home that I've been in love with this girl my entire life.

Though I'm glad she got her happily ever after, looking at the pictures makes my chest constrict and my gut churn. The sight of her in that beautiful white gown as she stands next to someone who isn't me tears out my heart. Instantly I despise him, but the anger and vitriol I feel towards him is nothing compared to what I feel towards myself, since I was the one who left her.

"What are you thinking about?"

"Stuff. Life. How unbelievable it is that I'm here in Ruby Creek, sitting in your house with you." I shrug my shoulders and force a smile that I hope hides the misery bleeding out from every crevice of my dark soul. "Or maybe I'm wondering how it's possible that your living room looks so much like your parent's living room. Back then, in the house where you grew up."

"I can't believe you remember that." There's a burst of wistful laughter in her voice, but I don't miss the hint of sadness that falls over her face at the memory. "I did it purposely. Dad loved colors, which is what I miss most about him. It's why when we got this place, the first thing I did was paint the walls to match how he painted our house."

"Let me guess, we're in 
The Sky Room
?" I wave a hand around the space in jest, remembering the names assigned to the rooms of her childhood home. When her face lights up with the brightest smile I've seen from her yet, my heart does that weird squeezing thing again. She steals my breath.

"I can't believe you remember that, too."

"I remember everything about you," I tell her, and my smile fades as that feeling of melancholy returns. The only comfort I've found in the 15 years I've been gone is in those memories of her. Memories that soothed, yet never dulled the throbbing emptiness that continued to grow with every second we've been apart.

"It's surreal having you here. It's just... something I never thought would happen, or maybe I was afraid to hope. I think it was easier to assume that you were gone. That you would never come back." Her eyes cast down toward her hands and it's then I notice the slight tremor in her fingers. It takes everything I have to stay put. To not reach for her hands and pull her into my arms, but that urge is smothered when she asks, "Is there really a reason you can't stay?"

Yes!

That's the response I should give her, but the word gets stuck behind the knot of uncertainty that consumes me. Sighing, I stand and force myself to walk towards the wall that's like poison to my soul. Looking up, I inspect the images of her wedding day. The simple, yet elegant white dress that's cinched at her slim waist before falling away in a beautiful cascade of lace and tulle. Thank God I wasn't there to watch her walk down the aisle toward him. Except if I had been, I would have made damn sure it was me who she walked towards on that blessed day.

"You look beautiful. Happy." I tell her gruffly, never looking away from the image of her in that dress. When she doesn't respond, I turn to face the whiskey eyes that shimmer behind pools of unshed emotion. "I'm glad you got that. That you found happiness after everything."

Overwhelmed by our combined sadness, I look away. The unresolved tension from our past is pulling us down, and it feels like we're both drowning in an ocean of painful regrets.

"I was happy." Her voice is so low I almost miss it. What I don't miss is the way her answer implies that the happiness she's referring to is in the past.

"Are you not happy now?" No sooner are the words out of my mouth that I wish I could take them back. No matter her answer, it changes nothing. In the end, she's still married and I'm still broken.

Thankfully, she doesn't respond. Instead, she gets to her feet and comes to stand next to me. Her eyes turn up, scanning the images of what I imagine was one of the happiest days of her life. That thought alone is enough to sour my gut.

"I don't know what I am anymore." Though her voice is steady as she speaks, there's a hint of despondency in her tone. "Sometimes I think I am, but then other times..." she stops, her words falling away with the weight of everything she's left unsaid.

Clearing my throat, I swallow down the words I want to say and replace them with ones that will get us back to safer ground. "Ben said you don't attend Sunday dinners anymore. Did you go tonight because of me?"

"Yes, but also for the girls. I wanted them to meet you and figured it was the perfect occasion for them to spend time with the rest of the family."

"Emb," my movements uncertain, I reach for the crook of her arm and gently tug her around so she's facing me. "As glad as I was to see you, please don't put yourself in that situation again. Not for me."

At this, she gives me a gentle smile before she says, "It wasn't all bad. The girls had a nice time, and they got to meet you." Her smile fades as a faraway look comes over her. "And anyway, I'm partly to blame for what happened. I should have expected it."

"How could you possibly think you're responsible for that?" I ask incredulously.

Not bothering to answer, she goes back to the couch and takes a seat. Lifting her glass of water from the coffee table, she brings it to her lips. It's like she's buying time while she figures out what to say. When she sets the glass down, she lets out a breath.

"I've been lying to them. For a while now." She rests her head back against the couch, her face tipped up toward the ceiling. "The crazy part is I thought I could do this. That all I had to do was buy myself some time and eventually things would return to normal. I've been working so hard to keep up appearances, maintaining the pretense that things in my life are perfect. That I'm not a mess. That my marriage at this point isn't a sham. That I'm not the failure Harold insists I am." She shakes her head before she leans forward, her neck and shoulders slumped in defeat. "I've always hated him for that. The way he can see through to the worst parts of me."

"Fuck him, Embree." I take a seat on the coffee table in front of her, positioning myself close enough so I can look but not touch her. "I know guys like him. The bullshit he spewed tonight wasn't about you. What he said came from a place of malice, because tearing others down is what he does to make himself feel better about his miserable life. What he said isn't a reflection of who you are, but of the awful human he is."

She sighs like she doesn't believe me. A lock of her wavy brown hair falls over her face, and I stare in awe as she reaches to tuck it behind her ear. She's so damn beautiful that not being able to touch her right now hurts my fucking soul. More than anything, I want to comfort her. To help her see the amazing woman that I see. I want to be the one to exorcise her demons and the one who destroys anyone who dares hurt her. 

"He is awful, but he's also right. My life is a mess and by pretending otherwise, I've only made things worse."

"Embree, if anyone understands the power of pretending, it's me. It's a defense mechanism that allows you the illusion of having control when it feels like you have none. It shields you from having to face unspeakable hardship and sometimes, it's the only way to make it through the day. That you pretend to be okay doesn't make you a bad person. It makes you someone who's doing her best to get through a difficult time."

I don't miss the irony, as I repeat the words that have been said to me by countless therapists. Words that I still struggle to believe are true when applied to me and what I've been through.

"No. Actually, it makes me a liar." This time when she speaks, she looks straight at me. "A lie by omission is still a lie." Her eyes are a flood of angry emotions, though the tremble in her chin gives away how sad she is. Reaching for her hand, I give it a gentle squeeze.

"Your truth is yours, and yours alone, Embree. Holding onto it, no matter the reason, doesn't make you a liar. Whatever's happening in your life is no one's business but yours, just like it's up to you to decide when or with whom to share it. The people who love and care about you know this and will understand."

Her eyes shift between mine as she processes my words. Suddenly, her breath hitches and a deep look of sorrow falls over her face.

"What if I am ready to share my truth, but can't?" she asks at the same time a lone tear slides down her cheek.

"Then you start with one person. Someone you trust and go from there."

"No, I mean, what if I've been told I can't tell anyone?"

The way she says it this time gets my immediate attention. It taps into the soldier in me, the one who knows and understands the importance of keeping secrets for the sake of the mission. After my conversation with Ben tonight, it aligns with our theory and worries the fuck out of me.

"That depends on who told you to keep it a secret," I respond calmly, not wanting to give away the seriousness of the situation. As I wait for her to tell me more, I watch her closely. It's then that I catch hints of her fear. It's there, written in the way her hands wring together on her lap as her eyes scan mine like she's assessing. Like she's trying to work out how much of her truth she should give me. Afraid she's having second thoughts, I decide it's best to give her a gentle push. To know what she's up against, I need her to reveal at least this bit of truth. "Who told you to keep it a secret, Embree?"

It takes her a few tries. Her mouth opens and then closes until finally she utters the name. "Special Agent Robert Kessler." The minute it's out of her mouth, her eyes go frantic. Bouncing between mine, like she's desperately searching. No. Not searching, pleading. But for what?

"What is it, Emb? Did this special agent tell you why?" I ask, re-taking her hand in mine. Nodding her head yes, I watch helplessly as silent tears spill down her cheeks. When her face contorts in deep pain, a hard sob falls from her lips.

"It's killing me..." she cries.

The anguish in her voice rips at my chest. I want to hold her in my arms, to comfort and take away her pain, but I can't. Not now. Not when I need to pay close attention to the things she doesn't say, just as much as what she does.

"What is it, Embree? What's killing you?" I urge, encouraging her to keep talking.

"He's gone. And I don't know if he's ever coming back." As if it's all too much, her body collapses forward, and she buries her face in her hands. Determined to keep her focused, I crouch down in front of her and take both of her hands.

"Gone where, Emb? What did they tell you?"

"They said he's missing. They told me I'm not supposed to tell anyone, but that if I hear from him, I'm to call them immediately." She says through heart-wrenching sobs.

With confirmation that what we suspected is true, a whole new wave of terrifying concerns emerge. Questions like, is she safe? Could the consequences of what happened to her husband find their way back to her or her girls?

"Okay, sweetheart. What else can you tell me?" I reach up to cup her face, my thumbs wiping away the stream of tears as they fall. "Talk to me, Embree. Whatever it is, give it to me. Let me help you figure it out."

"He served me with divorce papers before he left." She blurts out and her eyes fall close, as if admitting this bit of truth out loud causes her physical pain.

Divorce papers?

The words accelerate my heart until it's pounding away in my chest. That he served her before disappearing cannot be a coincidence. For a moment I'm lost to the anger, to the fury of what he's done to the woman I love, but all it takes is one look into those heartbroken eyes for me to remember that 
she,
 is what's at stake here. Everything I do from this point forward has to be about what's best for her.

"I refused to sign them. I wanted to wait until he came back, but now, I don't know what to do."

"When was the last time you spoke to him?"

"Two months after he left. He called to confirm the papers were signed and filed." She sighs, her sobs quieting as a look of resignation falls over her. "I couldn't do it. It was the last conversation we had, and we spent it arguing over whether or not to end our marriage."

When she pulls her hands away to wipe her tears, I get the sense she needs the space. As much as it pains me to let her go, I stand and take the seat next to her. Seconds pass as we both sit in silence, processing the enormity of everything she's shared.

When several more minutes pass, I rub the back of my neck. I want to help her. I do. But I have to be careful not to give the impression that I'm staying in town.

"Tell me what you need, Embree?"

"What?" From the corner of my eye, I see her turn her head to look at me.

"I can help." While keeping my eyes on the pictures of her little girls, I clasp my hands together in front of me. "I have friends. People in the government who I trust, and who owe me favors. They're the type of people who can get the answers we need without alerting the FBI. All you need to do is ask, and I'll call in those favors."

As she considers my offer, I watch her in my periphery. Her hands wring together on her lap and the scowl on her face deepens. Like she knows that I'm watching, she gives me a silent nod.

"Say it, Embree. With words. Tell me what you need."

"Okay. Yes. Please help me. I need to know what happened to him, and if this is about the divorce, then fine, I'll give it to him. I just need to know that he's okay, so I can figure out what to do next."

"I'll make the calls first thing tomorrow, though I need one more thing from you. I'd like to bring Ben in on this..."

Her face pales, and her eyes fill with panic as she interrupts. "No! You don't understand. They told me no one can know or they'll come after me. They'll arrest me. I can't take that chance... not with the girls. No one can know, Lucas. Promise me they won't find out I've told you about this."

"Hey..." I scoot closer to her and pull her into my arms, "I promise. They won't find out. I'm taking this only to people that I trust with my life. Alright?" When she doesn't respond, I press her. "Say it, Embree. I want your words. Say you trust me to help while keeping your secret safe."

"Yes, okay, I trust you. So, what now?" She pulls away, and by her sharp tone, I can tell she's not happy with me. Still, it's a welcomed change compared to the utter devastation that consumed her moments ago.

"I'll reach out to my friends at the Department of Justice and Department of Defense. They're people I trust to keep my inquiry confidential." I look over in time to see her nod. Bracing, I decide to push her on the one thing I know she doesn't want. "I have to bring Ben and his team in on this..."

"No..." she stands and begins to pace. "No. You heard what I said. They can't know. I wasn't supposed to tell..." Once again she's frantic, her voice full of fear as she panics.

Going to her, I reach for her face, forcing her to look at me.

"Do you trust me?" I ask her, my voice sharp as I struggle to rein in my frustration.

I hate seeing her so upset, but most of all I hate that it's me that's making her feel unsafe. She stares up at me for a few breaths before closing her eyes and giving me a slow nod.

"Open your eyes, sweetheart. For this conversation, I need your undivided attention." When she does, I drop a gentle kiss on her forehead. "I love you, Embree. I always have, and always will. It's why no matter what, I will do right by you. I can't promise that we'll bring him home, but I swear I will get you answers. However, our chances are better with Ben's help. He has the resources I'll need. Resources that will help us piece it all together much faster. So, I ask that you please trust me. Give me your permission to tell Ben and I'll make this our top priority until we get you answers."

She takes a few seconds, but then finally relents.

"Words Embree. I need to hear you say it."

"Okay, fine. Yes. You can tell him."

Want to read ahead? The next 
2 Chapters are available FREE
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OLLOW ME on REAM
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Author’s Note:

Finally, the truth comes out and I love that it was Lucas she decided to confide in! Maybe it’s because Lucas used to be her sounding board when she was a kid, or maybe it’s that his detachment from the family makes it easier for her to speak her truth. Whatever it is, Lucas realizes he’s in a unique position to help.

So what do you think? Is what Emilia disclosed to Lucas what you expected was happening with her husband? Do you think it’s enough to make Lucas extend his stay in Ruby Creek? I can’t wait to read all your comments!NEW CHAPTERS post at 3:00 PM EST on Tuesdays & Fridays!!!

NEW CHAPTERS post at 7:00 PM EST on Tuesdays & Fridays!!!

For updates on this and future stories, remember to follow me.

Chapter 16

Lucas

Pulling up to the address Ben sent, I take a moment to scope out the area. The modest, three-story brick building on the corner of Main and Willow Street is unassuming and gives no indication of what hides behind its thick exterior walls. The only clue there’s a business here at all is the small white sign by the front door that reads OTS in bold black letters. Ben sure wasn’t kidding when he said they keep a low profile.

“Guess this is it, bud. Let’s get your gear on.”

When he sees it, Nero positions himself so I can strap on the harness. Concerned about introducing him to so many people at once, I opted to leave him at the Inn while I got my haircut and then again last night, when I went to dinner at Embree’s mom’s house. Those two occasions were the first we’d been apart since I adopted him a year ago and I’d been worried I’d come home to chewed walls, torn bedding, and a miserable pup with a bloody mouth from him trying to chew his way back to me. To my surprise, each time I returned, I found him sprawled out on the bed in the exact spot I’d left him. Turns out the fleabag doesn’t miss me when I’m gone, and I’m not entirely sure how to feel about it.

“About last night. The least you could have done was greet me by the door.” I give him a pat on the head, loving the way he leans into me. “In case you’ve forgotten, you’re a dog. Sitting by the door waiting for your master to come home is part of the job description. Now, come on.”

Locking up the truck, I take another look at my surroundings. While it’s Monday morning, the streets in Ruby Creek are quiet. It’s in stark contrast to the hustle and bustle of a typical Monday in New York City. I’ve been gone for so long that I’d forgotten the quiet feel of small-town life, and the terrifying thing is that the longer I’m here, the more I can see the appeal of building a life here. I know it’s a ridiculous notion, which is why I keep reminding myself that whether or not this job is a good fit, it could never be a long-term thing.

At the front of the building, I come to a solid steel door. There’s a small speaker panel with a red button on the wall beside it. After trying the handle unsuccessfully, I push the red button and wait to be let in.

“Offset Tactical Security. How can I help you?” I recognize the voice coming through the speaker as Ben’s.

“Hey, it’s me.”

“Sir, could you please state your full name for the record, along with the name of the individual you’re here to see?”

“Seriously asshole…” I shake my head, for a moment wondering if he’s toying with me. “It’s me, Lucas.”

“Sir, I insist you refrain from using such coarse language. Also, please remove your hat before entering the premises. Oh, and I like your shirt. That color really brings out your eyes.” I feel like an idiot when I inexplicably look down at the blue polo I’m wearing before scanning the area around the door for a camera. Sure enough, there it is.

“Motherfucker, open the door,” I snarl. It’s too fucking early for this shit.

The door buzzes as Ben’s cackles come through the speaker. When I make it inside, I find him standing in the middle of what looks to be a reception area.

“Hahaha, asshole. Fuck you.” I tell him, doing my best to sound annoyed.

“Same to you, my friend. I see you brought your sidekick along. Alright if I pet him?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Why don’t you give it a go and see what happens,” I smirk. When he gives me a dirty look, I chuckle. “Yeah, go ahead. Nero, af.” I command him to lie down, and then watch as Ben’s eyes light up in fascination.

“He’s cool as shit. Look at him.” Ben squats next to him and pets his head. As he pats down his neck, Nero’s muscles relax even more. “You said he can track, too?”

“Yep, tracking, explosives detection, and he loves bite work. Biting bad guys being at the top of his favorite pastimes.”

“Noted.” Ben grins, as he comes to a stand then gives me his customary handshake and bro hug. “Good to see you, man. Thanks for stopping by. I know it was last minute.”

“No problem. I needed to see you, anyway. Is there someplace private we can talk?”

With a nod, he leads me through a hallway to a space filled with several desks. It’s an open floor plan with no cubicles, which makes me wonder how anyone gets anything done. The minute we enter, five pairs of eyes turn toward us.

“Hey fellas, I’d like to introduce you to my best friend, Lucas Holt. He’s a retired Navy SEAL, former Ruby Creek alumni, and former bed wetter, who is strongly considering joining our fine team.”

“Really? As I recall, the bed wetter was you,” I retort.

Rolling his eyes, he says, “Po-tay-to, po-tah-to.” Oh yeah, the fucker thinks he’s a regular comedian.

The first of the guys, a short, stocky dude with brown hair and a beard, steps forward with his hand out. What the man lacks in stature, he more than makes up for in muscle. “Hey, I’m Zeb Kingston.”

“Nice to meet you, Zeb,” I say while returning his handshake.

“Zeb is our logistics guy. Aside from keeping us stocked with what we need, his primary job is to get us in and out of messy situations,” Ben adds before pointing to a man sitting at a desk in front of us. “Now this guy here is James Serrano. Mostly, he’s our muscle. If there’s a job that requires brawn, he’s our go-to guy.”

When he stands to shake my hand, the first thing I notice is the jagged scar running up the right side of his face. Though it looks to be an old wound, the fact it’s still so obvious speaks to the severity of the initial injury. Standing at about my height of 6’ 4“, with a muscular frame, I can see how the guy fits the requirements of a bodyguard.

“Hey, man.”

“Nice to meet you,” I tell him.

“Yo, about time we had another SpecOps guy up in here! I’m Mason Blackwell.”

Towering at about 6 and a half feet tall, with a voice deeper than a grizzly bear, this Mason Blackwell is a beast of a man. He’d be terrifying, if not for that beaming, boyish smile complete with fucking dimples.

“Nice to meet you, Mason.” I shake his huge meaty hand and thank my lucky stars he’s a teammate and not an enemy combatant.

“Mason’s a former Marine, special forces. Spent most of his career running ops in Central and South America. Like James, Mason is our second go-to for big physical jobs. Though with his specialized skill set, he works closely with Zeb and Owen here,” he points at another man, “on reconnaissance, mission tactics, and strategy.”

With a smile on his face, the man Ben referred to as Owen steps forward. “Owen Walker. I look forward to working with you.” Unlike the other guys, who are sporting more casual attire, Owen is dressed in a tailored three-piece suit. The guy looks out of place. His sense of style looks more corporate executive than a security expert, but hell, what do I know?

“Owen is our Systems Specialist and Security Expert, aka our resident hacker. He runs all our system security jobs as well as any research support the team might need.”

When Ben turns around, I follow his line of sight and I’m surprised to find another man sitting at a corner desk behind us. He makes no effort to get up, instead he lifts his chin in my direction and says, “Dominick Reeves.” With his leather jacket, full beard, long hair, and tattoos that peek over the collar of his black t-shirt, he looks more like a biker than a security guy.

“Nice to meet you,” I tell him, following his lead and making no effort to go near him.

“Dom here is former S.W.A.T. We came up together on the force and got out around the same time. Like me, he does a bit of everything, filling in where he’s needed. Anyway, why don’t you introduce them to your friend.” Ben says, pointing at Nero, who stands patiently at my side.

“Ah, everyone, this is Nero. He’s a retired combat assault dog. He was a member of my SEAL Team and served with us for almost three years before he was retired. I adopted him shortly thereafter.”

“Damn, he’s a beauty. Never got the pleasure of serving with one, but got to see them in action. Were you his handler?” Mason asks as he leans over to pet my dog.

“No, my buddy was. He was KIA.” It’s all I offer, all the while making sure to keep the memories of my fallen comrades locked down tight.

“My bad, sorry for your loss,” he says as he comes to a stand.

The regret on his face is genuine and like that of a soldier who’s suffered through loss and understands what it’s like. Nodding my head in appreciation, I chance a look at Ben, hoping he’ll read my need to move this along.

With a clap of his hands, he informs them, “Okay boys, we’ll be in the conference room finishing up our discussion. The rest of you get on with your day.” Then to me, he says, “This way.”

When we arrive at the large conference room, I let Nero off his lead, then take a seat at the conference table. The space is plain, with white walls and no decorations, much like the parts of the office I’ve seen so far. The only items in the room are a dark wooden table with 14 chairs and some sort of high-tech telephone sitting at the center. On the far wall there are several large screens, and what looks like yet another set of cameras.

“Did you guys just move into this space?” I ask, thinking maybe it’s why everything in the office looks so bare.

“No. We’ve been here since the beginning but given what we do and how often we’re on the road, focusing on decor seemed like a waste of time.” Leaning back in his chair across from me, he puts his hands behind his head. “So, are you here to talk about the job or something else?”

“Both, I guess. I wanted to fill you in on my conversation with Embree last night.”

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Author's Note: 

Meet the team! 
Each of these guys will play major roles in the overarching plot of the Broken Redemption Series, and each will eventually get their happily ever after. 

So what do you think? Did any of these guys catch your eye yet? I can't wait to read all your comments!

NEW CHAPTERS post at 7:00 PM EST on Tuesdays & Fridays!!!

For updates on this and future stories, remember to follow me.

# Chapter 17

Lucas

Just as I'm about to let the words spill from my lips, I remember the look of panic on her face when I suggested we tell Ben the truth. For a second I hesitate, my mind reeling as I question if this is the right thing to do, given the seriousness of the FBI's threats. But then I think of the uncertainty surrounding her husband. The multi-agency covert operation he was a part of when he disappeared and the suspicious way the FBI handled the situation thus far is concerning. There are too many unknowns. Unknowns that could have dire consequences for Embree and the girls and, God forbid, threaten their safety.

And that right there is all the validation I need to proceed.

"We talked, and she filled me in on what's happened since Creed left. She confirmed he left for an undercover assignment three years ago, on April 26th. He never shared mission specifics, so she doesn't know where he went. The last time they spoke was two months later, around the end of June. About ten months later, almost a year to the date from when he left, she got a call from an agent at the FBI informing her Creed hadn't checked in with his handler. She was told it had been a few weeks since he last made contact and was thus presumed missing."

"Two years. Are you serious? He's been missing for two fucking years, and she never said a word. Why? Why the hell would she keep that from us?"

"Because they threatened to arrest her if she didn't keep his status and whereabouts a secret."

"What?"

"My thoughts exactly. She was given no other information. Every month she gets a call from an agent, Robert Kessler, checking to see if she's heard from him and to remind her of the consequences if she were to disclose details of the investigation to anyone outside the bureau. She's tried on various occasions to get answers but has gotten nowhere. She's kept records of the calls and emails she's sent. All were ignored or answered with canned responses. To me, it's all very suspicious."

"What. The. Hell?" Ben tilts his head, looking up as he takes in a breath.

"I'm sure I don't have to say it, but we need to keep a lid on this. No one outside this building can know what she told us. She's agreed to let me help, but there's a real risk here. The legal kind that comes with federal charges and prison time should we make a mistake and get caught. Embree included. You need to consider that before you agree to help us."

To my surprise, he doesn't take any time to consider the risk. Instead, his response is immediate. "She's family. Of course, I'll help, but Christ! Drawing the ire of the FBI..." he sighs. "We're going to take our time on this. Do what we can to mitigate the risks as we go."

"You're right. Ultimately, our goal is to not break any laws. Most of the digging I think I can do myself by cashing in some favors I'm owed. Nevertheless, there may be things I need that are beyond my capabilities. I'm hoping you'll let me tap into your resources if I promise to do my best to keep everything above board."

"Resources. You mean hacking?"

I nod. "Hoping you have someone who can access the government's network without being noticed."

"You want to hack into the FBI? 
The 
FBI?" Ben's eyes go wide as he shakes his head like he's having trouble believing what I'm asking.

"Possibly. Along with the CIA, DEA, and maybe even the ATF, since they're probably part of the joint task force. If all else fails, then the Departments of Justice, Defense, or hell, even the Department of State." I smirk as I notice he's breaking out into a sweat. "You know, wherever the investigation leads us."

"God damn." He whistles. "Only Lucas Holt would have the audacity to step into my office years after he disappeared to ask that I help him hack our federal government. Fuck!" He lowers his head, his fists thumping at his forehead a few times before he sighs and reaches for the phone at the center of the table. "Owen, need you in here. And bring Mason."

"They can both hack?" I ask when he hangs up the phone.

"No, Owen is our specialist for that kind of thing. As for Mason, he spent his career working missions in South America. Since we think that's where the undercover op took Creed, Mason's expertise might come in handy."

As he finishes, the guys walk in and take a seat. For the next few minutes, I explain the situation, filling them in on what we might need and everything that's at stake.

"Maybe he was burned," Mason states.

"Burned?" Ben asks.

"It's a possibility. That, or something went wrong and he went rogue. Though if that were the case, wouldn't they have surveillance on Embree? You know, in case he makes contact?" I ask.

"How do we know they don't?" Owen pipes in.

"Wait, hold on just a minute. English, please, for those of us who don't speak fed." Ben stands nervously, walking towards the door, which he then shuts.

"The way they handled things with Embree two years ago makes little sense," I explain. "The bureau is similar to the military when it comes to things like this. When an agent goes missing or is presumed dead, they would take steps to tie up loose ends—resolving the matter quickly, so nothing comes back to bite them later. They don't leave open-ended questions or angry spouses who could expose the situation, thereby making life for them exponentially more difficult. Everything they've done so far suggests something else is going on. Either Creed was arrested and charged by whatever country he's in, and therefore burned by the United States who disavowed any knowledge of what he was doing there, or..."

"Creed turned and is now working against the FBI." Ben finishes my sentence, the worried expression on his face signaling he gets it.

"Exactly. Either way, and for reasons we don't yet know, they don't want anyone to know. Likely because they're trying to contain the situation outside the usual channels. And the red flags don't stop there. According to Embree, Creed is still receiving a paycheck from the government, direct deposited to his account on the 15th and 30th of every month. They're still paying him as if he were alive and working the case."

"That's strange. The government doesn't give its money away out of the kindness of its heart. If they're still paying him, there must be a reason." Mason chimes in.

"Maybe it's their way of keeping Emilia quiet. If the paychecks keep rolling in, she's more inclined to go along with what they're telling her." Ben adds.

"There's more." I take a deep breath, knowing this is the part she didn't want anyone to know. "Before Creed left, he served her with divorce papers. That last time she heard from him, he called to confirm she'd signed and filed the paperwork. She told him she hadn't, they argued, and he hung up on her."

"That fucking asshole! Did he plan this shit? Jesus Christ!" Ben pounds on the table, scaring Nero. The guttural growl as he lunges at Ben snaps me into action.

"Nero, nee." I correct him. Instantly, he pulls back and sits by my feet.

"What the hell was that?" Mason grins, his eyes bouncing from Nero to me and back again.

"It's Dutch. It means stop or no... I think."

"You think?" Ben asks, his mouth hanging open in shock.

"Told you I wasn't his handler. I know the basic commands, and what I don't know, we work out. He's smart. He figures things out." I shrug, knowing the situation was never out of my control.

"He was ready to eat your face, Ben! God, that was awesome! Where can I get one of those?" Mason's eyes twinkle with absolute glee.

"Oh, no! Do not tell him! The last thing the big man needs is a man-eating dog. Dude's scary enough as it is." Owen quips.

"That's enough! Need I remind you we're in the middle of a situation?" Ben stresses, pulling us back to the problem at hand. "It looks to me like Creed planned this. Is that your guess?"

"Could be. But it doesn't explain the way the FBI is handling his disappearance," I respond.

"I'm in." Owen grins maniacally in Ben's direction as he rubs his palms together. "Sold. No need to discuss it further. Put me in coach."

While the rest of us smile at Owen's antics, Ben looks back at me, conflicted. This is his company, a security agency he's built from the ground up. His sole mission is to protect the vulnerable and underserved members of this community who don't stand a chance against the elite and more powerful. It doesn't escape me that what I'm asking him to do puts it all at risk.

"If this were anyone else, I wouldn't even consider it. But for Emilia, Creed... the girls." He stands, walking to the back of the room, where he stops with his back to us. After a deep sigh, he turns around. "Do it. But we need to tread lightly. Do our best to stay under the radar for as long as possible. You got that, Owen?"

Before Owen can respond, I add, "There's nothing to be done. Not yet. First, let me work through my contacts and see what I can dig up organically. After that, the four of us can regroup, and together we'll decide next steps. Our plan must be methodical. Precise. We can leave nothing to chance. Agreed."

"Now that's a plan I can live with. Phew..." Ben collapses, bent over with his hands on his knees. Though I know it's part of his theatrics, it's clear he's relieved. "For a minute I thought we were going after the feds guns a-blazing. Thought maybe I'd have to pack for Guantanamo."

"Lucky for you, there's no need to pack, boss. Guantanamo's an all-inclusive, all-expenses-paid excursion to the Caribbean. Toiletries and orange jumpsuits included," Mason jokes, the jovial smile on the big man's face makes him look like a giant kid.

"Well, I'll be sure to reach out to you for packing tips if the time comes. For now, leave us. You got work to do."

After the guys say their goodbyes and walk out of the room, Ben's face grows serious. Taking a seat, he points a finger in my direction and says, "The only way I can justify taking OTS in this direction is with your commitment to come on board. Become a full-fledged member of this team, Luc. It's the only way this will work."

"Okay. For Embree's sake, I'll do it." I say with no hesitation, though the niggle of apprehension at the base of my gut flares to life.

"So you're staying? You'll make plans to move back to town? You'll come on as a partner?"

Focusing on my breathing, I take a second to find the right words to convey the reality of my situation. I don't belong here anymore, which is why I must leave and continue my search for the place where I do belong. Staying can only be a temporary arrangement.

"I won't be coming on as a partner, but as a temporary member of the team. I'm still not sure what will come after, but I can commit to staying until we get Embree the answers she needs and we confirm she's not in any danger."

Staring at me intently, his jaw ticks a few times as the lines over his forehead seem to grow more pronounced.

"A year. Give us at least a year and you got a deal."

"A year? I can't commit to a fucking year, Ben? Where will I fucking live? How would that even work? What the fuck am I supposed to do in this god-forsaken town for a damn year?" I protest, my voice coming out in a harsh growl.

The tension suddenly rolling through my body serves as a warning that I'm teetering close to the edge of a panic attack. Sweat is already forming on my brow, and my breathing has grown ragged and harried. Needing to move, I get to my feet, pacing to the furthest point from where he sits. It feels like he's setting a trap, backing me into a corner, and forcing me into something I don't want.

"You can live in the house you still own, or hell, you can stay with us. We have the space and Jen would love to have you. As far as what you'll do, you'll work. You'll spend time with Jen and Embree, the kids, and your friends. You can use the time to reacquaint yourself with the people who love you and missed you while you were gone. And you'll be here for your sister when your niece or nephew is born. At the end of the year, you'll have planted roots again. You'll have a place that will feel like home. A place you can always return to when whatever it is you're looking for doesn't feel like enough."

"I can't stay, Ben." Still turned away from him, I shake my head and let the words come. Like a sordid confession, they're laced with bitterness and taste like failure. "Too much bad shit happened here. There are too many ghosts and fucked up memories I'd rather forget."

"You're right. There are. But you know what else is here? Your family, your friends. Your fucking sister, who also happens to be my wife and the light of my goddamn life. She's pregnant. I know that doesn't mean much to you, but I'm telling you. This is everything to her and she wants to experience it with you. It took seven years, you know..."

Something in his voice changes, causing me to take notice. The air of arrogance that I've grown to accept is a part of him is gone. Replaced instead with a feeling of hopeless despair that's so unlike the man I know it sends prickles of apprehension tingling up my spine.

"To get pregnant, it took seven years of doctor's appointments, tests, procedures, and more tears than you can imagine. For seven years, I watched the woman I love fade away. Destroyed from the inside out by her body's inability to do what for her was a biological imperative. It almost ruined her, and she nearly succumbed to the guilt of not being able to give us a child. When I refused to let her give up on herself, she turned her anger in my direction and almost tore us apart. She tried to end what we had and almost succeeded." He pauses for a moment, lost under the weight of memories that look to be too much... even for him.

"But," he continues, his tone strong and commanding again as he shoots me an angry glare. "What she didn't know is that my love for her borders on fucking obsession. There is nothing I won't do, take, or destroy, to make that woman happy and keep her mine. Right now, the one thing that would make her the happiest is you. She needs you here, Lucas. Maybe because you're the last connection to her parents, her last living relative outside of our baby. To me, the reason doesn't matter. The only thing that does is that this is what she wants. What she needs. And if she needs you here to get her through this pregnancy, you best believe I will resort to doing whatever it takes to make that happen."

"You would do this? Sacrifice Embree. Leave her exposed and alone to contend with the FBI. With the hell that could rain down on her, should there be blowback thanks to whatever her asshole husband was involved in? You would put her at risk, to manipulate me?"

"I would hate it, but I'd gladly add it to the list of shit I'll someday burn in hell for. Like I said, there's nothing I won't do, take, or destroy, to make my woman happy. There is no sin, regret, or consequence big enough to stop me from making sure the love of my life gets everything she wants. I love her Lucas. It's a sick kind of love that obscures everything outside of it, including my morals. If you walk out of that door today, I will withhold my team's help until you come to your senses and agree to give us a chance."

"Jenny wouldn't want this. She would fucking hate you if she knew what you're doing. That you're attempting to extort me into doing something I don't want by threatening to abandon Embree when she needs us the most."

"She would. Of that, I have no doubt, but guess what else I know for sure. You won't tell her. Not while this threat from the FBI is hanging over Emilia's head." As if the conversation is over, he stands. "All I'm asking is one year, Lucas. One year to prove to you that there is a place in this town, in this family... for you. If in one year none of what I say feels true, then it's done. You can move on to do whatever else you want with your life. I won't stop you."

Want to read ahead? The next 
2 Chapters are available FREE
 if you F
OLLOW ME on REAM
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Author’s Note:

This is Ben in full protector mode! As I shared with you before, Ben is fiercely protective of those he loves, to the point he’s willing to cross lines others won’t. While on the outside his ultimatum to Lucas may seem callous, and wrong, I assure you this is Ben’s way of protecting everyone. His wife, Lucas, and Embree.

Being in Ben’s head as I have been while writing this book, it’s not in him to turn his back on Embree like he’s insinuating. If Lucas wasn’t so lost in his head he would realize it’s an empty threat.

But like I told you, Ben possesses the uncanny ability of manipulating Lucas into making decisions that if left to his own devices, he would never have the courage to make for himself.

It feels ruthless, but I assure you, Ben’s actions come from a place of love.

So what do you think about Ben and the ultimatum he gave Lucas? I can’t wait to read all your comments!

NEW CHAPTERS post at 7:00 PM EST on Tuesdays & Fridays!!!

For updates on this and future stories, remember to follow me.

Chapter 18

Emilia

“Here we are,” I tell the girls as the familiar black Chevy Tahoe comes into view.

From the sight of it alone, the nerves in my belly go all a flutter. It’s a familiar sensation. One I haven’t felt since I was a teenager, which is why I welcome the feeling as much as I repel it. This excitement, this giddy anticipation… there’s just no space for these types of feelings in my life. I’m no longer that starry-eyed teenage girl who doodled hearts with our names intertwined, and he’s no longer the boy who swore he’d always be by my side. We’ve both grown up since then. Our lives have long since diverged and put us on different paths. It’s something I can’t allow myself to forget.

“Is that Uncle Lucas?” Alyssa asks from the backseat.

Following her line of sight, I spot him sitting on a nearby bench with Nero lying at his feet. Their backs are to us, both of them focused on the lake glistening in the distance. With the way he’s slumped forward, it looks as though he’s carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. It’s something I’ve noticed he tries to hide, but there is no mistaking the hints of strain that linger around the edges of his essence. The heaviness that surrounds him leaves no doubt that the years he spent away from us left their share of scars.

“That’s him.” I turn off the ignition and then glance at the girls through the rearview mirror. “Go on and take your seatbelts off. I’ll let you both out in a second.”

Stepping out onto the gravel lot, I shut the door and stop at the trunk of my CRV to get the small bag of snacks I packed for them. The sound of my door closing must have alerted him of our arrival, for I sense him coming toward me several seconds before I see him.

“You won’t need that unless there’s medication or something they absolutely need,” he says about the bag in my hand, as he comes to stand beside me.

“It’s just a few snacks and juice.” I smile at him, though now I wonder if maybe he’s changed his mind. “I thought we were taking them on a short hike?”

“We are…”

“Hi, Uncle Lucas!” Alyssa squeals from where she leans over the back seat. Mallory’s right beside her with a shy grin planted on her face.

“Well, hello there Ally Mally!” Lucas squeals back in a high-pitched voice that matches theirs and makes me laugh. “Nero was eager to get started, but I told him we had to wait for our tour guides. You girls ready to show us around?”

Not at all surprised by their excitement, I close the trunk with what I packed in hand while their muffled shrieks and giggles carry on from inside the car. Opening the driver’s side passenger door, I reach for Mallory’s hand and help her jump out. No sooner are her little feet on the ground than Lucas gently pulls us to the side and reaches a hand to help Alyssa down. Once he’s got her, he shuts the car door and moves on to the much-anticipated introductions.

“Ally Mally, meet my best friend, Nero. Nero, meet my best girls, Ally and Mally.”

“Oooh, he’s sooo cute!” Alyssa coos, as both girls reach for the dog.

When Alyssa wraps her little arms around his neck while Mallory does the same to his head, my body tenses in alarm until I notice the way Nero is eagerly planting kisses all over their smiling faces. The dog’s tail is wagging so furiously that it’s obvious he, too, is beyond excited to meet them.

“He’s so good with them,” I tell Lucas, completely surprised by the way the three of them look to instantly bond.

“Yeah. He loves kids. Always has. Even in the middle of a war zone, he always looked out for them,” he adds matter-of-factly, his eyes glued to the adorable sight before us.

“A war zone?” I wonder out loud, not sure if I heard him correctly. As if I caught him by surprise, his sharp gaze comes to me. The lines on his forehead twist into a sharp v, making him look confused… or maybe angry? “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have…” aware I might have overstepped, I try to take it back.

“Don’t apologize. Sometimes I forget that I’m out, and end up talking about things I shouldn’t. Nero and I served together on the same team. He saved our lives more times than I can count.”

When he walks away, I’m left standing alone to process what he’s said. I remember how Nero reacted to him that day at the park when Lucas succumbed to a panic attack. I assumed he was a pet who was attuned to his master’s distress simply because they were bonded. But now I realize his disposition to comfort Lucas in his time of need goes so much deeper. He’s attuned because he was there. Because he lived it and experienced whatever still haunts his master.

By the time I come back into the present, Lucas and Nero—who is off his lead—are leading the girls toward the passenger side of his truck. When I get to them, Lucas takes what I packed from my arm and sets it down on the front seat of his car.

“Is there anything in there other than snacks or drinks that they’ll need?” He asks.

“No. We applied sunscreen before we left, but, oh… I forgot the insect repellent.”

“Not a problem. I got you girls covered.” Turning his back to us, he grabs a few things from his car, which he then hands off to the girls. “This pink one here is for you, Ms. Ally, and this purple one is for you, Ms. Mally. A little birdie told me your favorite colors, so I hope you like them.”

“A backpack! I love it so so so so much.” Alyssa tells him, as Mally inspects hers with an awed smile.

“It’s a hydration backpack. Here, let me show you.”

For the next few minutes, he walks them through everything he packed for them. He’s thought of everything from filling the water bladders in each of the little bags, to healthy snacks, small bottles of sunscreen, bug spray, flashlights, and even a small first aid kit for each of them.

“And this buckle here is also a whistle. If you get lost, use it and it will tell us exactly where you are. Here, try it.” Squatting in front of them, he holds up their respective buckles to their mouths and encourages them to give it a go. As they blow with gusto a few times, his face lights up with a smile. “Perfect. Remember safety first, so as soon as you can’t see us, whistle as loud as you can and we’ll come find you. Now, this is how you get to your water.” He unclips the small hoses and then hands them their respective ends. “You pull the little red lever up like this and wallah. It’s a straw! Go on and take a sip.”

Beyond delighted, the girls beam in fascination as they drink water out of their new backpacks. As often as we go hiking, never once did I consider buying them a setup like this.

“Gosh Lucas, this is so nice. You didn’t have to do all this.”

“Of course I did. Safety first, right girls? Now that we have our supplies, we’re ready to go.” Going back into his truck, he pulls out an adult-size hydration backpack which he hands to me, while he slips a fourth one onto himself. “Oh, one last thing.” Reaching back between the seats, he pulls out several trekking poles. “Here we are. These big ones here are for your mama and me, and these…” he hands two pink ones to Alyssa, and two purple ones to Mallory. “Are for you guys. Here, let me adjust them.”

“What are all the colored rubber bands for?” Alyssa asks referring to the multitude of colored rubber bands that line each of the poles. Her delight is clear as she watches Lucas adjust them to the appropriate height.

“Those turn our hiking sticks into journey sticks. See, watch this.” Extending his hand to a tuft of dandelions on his left, Lucas tugs on the yellow flowers, which he then loops underneath a rubber band on each of the girls’ poles. “As we go on our journey, we’ll look for cool things along the way and add them to our poles like this. By the time we’re done, we’ll have a super cool collection to remind us of all the fun we had.”

Overcome by a sudden flood of emotions, my vision blurs and I look away. Memories of holding my dad’s hand as we trekked through these same woods looking for the perfect stick—Lucas and Jen, with their parents doing the same—come rushing back. The search for that perfect walking stick was critical to the start of our hiking adventures and it was Lucas’s mom, Aunt Jessa, who would transform them for us into glorious journey sticks. It was such a simple thing and yet something that all these years later is one of my fondest memories.

When I meet Lucas’s gaze, his sea-green eyes are soft and filled with emotion. It’s then it hits me that this is an homage to his mom. To our dads. This moment is for them as much as it is for him and me, and that he’s sharing it with my girls warms my heart in ways I will never forget.

Looking over the girls one last time, he says, “You guys look ready. Now it’s your mama’s turn.”

Moving to stand in front of me, I’m surprised when he reaches out to help me into the pack he brought me. As he gently works all the straps and buckles, I feel his eyes scanning over me like a gentle caress. As badly as I want to meet his gaze I hold back. The way my body flushes with heat under his focused attention has a multitude of alarms blaring in my head. His proximity and the way he’s attending to me have me precariously close to wanting to cross lines that shouldn’t be crossed. Lines that neither of us can afford to break.

When he’s finished, he steps behind me. I hear him unzip one of the compartments on my pack, and then I hear crinkling as he pulls something out.

Holding up a green plastic sheath he explains, “It’s a compostable trash bag.” Then, looking over at the girls, he adds, “It’s for any trash we find along the way. It’s our job to protect the environment, and it’s how we keep the animals safe.”

And that’s when I realize that I am that starry-eyed girl after all and he is the same boy who stole my young heart all those years ago. If there was ever a question that the Lucas I once loved still exists within this man, his actions, his words, and the way he’s taking care of everyone and everything around him are proof that the boy I loved is still there. And the feelings and emotions that realization evokes are as sad as they are terrifying because I now understand how much trouble I’m in.

For the first time, I’m questioning if there’s really a way to pursue a friendship with this man given the intense connection that proves we’re so much more. Especially as I’m struck by the deep sense of loss from all the experiences that were meant for us to share, but we’ll never get to have. It breaks my heart. Grief shreds me to pieces so I drop my head, using my hair as a shield to hide the devastation that’s swallowing me whole. 

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Author's Note:

He bought them hiking supplies, you guys!
 And the whole thing with the journey sticks and the way he made sure those two little girls and Emilia had everything they needed melted my heart. I can see why Emilia's so smitten, yet heartbroken as she gets a glimpse of what could have been.

So what was your favorite part? I can't wait to read all your comments!

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Chapter 19

Emilia

Following his lead, we make our way down the dirt path toward the forest canopy. The sadness and guilt in my heart weigh heavy in my chest and it takes everything I have to smile and follow along as he banters on with the girls. When they push on a few steps ahead of him, he falls back to walk by my side. The silence between us is thick and uncomfortable, and like me, he seems weighed down by his thoughts. I wonder if he’s feeling the same sense of loss. The intense ache for the life that could have been.

“I was surprised to hear from you,” I blurt out, hoping to break the unpleasant tension between us. “I thought you’d be on the road and gone by now.” Though he says nothing, I can tell he heard me. Looking up at him as we walk side by side, I watch as his eyes remain glued to the two little girls happily walking in front of us, with Nero between them.

“The day didn’t turn out as I planned,” he says finally. “I met with Ben this morning. Filled him in on what we talked about. He and the team are on board if we should need them. For now, I’ve called in those favors I mentioned. Once I hear from my contacts, we’ll know what to do next.”

“Alright,” is what I tell him, though I’m sure he can tell I’m anything but. “You said the day didn’t turn out as planned. Aside from talking to Ben, did something else happen?” I ask, hoping to steer us away from discussing the mess that is my life.

“After meeting with Ben, it became clear I’ll need to stay for a little while.”

As happy as I am to hear that he’ll be with us a bit longer, I cringe at the thought it might be because of me.

“I can’t let you do this, Luc. I don’t want to be the reason you’re stuck in Ruby Creek if it’s not what you want.”

“Believe me. You’re not.”

His tone is indignant, like he’s annoyed by my assumption. It really, really stings. Stupid tears burn behind my eyes and I feel so damn foolish. You’d think by now I would know better than to put myself in a position to be rejected. That after everything I’ve been through, I’d stop selfishly wanting to be the center of someone’s world. That I’d stop yearning to be loved the way that I love? All in. With all my heart, my soul, my everything. Putting those I love above all, including myself. For once I just want someone to choose me, even just one time.

Which is why I keep getting hurt. Because I refuse to accept reality for what it is, instead falling headfirst into naïve notions and silly dreams. If Lucas didn’t choose me back then when we were in love, why would I expect that he’d choose me now? Just like my husband didn’t choose me when he left three years ago. The kind of love I want doesn’t exist and continuing to hope for it is a recipe for continued disappointment and heartbreak.

For the next quarter-mile, we walk in silence. The girls stop now and then, Lucas helping as they pick a selection of items to add to their journey sticks while Nero looks on with curiosity. The entire way, I’m lost under a cloud of dejection. Torn between memories of my past and the depressing reality that is my present. If Lucas notices my dark mood, he says nothing about it.

“Wow,” Alyssa exclaims in a loud whisper, which is when I notice where we are.

“I know, right?” Lucas moves to stand next to them while I hang back, watching. “Wait until you see inside. Your mama, Aunt Jennie, and I discovered this cave when we were a little older than you guys. We used to come here a lot. It was our safe space, where we came to hide from our troubles.”

“You did?” Alyssa looks up at him, her little hand moving to hold his.

“We did. One time, we were down by the lake swimming when a storm came. The thunder was so loud it scared Aunt Jennie and your mama. We grabbed our things as fast as we could and ran to hide here in the cave. We watched the storm happen from right inside there. Everything outside was wet and wind-battered, but not us. We were dry, safe, and happy to be together.” When he turns his head to look at me, I attempt a smile. Through my tear-filled eyes, I watch as he looks down at each of the girls and then says, “Want to go with me to check it out?”

To my shock, not only do they both nod, but when Lucas reaches his free hand out to Mallory, she takes it with no hesitation. Carefully, he walks my girls to the entrance of the small cave. It’s not that deep. There’s just enough space for the four of us to sit comfortably if we wanted to. As Lucas regales them with stories of our youth, he and the girls walk around, picking up the bits of trash that litter the space. Once it’s clean, Lucas and Nero disappear into the woods, only to return a few minutes later with two small branches full of leaves. He then shows the girls how to sweep the bottom of the cave with the branches until the space is clean. By the time we’re on our way, the cave is spotless, much the way he always kept it.

“Do we have time to watch the sunset?” he asks quietly so the girls don’t hear.

“Sure,” I tell him with a shy smile because I already know where he’s taking us.

It’s not long before the steep climb gets to be too much for Mallory’s little legs. After handing me her trekking poles, he lifts her onto his shoulders. When we arrive at the top of the clearing, the familiar outcropping that looks over the lake comes into view. While the slope of the hill isn’t all that steep, we’re high enough that the view is beautiful but not dangerous.

“Remember this?” Lucas whispers from next to me. A knowing smile on his face.

“I do.” Because this is the place where I fell in love with the boy who I swore was my destiny. All it took was this view, this boy and his guitar, for me to realize my heart belonged to him. How many sunsets did we watch from this same rock? How many nights did I spend staring at the boy, with the amazing voice, who sang to me like every lyric held a piece of his soul?

“Good. Now come on girls, we have a sun to put to bed.” When he smirks and winks at me, I swear my legs almost give out. It’s been so long since I heard those words. Since I felt the powerful spell that smirk and wink cast upon my body. If there was ever a doubt that I’m still that naïve, starry-eyed girl, this confirms it.

“We’re what?” Alyssa looks up at him, her head cocked to one side as she emits a playful giggle.

“Putting the sun to bed. It’s something your mama and I used to do. We’d come up to this rock and have some snacks. Then we’d stay with the sun until he went off to bed for the night.”

“Cooool…” Alyssa trails off. Her eyes alight with wonder as she looks off towards the horizon where the sun now lingers mere feet from the edge of the world.

At the top of the flat rock, Lucas sets Mally down and then he comes to my pack. Unzipping yet another compartment, he pulls out a blanket, along with a small pink box that came from his sister’s bakery.

“Now. I have it on good authority that in this box you will find all your favorite treats. The pink ones are for you Ally, the purple ones are for Mally, and the rest for your mama and me to share.”

“What about Nero?” Alyssa asks.

“Trust me, he had enough treats for one day,” Lucas tells her as he tussles her hair before he sets off to lay out the picnic blanket.

When he’s finished, he reaches for each of the girls and gets them settled, Nero happily lying between them. When he offers me his hand, I hesitate to take it. What he’s done for us tonight feels much too intimate. From making the girls feel special by gifting them their own hiking equipment, to finding out their favorite colors and treats. To the way, he’s taken us back in time to revisit some of the best moments from our past. He’s making me feel too much. He’s making me long for things I shouldn’t want.

“Take my hand, Embree,” he commands, his voice low and deep in a tone I used to know but haven’t heard in years.

When I meet his eyes, what I see makes my chest ache. There’s a hopefulness about him. A playful wonderment that twinkles in the whites of his eyes and lights him up. For the first time since he’s come back, the darkness that typically haunts his face is gone. Though I know I shouldn’t, I can’t deny him anything when he looks at me this way.

Taking his hand, I allow him to lead me to take a seat next to him. We’re not touching, but he’s close enough I can feel his warmth the entire time we follow that grand ball of light as it sinks over the valley below. Whether it’s him or the sunset that ultimately steals my breath, I don’t know. What I do know for sure is that I feel more alive than I have in years.

The various shades of bright yellow and orange, against the backdrop of the shimmering water, set the valley below ablaze. Every second that goes by, the colors grow brighter. The surrounding shadows grow deeper and deeper until those yellows and oranges turn to moody reds and greys. Against the backdrop of the setting sun, that’s when I feel his gaze blowing like a whisper over my sun-kissed skin.

When I turn to look at him, I’m mesmerized. Just like I was back when I was that 16-year-old girl. Back when we sat on this very same rock, while he played his guitar, singing the passionate lyrics of his parent’s wedding song—Making Love Out of Nothing at All, by Air Supply. Over and over, he would sing it for me, no matter how many times I asked. And like it was just yesterday, I still remember his deep baritone voice, with the range most singers only dream of. I remember his breathy, gravel-filled melodic tone that would have my insides aching to get closer to him. The emotions that spilled from his lips as he sang words of love and devotion were so powerful that to this day, I feel them down to my core.

“You okay?” he asks in a quiet voice.

Embarrassed by my run-away thoughts, and afraid that just by looking, he’ll see through to what I’m thinking, I keep my attention on the girls. They’re quiet. The scene laid out before them, thankfully holds their focus.

“I’m okay. Thank you for doing all this. You didn’t have to.”

“Actually, I did. I’ve been gone a long time. I have a lot to make up for.”

As silence descends upon us, the pressure in my chest continues to build. The influx of feelings he’s awoken in me mixes with the guilt I feel over my husband until the pressure grows to be too much. As the tears start to sting, I take a steadying breath.

“I’m sorry. About yesterday.” I tell him, holding back a sob. “I shouldn’t have said anything, and now I’m angry at myself for being so weak. You have your own life, Lucas. My problems aren’t your responsibility, and it isn’t fair for me to ask you or anyone else to get involved.”

“Look at me,” he reaches for my hand. The gentle way he caresses it sends goosebumps breaking out over my skin. “I’m not sure about a lot of things, especially as it relates to that life you think I have. But in the nine days I’ve been back, the one resounding fact I’m clear on is that you and Jenny are my family. Your problems may not be my responsibility, but it doesn’t change that I want to be here. For you. For her. Plus… I’ve missed you.” He lowers his gaze just as I catch hints of emotion pooling in his eyes. “I’ve missed this.”

That’s how our conversation ends. With the weight of our past, and everything unresolved, hanging between us. With the tendrils of regret, swirling like a haze with the setting sun. It’s the perfect backdrop. Putting the past to bed along with the sun, hoping the coming dawn will bring new light. A new beginning. Something that until this moment, I didn’t think I wanted.

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Author's Note: 

Oh my gosh, this scene!
 Between you and me, writing it made me cry. It's a byproduct of writing in the first person. You get so deep into a character's head that their emotions become yours. Their experiences, their trauma, their regrets, and their heartbreak... it's like it's happening to you. It's a humbling experience, that pulls you closer to characters that in the end feel so tangible and real. You get attached. You fall in love with them. And when they finally get their happy ending, there is nothing more rewarding.

So what do you think of this scene? Could you feel the longing that's pulling Emilia & Lucas together? I can't wait to read your comments!

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Chapter 20

Lucas

I can’t believe that once again I’m sitting in my car, working up the courage to knock on my sister’s door. Only this time, it’s not the regret that’s holding me back, but the utter anger and resentment I feel towards her husband.

The man who’s forced me into this hell. Thanks to him, the throbbing ache I endured for years has turned into an excruciating form of torture. A torment far worse than what I went through as a prisoner of war because, in this case, there is no hope. No escape. There is nothing to latch onto, to help ease away the painful reality that my parents are gone and the life I always wanted died alongside them in that fire.

Just three days since he forced me into this arrangement, the voice that tells me I don’t belong in Ruby Creek has grown exponentially louder. Even while my desire to belong has exploded into an insane type of desperation. Especially now that I’ve had a taste of what’s missing in my life. Now that I’ve caught a glimpse of the path I didn’t take. A life that only existed in my dreams and will forever be out of my reach.

I’d hoped that taking that walk through memory lane would help me and Embree find some much-needed closure. Instead, what it did was bring those old feelings and wounds to the surface. Like a neon sign, it lit up all the hurt, all the unfairness, and the mistakes. By the time we got off that mountain and back to our respective cars, we were but mere shells. Both of us distraught yet resigned to the fate that had somehow torn us apart.

For the first time since the rescue, it made me wish I could go back to the days of complete dissociation. Back when numbness was my friend, and I felt disconnected from the world. From the regret. From the pain. And what’s worse than the fact I can’t escape the feelings drowning me is that for the next year, I have no choice but to white-knuckle my way through it. Because of him. Fucking Ben.

Without a word, I secure Nero’s harness and force myself to get on with it. Sitting here stewing changes nothing. It only gives the asshole more power over me than he already has. What matters now is that I be here for my sister. That I help pull Embree from the hell she’s under. And that I don’t give Ben the satisfaction of knowing how utterly miserable I am because of him.

Locking the car, I lead Nero up the stone steps to the front entrance walkway. Aware of my dark mood, I sense him scanning over me as if he’s trying to decipher what it is we’re walking into. Looking to put him at ease, I praise him for being the good boy that he is. By the time we knock on the front door, he’s relaxed. His tail wags in anticipation as he pants at my side.

“You came!” Jenny squeals as she launches herself into my arms. Her elation at my arrival warms my heart as much as it fans the flames of my guilt. If I hadn’t left her, then maybe she wouldn’t be married to the manipulative asshole.

“Of course. I told you I would.” I drop a quick kiss on the top of her head.

“I know,” she groans. “But I’m still getting used to having you around. I guess a small part of me was afraid you had better things to do,” she says with a shy smile, as she takes me by the hand and pulls me inside.

Hearing that she feels that way stings, but her feelings are justified. For years, I wasn’t there. Having missed every important milestone of her adult life, I deserve every bit of the regret that’s eating me up inside.

“There’s nothing more important than you, Jenny. I hope you know that.” The wistful look in her eyes when she spins to face me says everything I wish I didn’t know. I’ve been absent from her life and so damn careless with her heart she genuinely doesn’t know how much she means to me. “I’ve missed you.” I playfully swipe a knuckle under her chin.

“I’ve missed you too,” she chuckles before looking away. The tears in her eyes are hard to miss, no matter how hard she tries to hide them. “Sorry. Darn pregnancy hormones. It feels like all I do is cry.”

“You making my wife cry again, Holt?” Ben jests from the doorway of the living room.

His attempt at pretending nothing has changed between us falls flat. It takes everything in me to school my features so my contempt for him doesn’t show. That he used Embree’s situation to manipulate me into staying is unforgivable. All the goodwill I had towards him when I heard he was there for Jenny during my absence is long gone. I don’t trust him and he knows it. I don’t know how in the hell he expects us to get through this dinner, much less work together on an ongoing basis.

However, the last thing I want is to hurt my sister. If she knew what Ben had done to keep me here, if she knew how he so callously threatened to withhold helping Embree, she would hate him. But if what he said about her fertility struggles is true, the last thing I want is to cause her distress during this pregnancy. Plus, given the need for secrecy around the Creed situation, it’s best she doesn’t find out.

For now.

“Stop that,” Jenny tells him, as she walks over and curls up against his side. “It’s the hormones that are making me cry. I’m just happy to have my two favorite guys under my roof.” Not wanting to involve her in our conflict, I muster a bright smile that lights her up. “Anyway, you two sit. Talk. Dinner will be ready shortly.” Standing on her toes, she gives her husband a peck on the lips. She then reaches for my arm, giving it a gentle squeeze before she walks past toward the room I assume is their kitchen.

When she’s out of earshot, Ben says, “Thanks for coming.”

“Fuck you.” With my sister gone, there’s no reason to hold back my vitriol. This is how it’s been between us since he forced me to choose between Embree’s safety and my freedom. You’d think after three days of my ire, he’d know by now to leave me the fuck alone, but no. The fucker doesn’t know when to stop.

Pretending he’s oblivious to my mood, he steps forward and crouches down in front of my dog. “Hey, there, boy.” He runs his fingers through his fur, and my traitorous dog eats it up like he can’t get enough. “You should bring him by the office every day. I’m sure the guys would love getting to know him.”

“He’s great at reading my emotions. I’d hate to think what it would do to the guys if he ripped out your throat in front of them,” I tell him curtly.

Not bothering to look at him, I take a seat on the large grey couch and take note of the space. Though the couches are a dark grey color, everything else is a mixture of whites and light pinks. Just like her bakery, everything in this room has my sister written all over it. Reaching for Nero, I remove the leash from his harness and then drop it on the white-planked coffee table.

“Look, man.” The asshole takes a seat in front of me, and to his credit, he almost looks contrite. “I don’t want this animosity between us…”

“Then maybe you shouldn’t have used Embree’s situation to manipulate me.”

With a sigh, he sits back and hangs his head. “You’re right. I can see now that I went about things the wrong way. I tend to overplay my hand sometimes, especially when it comes to my wife’s happiness.”

Ignoring the dumbass and his half-hearted apology, I pull out my phone and scan over old messages. Aside from Pastor David and my buddy Diaz, few reach out to check on me anymore. However, pretending I’m returning messages is better than engaging with the asshole.

“Lucas. I’m sorry. Your sister loves and needs you, so it’s important we get along. Plus, we have to find a way to work together. For the sake of OTS and this situation with Emilia, we must find some common ground.”

When I continue to ignore him, he lets out another heavy sigh. From the corner of my eye, I see him reach into his pocket for his phone. A minute later, an email notification comes across my screen. It’s from him. Reluctantly, I open it and find a series of images.

“Where did you get these? I thought we agreed to wait until we heard from my contacts.”

“We did. However, Owen ran some kind of reverse search of Creed’s image through our facial recognition software. I don’t know exactly how it works, but the gist, it scrapes through the internet with a fine-tooth comb. Searching through databases, servers, social media sites, anything connected to the web. Those pictures came up as a hit, and after looking at them, there’s no question. It’s him.”

“Is the timestamp, right?”

“Looks that way. Did you see the location?”

“Fuck, yeah. Christ.”

“Yep. I’d say you need to reach out to your contacts ASAP. We need answers fast because, based on that, there’s no telling what Creed’s involved in.” No sooner does he finish, than I’m already emailing my contact at the CIA and asking they make the information I requested a priority. “Owen’s working to authenticate everything on our end, so we won’t be sounding the alarms just yet,” he says.

“Agreed,” I confirm. My attention is still on my phone as I forward the same message to my contact at the Justice Department.

When I say nothing else, he tries again. “I meant what I said, Luc. I’m sorry for what happened on Monday. I shouldn’t have approached the situation in that way, and I promise it won’t happen again.”

“Yeah well, we’ll fucking see, won’t we? Since I’m stuck in this town for the next year.” I put my phone back in my pocket and then shoot him a glare.

“About that. Have you given any thought to maybe staying here? At the house with us?”

“The answer is no. I’ve no desire to be anywhere near you beyond the time that’s required. I’ve extended my stay at the Inn. I’ll be staying there for the foreseeable future.”

Ben nods, though the frown on his face deepens. “Can you afford that? To stay there for the entire year?”

“I wouldn’t be there if I couldn’t.” That’s all I offer, as I pick at the seam of my jeans. Little does he know money is the least of my problems. Having spent most of my adult life working for Uncle Sam while he floated all my expenses, I’ve built quite a nest egg for myself. Plus, the salary Ben’s paying me is more than enough to cover the cost.

“In what condition is your parent’s house? Could you stay there?”

As far as I know, my parent’s house is fine. Better than fine actually, since for over a decade I’ve had a property management company maintaining it. Up to a month ago, it was earning a good bit of income from tourists who paid to rent it by the week. My choosing not to stay there has nothing to do with the condition of the house, but with the fact, I have no desire to step foot in that place. The last time I was there was the day of the fire, and though it was rebuilt completely since then, I’m terrified of the memories I’d have to confront if I stepped within its walls.

“I’m not staying there. Ever.”

Thankfully, Jenny calls for us before Ben can respond. Taking his lead, I follow him into the dining room where she’s set the table for the three of us.

“This looks amazing,” I tell her with a smile, as I take a seat across from her. Ben sits on the other side of her. “Thanks for inviting me.”

“Are you kidding? I’m the one who should thank you. We should do this once a week, don’t you think Benny?” she looks over at her husband, who gives her a loving smile.

“Definitely, cupcake. Sounds like fun.”

“We could invite Embree and the girls to join us, too. I’m kicking myself for not thinking of it sooner. She could have come tonight,” Jenny says with a glum expression on her face.

“Next time. Call her later and see which nights work for her.” Ben suggests as he fills his plate with the lasagna, green salad, and garlic bread my sister cooked for us.

“So, what’s going on with you and Emi?” she asks while passing me the bread. The sly grin on her face insinuates she knows more than she does.

“I have no idea what you’re getting at. Embree and I are friends. Just like I’m trying to reconnect with you, I’m doing the same with her.”

“Uh-huh,” she smirks before taking a bite of her food. I swear to Christ, the mischievous glimmer in her eyes grows brighter and brighter as she chews. “So, what was that moment we interrupted between the two of you at Aunt Muriel’s? It looked pretty intimate. For a second, I swore the two of you were going to kiss.”

The heavy silence that descends over the room is suddenly broken by the clank of my fork as it falls from my hand onto the ceramic dinner plate. At the same time, Ben chokes. His face turns a bright shade of red as Jenny pats him on the back. When he reaches out to take a sip from his glass of water, I don’t miss the amusement in his eyes.

“She’s married, Jenny,” I tell her matter-of-factly, as I pick up my wayward fork. “Nothing is going on, other than me reconnecting with an old friend. You know we were close once. Almost as close as you and me, so please cut me some slack and stop making things awkward.” I snarl in her direction but based on the way she and Ben exchange a look, she’s not affected by my anger in the least.

“Lucas,” she sets her fork down, before clasping her hands in front of her. “You guys were a lot more than friends. You were each other’s first love. Seeing the two of you together, it was clear to anyone with eyes that the spark between you is still there.”

Is it fucking ever? In fact, that spark she speaks of is more like a goddamn supernova! Not that it matters.

“And?” I ask in exasperation. “She’s married, and I’m as unavailable as a single man can get. Whether or not there’s a spark doesn’t make a bit of difference.”

“I beg to differ, big brother.” She takes another bite of her food and chews for a moment. Her attention moves to her husband before returning to me. “Has she told you about Creed?”

Aware that Embree hasn’t been honest with my sister regarding Creed’s situation, I have no choice but to play dumb. That she’s the only one at this table who doesn’t know the truth burns me up inside, but it’s not like I have a choice. Nodding, I tell her what Embree told me the first time we met.

“She said he’s FBI. That he’s been away for quite some time working a case.”

“I think there’s more to the story,” she says. The change in her tone and the sad look in her eyes confirm she knows more than I thought. “She and Nic had a fight recently. From what I heard, Nic helped Creed file for divorce before he left. She never said a word to me about it, but that no one’s seen him in all this time tells me that though they might be married on paper, things between them might be over. Plus, she’s so sad, Luc. She has been for a long time, even before he left. But for the first time in a long time, I saw a glimmer of the Emi I used to know that night when we walked in on the two of you having that moment. For once she looked happy.”

When she reaches across the table for me, I give her my hand. Then she says, “And so did you. While I may not know what true happiness looks like on you, that moment between the two of you is the only time since you’ve been back that you looked lighter. Brighter. Carefree. So what you said about that spark, big brother, couldn’t be more wrong. That spark could very well be the path to happiness for the both of you.”

I’m so taken aback by what she’s said, I swallow hard. My mouth falls open as everything in me wants to tell her she’s wrong. That there is no path to happiness that includes me. Not with anyone, but most especially not with Embree. I want to tell her all the ways that I’m broken. How I’m no longer emotionally equipped to handle life to the point that sometimes surviving from one moment to the next is a damn near impossible feat.

Adding the complication of taking care of someone else while I can barely care for myself is not only laughable, but heartbreakingly unimaginable. I want to toss my anguish and misery at her feet, so she stops pushing for things that cannot be, but I don’t. Because the look of hope in her eyes almost makes me want to believe she could be right.

If only I weren’t so jaded. If only the universe hadn’t beaten me down and taught me that hope is nothing more than a whimsical notion. Maybe then I could believe there is a path to happiness that’s meant for me. Especially if that path led to the only woman I’ll ever love.

“She’s married.” With my appetite long gone, I set down my fork and push my dish away. “But even if that weren’t the case, I’m not ready for anything more than friendship. After giving up so much of my life for my country, I need time to figure out what comes next. To determine who I am outside of a Navy SEAL.”

“I understand that, Lucas, but you’re here. Back in our lives. Back in hers. All I’m saying is don’t close yourself off to the possibility.”

“It’s already long closed, Jenny. She has a husband. They have two children together. Regardless of the state of their marriage, there’s a lot of baggage they have to sort through before she can even think about bringing someone else into their lives. Plus, I don’t mean to sound like an asshole, but that’s for them to resolve. It’s got nothing to do with me.”

“I just want you to be happy, Luc. And I want her to be happy too. What if your coming back now is part of the universe’s plan? What if it’s fate and the two of you are meant to be?”

At this, I scoff. My disdain for the universe and its plans churns in my gut like poison until I can no longer hold it in. “You mean the same universe that took our parents and left us orphans? The same universe that allows human beings to torture, maim, and kill one another in the name of their god, or because of greed. That’s what you’re telling me to trust in? That’s what you want me to believe in? Fuck that. Far as I’m concerned, fate and the goddamn universe can take their fucking plans and go fuck themselves.”

“Watch yourself, Holt,” Ben growls. The stern warning is like a bucket of ice water.

Ashamed, I close my eyes and take a deep breath. None of what I’ve been through in my life is Jenny’s fault. Nor has she been privy to the darkness and the chaos that consumes so much of humanity. I left her behind all those years ago to ensure she had a loving home. I enlisted in the military so I could defend our country and its interests in other parts of the world. I did all those things so she and the citizens of our great nation could have a life free from the ugly truths I’ve seen. That she still romanticizes this life is something to be cherished, not extinguished by a broken, jaded man like me.

“I’m sorry. I was out of line.” Reaching for the cloth napkin, I wipe my mouth before setting it down beside my plate. “I love you, and I love that you want what’s best for me.” When my voice thickens, I take a moment to clear my throat before continuing. “Believe me, I need more of that in my life, so don’t let my reaction tonight deter you from pushing me toward a little more happiness. I just ask for a little patience.”

“Always, big brother. Always.”

Feeling like I’ve ruined dinner, I stand. Avoiding her tear-filled gaze, I take the coward’s way out and focus on her husband instead.

“I have to go. When I get back to the Inn, I’ll call my contacts to make sure they got my messages. I’ll be in the office first thing tomorrow.” Then, walking around the table, I lean down to kiss my sister on the head before telling her, “Thank you for dinner. I look forward to doing it again next week.”

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Author's Note:

Creed's Alive!!! But we'll get back to that in a second.
 First I want to talk about Lucas and how hard he's trying to reconnect with his old life. He might be mad at Ben, but let's be honest, the progress he's making and the time he's spent thus far with Embree and his sister would never have been possible if not for Ben's ultimatum.

Now back to Creed. He's alive you guys! And I can't wait to see where the story goes next.

So what do you think of this chapter? Do you think Ben's apology to Lucas is genuine? And what do you think is going on with Creed? I can't wait to read your comments!

NEW CHAPTERS post at 7:00 PM EST on Tuesdays & Fridays!!!

For updates on this and future stories, remember to follow me.

Chapter 21

Emilia

I’m on pins and needles as I pull into the parking lot of Rosie’s Diner. The cryptic 5 a.m. text from Jen instantly set me on edge. Not only would she never reach out at that early hour, she would never take time away from the bakery to meet for breakfast on a Monday morning. The more likely explanation is that I’m here at Ben’s request, probably for something related to their investigation into Creed.

While I know I’m the one who asked for their help, I didn’t consider how knowing the truth might change things. As up in the air as my life has been, I’ve built up a sense of security amidst the chaos. Like being caught in the eye of a storm, except I allowed myself to grow complacent in the lull. Now I’m terrified that today may be the day it all comes crashing down around me.

Entering the diner, I’m greeted by the early morning sounds and smells of the busy kitchen. The dining room is packed with Ruby Creek residents and a few other unfamiliar faces. My Aunt and uncle first opened this diner 25 years ago, and since then it’s become a well-known icon that pulls tourists from the ski towns around us.

What makes it special, aside from the food, is the feel. Walking through the door, it’s like you’re transported back in time to another era. Despite my aunt’s modernization of the decor, the black & white checkerboard tile, bright red stools, and paraphernalia from the 50s help make the illusion complete. Add the old-style jukebox and the 1950s waitress uniforms and it feels as though you’ve stepped through a time portal.

When I see Aunt Rosie, she gives me a friendly smile, and with a slight nod, she points me toward the private room in the back. Again, the butterflies in my belly rally. Knowing what’s waiting for me in that room has me second-guessing if I’m doing the right thing.

For three years I’ve been stuck, holding onto a past that’s long gone, while barely existing in a present where I’m unable to move forward. The reality is I have no choice but to do this. For the sake of my girls, who will soon notice the gaping holes that exist in our lives, I have to know what happened to their father.

With newfound resolve, I take that first step. Walking through the diner, I push away the fear and try to focus on what must be done. When I get to the back room, I take a deep breath at the threshold before turning the door handle and making my way inside.

The private space is quite large, with a capacity to seat groups of up to 40 guests, and it looks even bigger, with only two people waiting inside. When Ben and Lucas see me approach, they stop their conversation. The look on their faces makes me pause, and it’s Lucas who stands to come toward me. Dropping a kiss on the top of my head, he then guides me to take the seat next to him. The tension that coils around us confirms I will not be walking out of this room the same person I was when I came in.

“Thank you for meeting us,” Ben begins. At the sound of his formal tone, the pressure in my chest intensifies, and I feel like I’m going to be sick. “I’m sorry for making it seem like it was Jen who you were meeting with. Given the concerns over the FBI’s involvement, we thought this was the safest way.”

“I figured; I know how busy Mondays are for the bakery.”

“I wish there was a way to soften this for you, but unfortunately, what we’ve discovered is time-sensitive and requires hard decisions be made. First, I want to assure you we are experts in this type of thing. We know what needs to happen and how to best proceed. What we need is for you to trust us and allow us to do what needs to be done to keep your family safe.”

Keep us safe? From what?

“Um, you’re scaring me, Ben.”

“I know, I’m sorry. But I won’t lie to you, Emilia. The little we know so far is concerning. It’s imperative you give us the okay to implement our plan. The first order of business is to make sure you and the girls aren’t in any danger.”

“Danger?” I ask incredulously, the shake in my voice matching the tremble in my hands.

“We’re not saying that you are in immediate danger,” Lucas responds, as he lays a comforting hand over mine. “What we’re asking is for permission to watch over you and the girls while we make certain there’s no threat.” When I don’t respond, in a firm tone, he commands, “We need the words, Embree. Give us the okay and we’ll take it from there.”

“Yes. Okay. Jesus, just tell me what’s going on,” I comply. Glancing between them in desperation, I catch when Ben gives Lucas the okay to proceed.

“Through my contacts, we’ve been able to confirm your husband is alive.” Opening the folder in front of him, Lucas grabs a black-and-white photograph, which he then slides in my direction.

The picture is grainy and looks to be from a security camera, but when I scan down and see his familiar face, I gasp. Tears sting behind my eyes, blurring the unmistakable image of Creed. Though his face is obscured by a dark hood and thick beard, there’s no question the man in the picture is my husband.

“Where?” Is the only word that escapes from my lips. All others are barricaded behind the stranglehold of emotions that swirl within me.

“That picture was taken about a month ago in Cartagena, Columbia,” Lucas responds.

“So, he’s there? Working for the FBI?” I ask, my confusion somehow delaying the shock I’m sure I’ll feel later. Right now, it’s taking all my energy to keep it together, especially as I furiously wipe away the silent tears I can’t seem to hold back.

“We’re not sure what’s going on yet.” He pauses, his posture shifts uncomfortably before he says, “Emilia…”

“No! Don’t you dare Emilia me now, Lucas James Holt! You’ve never called me that, so don’t you dare start now.”

I don’t mean to take my anger out on him, but at this point, I’m nothing but a ball of pent-up frustration. It’s like all the uncertainty and struggle of the past three years has culminated into a toxic rage that now consumes me. All made worse because none of what they’re saying makes any sense.

“Embree…” He sighs and his face contorts in what looks like regret. “Creed has been classified as a rogue operative. The United States, in partnership with the Colombian government, are working together to find and apprehend him.”

“No! That’s not right. That can’t be right.” Unable to believe what they’re saying, I look between them, hoping one of them will shed some light on what is happening.

“We don’t have all the details yet,” Ben responds in a gentle tone. “But we’re working on it. What we know for sure is that the FBI lied to you. Creed’s not missing, at least not in the way they told you.”

“There’s more.” Lucas pulls my attention back to him. “What they said when they first talked to you two years ago set off some red flags for me. On a hunch, I had one of my contacts check for surveillance requests submitted by the justice department, and indeed several have been granted. You’ve been under surveillance by the FBI, going on almost two years now.”

“What? Why?” My voice falters as my mind thinks back to the times I’ve felt as though someone was watching. The latest was only two days ago on the jogging trail, when I broke into a panicked run back towards the house after I heard what sounded like someone chasing after me. When I reached my street and finally looked back, the man clothed in running attire continued down the trail without giving me a second glance. I thought it was all in my head, but now…

“I think someone’s been following me.” I gasp. “Oh god.” Coming to a stand, my mind shifts to the girls as I remember this morning. How as I walked Mallory into daycare, I felt that same awareness. The prickling sensation at the back of my neck. “The girls. I think they’re watching me with the girls….”

“Shh, it’s okay.” Ben stands, reaching across the table between us to squeeze my arm and set me at ease. “I’ve got the guys watching them as we speak. The girls are safe.”

“I thought I was going crazy. That it was all in my head.” I blurt. A part of me is relieved the paranoia I’ve felt is real, while another part is terrified of what this means.

“When did you first notice someone watching?” Ben asks.

“A couple of months. I think the first time was around Mallory’s birthday, so maybe mid-March.”

“Anything before that?”

I think for a moment before answering, “I don’t know. I don’t think so. But I can’t be sure.”

“Can we have Owen do a full sweep of her place?” Lucas’s voice comes from where he still sits, his brows pulled together in a deep frown. “At least to get an idea of where we need to be careful?”

As Ben thinks, he signals for me to take my seat again, which I’m happy to oblige. My entire body is shaking, likely from the shock that’s finally setting in.

“We could, but we have to be careful not to tip them off. The last thing we need is for them to know we’re digging. She has to go on about her life like always. No changes, same routine.”

“Wait, hold on? Why can’t we just go to them and tell them I’ll cooperate? Creed isn’t who they think he is. There’s no way he would turn against the agency. There must be another explanation. Maybe I can convince them.”

“No.” Lucas interrupts, his eyes never leaving the papers in front of him.

“Why?” I beg, needing to understand why the path of least resistance won’t work.

“Because right now we don’t know who we can trust.”

He slams the folder shut, but not before pulling out what looks to be an official court order, which he sets in front of me. My eyes go wide as I read what’s being alleged is my involvement in helping Creed evade federal authorities.

“They’re implicating you, Embree. According to my contacts, to get a judge to sign off on something like this, they must provide solid evidence linking you to a crime. You can’t go to the FBI for help, because as of now, they consider you an accomplice.”

“But I’ve done nothing wrong? I haven’t spoken to Creed and, until today, had no idea where he was or what was happening with him. That must be easy to prove, right? They just have to look.”

“Which is all the more reason we can’t trust them, Emb.” Turning to face me, he reaches for my clasped hands. “Look, I find it impossible to believe they have any evidence linking you to the crimes they allege Creed committed. Someone in the FBI, or higher ranks of the Justice Department, is working hard to control the narrative around your husband’s situation or the case he was working on. They’re either falsifying evidence or paying off a federal judge, which they’ll make impossible to prove. Either way, someone’s playing dirty in a game we’re not equipped to win. We have to play this smart. Bide our time. See what’s what, before we decide what to do next. It’s the only way, sweetheart.”

“How…” My voice breaks, as fear wins out over all other emotions. The impossibility of the situation leaves me desperate for some sort of peaceful resolution. A plan or some way that will guarantee everything will turn out okay. “How am I supposed to carry on like I don’t know what’s happening?”

This time Lucas reaches for my face. “Embree. This is the part where you have to trust we’ll do whatever it takes to keep you and the girls safe. Leave it to us, Emb, trust us to guide you and we’ll see you safely through to the other side.”

As he wipes the trail of tears from my face, I nod. Choosing to trust them not because I believe in them, but because I’m too overwhelmed and exhausted to do otherwise.

“Good. Now, with your help, Ben and I are going to work through a plan. We’re your team, all of us, with the goal of getting you and your family out of this mess. You don’t have to go at this alone anymore.”

For the next hour, I listen as the two men talk, responding with quick yes or no answers to the questions they ask. All the while, my resentment towards Creed builds. The hatred I feel for this situation is like lava, boiling and sputtering toxic fumes toward the surface. At this moment, I’ve never hated my husband more. The same man I’ve sworn my love and loyalty to. He made vows and promised to take care of and protect the family we created, so how could he have brought this nightmare to our doorstep?

Not only does it look like he abandoned us, but he left me and the girls to fend for ourselves against the FBI. And though it makes little sense that he’d betray the job he dedicated his life to, it doesn’t change the fact he didn’t warn me. That he hasn’t reached out to, at the very least, tell me he’s alive and doing okay.

“Embree?” Lucas’s voice cuts into my thoughts. “What’s happening?” Of course, he can tell something is wrong. He and Jen are the only two people I’ve never been able to hide from.

“I hate him.” Though I say it with conviction, the sob that escapes shows the actual truth. “I hate him for doing this to us, and I hate him for abandoning us.” I bow my head, attempting to hide my pain. “How could I still love someone who I hate with every fiber of my being?” I look up, searching for the answers in his sea-green eyes and instead, what I find is disapproval.

“I don’t know.” He answers in a clipped tone, and then he’s gone.

His departure as the door slams behind him is like a vacuum that sucks the air out straight from my lungs. As if his presence was the only thing keeping me together, I collapse onto the table. My face buried in my hands as sobs of betrayal rip through me. He walked out on me. Just like Creed. Of course, he did, because this is what they do.

“Shhh. Come here.”

Ben comes around to sit beside me, his burly arms pull me in until I’m weeping into his chest. The ugly tears I’m crying all over my best friend’s husband should embarrass me. I should be ashamed for letting them see how weak I am, but I’m not, because to be ashamed would require the strength to care.

“You’re going to be okay, Emi. Lucas and I will sort this out, and we’ll help set things right again.”

“He won’t stay,” I say, immediately understanding that the tears I’m crying aren’t just for Creed.

“Hey,” Ben pulls away, “If that’s what you’re worried about, rest assured he will. He signed a one-year contract with OTS, and he did it to help you. He’s not leaving until you’re safe.”

Shaking off his embrace, I stand. With the meeting seemingly over, I grab my purse and then angrily wipe away the remaining tears. Determined to rid myself of the stupid hopes of the 16-year-old girl inside me, I utter the harsh truth. “He won’t stay. No matter what he promised… they never do.”

“Emilia…”

“Don’t. I don’t need your pity,” I say over my shoulder as I reach the door.

“It’s not pity, it’s truth. You have no idea why that man walked out of here just now, do you?” he scoffs. “No, of course, you don’t. Because all you see is the past and what’s been done to you. But you know what? From the outside looking in, I see I man who is still very much in love with you. So much so that he’s moving heaven and earth, calling in every favor he has, to find Creed and bring him home to you. That just now, was him realizing that everything he’s doing is so you can go back to the man you married. A man who isn’t him. He walked out because hearing you say you love your husband was too much reality for him to hear.”

“You’re wrong,” I declare.

“Emilia, do me a favor. As his best friend, I’m begging you to be careful. Life has not been kind to him, and he’s suffered through things that I would have deemed unimaginable until I read them with my own eyes. Please don’t hurt him. Don’t toy with his feelings or string him along into a situation he can’t win, because honestly, I don’t know if he can survive yet another loss.”

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Author's Note: 

Can you imagine what Emilia must be going through?
 Getting the news that your missing husband is alive is bad enough, but then to hear that the FBI has you under surveillance for crimes your husband may have committed. My gosh. It's no wonder she reacted with such anger toward Ben and Lucas.

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Chapter 22

Lucas

She loves him. Of course, she fucking loves him. It makes perfect sense, given he is her husband. So why did hearing her say the words leave me so damn gutted? It’s like somewhere along the way I forgot he was a living, breathing man.

Not just an idea.

Not just a picture hanging in a collage, on a blue wall inside her house.

Somehow, in my quest to be her savior, I missed the reality of the situation and only saw “her” .

Helping “ her“ .

Being there for “ her“ .

Saving “ her“ from the pain that was tainting “ her“ .

It escaped me that the best-case scenario would reunite them, so they could go on to live out their happily ever after. When I agreed to do this, how is it I didn’t see what it would mean? How did I not take into account how badly it would hurt?

From my truck, I watch her walk out of the diner. The red rim around her eyes accentuates the depths of her heartbreak and makes my chest ache. Rubbing at the spot, I allow anger to take root. Though I know the pain I’m experiencing is my fault, it’s so much easier to blame the asshole who abandoned them. The bastard who left them swinging in the wind like collateral damage, as if they were insignificant. What kind of man would do that to his family?

“Can you truly judge him when you did the same damn thing?” screams the voice inside my head.

The answer is a resounding YES! I can fucking judge him because I was a broken kid when I left, while HE was a grown man. If I had everything Creed had, I would never walk away. Never in a million years would I choose anything in this life over them. The dossier I received from my contacts stated he volunteered for the assignment. He willingly left his family to walk straight into the mess he’s in. The question is, why did he do it?

From the outside looking in, he left to infiltrate and take down a network of the vilest criminals ever created. But from the inside, that dossier paints him as the villain. A man no better than the scum they tasked him with bringing to justice. Plus, the way he filed for divorce just before he disappeared points to him being as guilty as they say. What I read paints him as a man motivated by greed. By power. By vengeance.

Startled by the hard knock at the passenger window, I growl, “What the fuck?” Unlocking the door so the asshole can get in, I shoot him a furious glare.

“My bad. Did I scare you, princess?” He beams a grin in my direction as he buckles himself in. “Now, care to explain what that tantrum was about? Do you have any idea how awkward that was for me?” Though he sounds aggrieved, the smirk on his face tells a different story.

“I needed some air.” I shrug, masking my emotions behind a wall of indifference.

“Seriously? You…you needed some air.” I turn to glare at him, hoping the angry scowl is enough to deter him from continuing. The problem is, this is Ben we’re talking about. His ability to read social cues is nonexistent. “They’re married, jackass. They have an entire life together and two kids to prove it. What exactly did you expect?”

Ignoring him, I turn on the ignition. Why the hell did I agree to let Captain Obvious ride with me this morning?

“Lucas, level with me for a second. You’re in love with her, right? Let’s at least get it out in the open so we can find a way to get you past it.”

“There’s nothing to get past.”

“Are you in love with her or not?” he demands.

“What is it you want me to say? We were kids. She was my first love. And the way things ended …” I shake my head, thinking back to that shitty week my parents died. “It was fucked. You never get over something like that. But am I in love with her now? No, probably not.”

“Bullshit, but whatever. Be a coward and lie to yourself if it helps you sleep at night,” he scoffs, which pisses me off.

“Why are we even having this conversation? What the fuck does it matter if I love her? It changes nothing.”

“Ahh, so you are in love with her. Great, so now that you so ineloquently admitted it, what is it you’re planning to do about it?”

“What?” I take my eyes off the road for a moment to look over at him.

“What’s your plan? Is it to get the girl? Is that why you were so willing to stay in town? Why you agreed to take on this case?”

“Are you serious right now?” I erupt, slamming my fist on the steering wheel. “I stayed because you forced my hand, dickhead. Because you blackmailed me and refused to help unless I gave you a year of my fucking life!”

“Oh, don’t play the victim here, asshole. I gave you a choice. You could have walked away. Gotten on with your life, but no, you chose to stay because you wanted to help her. So I’ll ask again, is it because you want the girl?”

Fury flows through my veins, as the memory of how he threatened not to help replays in my mind.

“First of all, I planned to help her regardless. Something I could have done from the road. It was you who made helping a condition of my staying here. Second, it pisses me off you see me as some home-wrecking asshole. I’m not here to get the girl, because she’s not mine to get. She belongs to him, and as you heard, it’s him she loves.” Though I aim to sound resolute, the words taste bitter on my tongue.

“Sure. If you say so.” To my relief, he goes quiet. Unfortunately, his silence is short-lived. “You know what I don’t get? You’ve been back for what, two weeks?”

“Sixteen days,” slips through my lips, before I have the chance to stop myself.

“Hmm,” his head cocks to the side. “Sixteen days ago, you came into town with no desire to connect with the girls. No interest in checking in to make sure they were okay, yet here you are, a little over two weeks later, so eager to help.”

“What the hell’s your point?”

“Nothing. I guess I’m just trying to understand the change of heart. After what happened back there, it’s clearly not because you want to save her marriage. And if it’s not to gain her affection, then what the heck is the point?”

That’s the million-dollar question. The one I’ve been asking myself repeatedly since returning to this town.

“I’m doing it because I owe her. Because I want her to be happy.”

His eyebrows draw together. “What is it you think you owe her for?”

“For what I did. After the way I left and never reached out, helping her is the least I can do. I’m trying to make things right.”

“Don’t bullshit a bullshitter. You’re not doing it for her, you’re doing it to clear your conscience, let’s at least be honest about that. But then what? You stay in town, you help put her family back together, and then? Where do you go from there?”

“You forced a year of service out of me, and as soon as that’s done, I’m gone. I’ll get back on the road and get on with my life.”

“So your big plan is still to leave? God, you’re such a fucking coward. You know what? Stop the damn car!”

“What?” I say confused, yet doing as he says and pulling over onto the shoulder of the two-lane road. He opens the door, and with his cell phone in hand, steps out of my truck.

Angrier than I’ve ever seen him, he points at me. “Do me a favor, Luc. Before you leave, stop by the bakery and say goodbye to your sister this time, will ya?”

“What the fuck are you doing?”

“I’m walking the rest of the way. Don’t worry about the contract with OTS. I’m tearing that shit up as soon as I get back to the office. As far as I’m concerned, we’re done.” He turns and walks away.

And then something in me snaps. Tearing out of my truck, I rush at him. Our bodies slam together, the force catapulting us to the ground, where we land with a hard thud. Our limbs swing wildly, both of us striking defensively like neither of us wants to hurt the other.

“What the fuck is your problem? I agreed to stay, you fucking bastard. And you promised to help me help her.”

“Get the fuck off me.” His fist connects with my jaw, throwing off my momentum and suddenly I’m on my back. I see stars in my periphery, and as I rub my aching jaw, I watch him come to a stand. “My problem is that you haven’t learned. That after all this time you still don’t see. Why try to fix things with her and Jen if you’re unwilling to give us a fair shot? What’s the point if you’re unwilling to give building a life here with them a real chance? You might as well leave right fucking now. Before they get attached. Before they get used to leaning on you. Leave now and spare them the heartache of losing you all over again. I give you my word. I’ll help Emilia, regardless. So there. There’s no longer a reason for you to stay.”

His words hit me square in the heart because he’s right. I haven’t learned. You’d think by now I’d have come to terms with the fact that regardless of my intentions, everything I touch turns to crap.

“You know what? Fuck this.” I say as I sit up, still rubbing my jaw. “I’m out of here.” Standing, I reach down to pick up my phone from where it fell on the ground, and then without a second glance, I walk back to the truck.

This is for the best.

How it was meant to be.

Staying was never part of the plan.

So why is it suddenly hard to breathe?

By the time I’m to the door, my breath is coming out in huffs. The pressure in my chest is so tight I’ve reached the point I have to stop. Trying to get control of my breathing is futile, especially when a thick wave of emotion crashes down around me. As a wave of dizziness hits, I collapse forward against the truck and heave out a sob.

What the hell is wrong with me?

This is my out. My chance to get the hell out of this town and away from the ghosts of my past. This is what I wanted. What I swore I needed all along, so why does walking away hurt so damn much?

Because you want them.

Because you need them.

Because you can’t fathom going back to the miserable life you left behind on that mountain.

Swallowing down my newfound realization, I take several deep breaths. When my heart finally slows and I’m no longer on the edge, I run a hand over my face and then turn around to face Ben. With a scowl on his face, he stands where I left him.

Filled with shame and regret, I bow my head, hoping it’s enough to hide the tears running down my face. “I’m not ready,” I choke out. Chancing a look at my oldest friend, I opt to lay it all out. It’s an act that shocks me as much as it does him, but it feels right. “I just got back…” my voice cracks.

As the tightness in my chest flares in warning I push forward, not caring one bit about the consequences. This right here—my family, my friends, this life—it’s too important. “I don’t know what’s right for me anymore, but I do know that when and if I leave this place, I don’t want to go back to the life I had before.” I shake my head, adamant that I’ll never live like that again. “This, it’s all I have left. You were right that night at the bar. I have nothing to go back to. Just this empty void that’s been slowly smothering my will to fight. To thrive.”

Looking up at the sky, I close my eyes. Memories of those lonely nights, of the empty darkness that consumed my days before coming here, pummel me until I’m nothing but a battered shell of a desperate man. How did it take this moment for me to see the opportunity that’s been handed to me? The gift of a second chance few ever get. Including the families of my fallen brothers, who would give anything to see their loved ones again. And here I was, seconds from throwing something so precious away.

But is it too late?

Opening my eyes, I look at Ben and for the first time, I see everything he’s tried to do for me. This was his plan all along. His goal wasn’t to trap me, but to bring me back into the fold. To prove to me that there was still a place for me not just in their lives, but in this town. Reeling from the revelation, I let him see my apology. My regret. With tears in my eyes, I’m prepared to beg.

“I want to try. I can’t say that I’ll know how I’ll feel at the end of the year, but more than anything, I want to try.”

“Emilia doesn’t believe in you, you know. She’s certain she can’t count on you.” It’s not what I expected him to say, and hearing it is like a punch to the gut. “I told her she could. Promised her you were in this 100%. Did I lie to her, Lucas?”

“No.” I don’t think twice as I square my shoulders, determined to show I’m ready to stand behind my words. “No, you didn’t lie. I’m in. All the way. Not just for the case, but for our family. I swear to fucking Christ I’m in. I just need a chance to prove it.” My voice cracks towards the end, but I couldn’t give a damn because I’m desperate. Desperate to get off the ledge of this proverbial cliff of desolation.

Coming toward me, he reaches out to shake my hand. With a nod, he says, “Good. I’m holding you to it. But I’m warning you, fuck this up and you’re done. That’s a threat and a goddamn promise.”

After a heavy sigh, I look him straight in the eye. “I swear. I’ll do my best.”

“So to be clear. You’ll take the year to try, and I mean really try, to build a life here?”

“Affirmative.”

“Good.” He pats me on the shoulder. “Then I’d say my work here is done, wouldn’t you agree bestie?” he smirks, his hands at his waist as he nods enthusiastically.

In that split second, I’m annoyed.

“Get in the truck, dumbass,” I tell him, before turning around and getting in. “We got work to do.”

As I pull us back onto the road, that’s when it hits me. It was a ruse. His way of turning the tables so my staying in this town would be my choice. That he manipulated me should make me angry, but what I feel is relief. He might have forced me to this point, but deep down, I had no desire to go back to living a life where I was barely existing.

“I’ve been thinking about Creed,” I interrupt the silence, bringing us back to the issue at hand. “Trying to figure out what motivated him to volunteer for the assignment. His filing for divorce ahead of his departure, in addition to what was on that dossier, none of it paints him in a good light. Having known him, think he’s capable of what they say?”

“No way. Creed is the last person in the world I’d suspect of getting in with sex traffickers. You saw the story about his sister, right? Read the reports of all the good he’s done on behalf of the FBI. All those men, women, and children he’s saved, all the cold cases he’s solved. Look beyond that dossier and focus on his service record. It’s the only way to make a fair assessment because the discrepancy between the two makes it clear something isn’t right.”

“You’re thinking it’s a setup?”

“It’s the most likely scenario and would explain how they’ve handled Emilia.”

“Christ.” I sigh. “You get if that’s true, he might never get free from this.”

“I know. Do you think Emilia’s safe for now? Would the agency use her or the girls to get Creed’s attention?”

“Can’t say for sure, but in my experience, when it comes to matters of national security, nothing’s off the table. Right now, someone’s done their damnest to make it look like he’s a threat. Even worse, they’ve implicated Embree.”

My entire career, I’ve had a front seat to the show of force that is the United States of America. It’s a country I love and was proud to serve, but even I can admit there were times I questioned whose side we were really on. In the end, I followed every order because I believed that whatever we were asked to do was for the greater good of the country I love. But looking at this situation, I’m on edge. Hyperaware that if there are bad players using the U.S. government to further their agenda, we could end up in a fight we’re not equipped to win.

“We must be super careful, and it starts with finding all those bugs. We need to sweep her place. Identify where they have eyes and ears. It’s the only way to pre-empt anything they might try. We also need to coach her on what to do. What to say or not say, and we need to help her move forward as if nothing is wrong. We can’t leave anything to chance. She’s a civilian. An innocent, and completely unaware of what she’s up against.”

“Understood. I’ll get Owen on it and we’ll go from there.”

“I need eyes on her and the girls at all times, Ben. I need to be able to pull them up and see where they are always. Get him to tap into the security feed at that daycare and the school. As for Emilia, we need a tracker on her. Something we can use to find her in the event they move in on her.”

“Okay…” he eyes me curiously. “I can see the surveillance on the girls, but a tracker? Don’t you think that’s a bit over the top? And you’re smiling, why the fuck are you smiling like that?” He asks perplexed, feigning deep worry like the drama queen he is.

“Because I know a guy and the asshole owes me a favor,” I smirk. “Fucking congressman. He hired my team to do an off-the-books operation to save his daughter from some cult a few years back. The kid had a tracker embedded in a piece of jewelry. It’s how he knew where to find her.”

“Fuck dude, someday we need to swap war stories.”

“Sorry man. Most are classified, but I’m happy to share what I can. Tell you all about the asshole senators and congressmen who treat their friends in the arm forces like their personal mercenaries. You’d be shocked to hear how some of those assholes game the system.”

“Hot damn, that’s what I’m talking about. By the way, can we stop sidelining Nero? Not to hurt your feelings, but he’s one of the reasons I was so eager to bring you on. I’d like to see how we can fit him into the business.”

“He’s not a mascot, Ben. He’s a combat assault dog.”

“Exactly. It’s why I think he’ll fit in perfectly. Look, it’s no secret dogs can do things humans can’t. There are lots of jobs where we could use a dog like him. Plus, you’ve said it yourself. He needs to work. It’s what he wants and what he was bred to do. Who knows, if it works out, maybe we can adopt another one.”

“I don’t know, Ben. When these dogs come out, they don’t always acclimate to civilian life. I got lucky with Nero, but I think it’s because he knew me from before. Back when we were fast-roping out of birds and shooting at bad guys. Him working amongst civilians? I don’t know how that will work. Rules of engagement are different, and I’m not sure it’s fair to put him in a position where he might fail.”

“Look, from what I’ve seen, you trust him and he trusts you. All I’m saying is bring him around the family. Let him come to the office so he can get to know the guys. Bring him to Rosie’s Diner when we meet there. Basically, take him wherever you go. Over time, we’ll see how he takes to working amongst civilians. If it all works out the way I think it will, we can look into jobs where the two of you can work together on behalf of a client. For now, let’s just see how he does.”

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Author's Note: 

See what Ben did there?
 The man is like a puppet master when it comes to pushing Lucas beyond the misconceptions that hold him back.

Tell me what you think of this chapter. How do you feel about the way Ben handled Lucas?

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Chapter 23

Emilia

He’s alive!

Where do I even begin to process what this means? That he never reached out to let me know he was okay or to warn me of the hell that might rain down on me? It’s enough to make me question if I really ever knew the man I married.

But then again, didn’t he try to warn me? That day, three years ago, when he tore my world apart by declaring he was done with our life and our marriage. How is this possible when I was so sure that behind his ugly words, I knew the kind of man he was? The dedicated FBI agent who’d do anything for the cause, including giving us up so he could go all in on his quest to make the world a safer place. How could I’ve gotten it so wrong?

Racing to my car, I jump into the driver’s seat in time to let the tears fall. I can’t believe this. None of what was said in that room makes any sense. For starters, Creed would never, ever betray the agency he’s dedicated his life to. He’d never go against his principles, especially when it comes to this. Human trafficking? Never would he get involved with that type of organization, not after what they did to his sister and not after dedicating his entire career to her memory. Why the hell would the FBI think otherwise, especially after everything he’s done? After everything, he’s sacrificed.

And that I’m under some type of surveillance is even more insane, given I’ve had no contact with him since he disappeared. If they are listening and keeping tabs on me, shouldn’t they know that? Shouldn’t they see what a mess I’ve been since this all began?

And how the hell am I supposed to act normal? Knowing what I know, how am I supposed to just go on with my life as if everything I thought I knew about the man I married, about the federal agency he served, hell, about my family’s safety and security is no longer as it once appeared?

“What am I going to do?” I sob out the words between painful breaths. “What the hell am I supposed to do?”

“Trust us.” It’s what Lucas said I needed to do, but that’s just it. I have trusted. In my husband. In the FBI. At one time even in Lucas, and time and time again I’ve learned that my blind trust is never reciprocated. Demonstrated once again when Lucas walked out on me when I needed him just now. And that Ben doesn’t see the flight risk Lucas is, doesn’t bode well for my trust in him either.

No.

There is no trust to be found.

Not in these men. Not when it comes to my family’s safety or my freedom. The only person I should count on to get me through this is me.

Not caring that I’m crying, I reach for my phone to call the last person I thought I would need. While she may have betrayed me, she is the only person I know with the legal knowledge to guide me through what I need to do next.

“Nic,” her name comes out sounding more like a whimper as I fight through the overwhelming fear. “I-I need to see you.”

“Emi, what’s wrong? Are you all right?”

“No. Something’s happened. Can I come over?” I answer between sobs.

“Gosh, Em. Yes! Of course, anything. I was on my way to the office, but I’ll turn around and meet you there. Give me ten minutes.”

Hanging up, I set my phone on the passenger seat. With adrenaline coursing through me, I’m shaking all over. That’s why it takes a few tries to get the key into the ignition and get the car going. Wasting no time, I back out of the parking space. I need to get as far away from this place as I can, so I gun the accelerator, entering the intersection without giving incoming traffic a second thought.

By the grace of God, I make it onto Main Street safely, while chastising myself for being so damn naïve. If what Ben and Lucas say is true, how did I miss all the signs? Why didn’t I push the FBI harder and demand the hard answers? Maybe if I had, I wouldn’t be considered an accomplice to whatever my husband’s involved in. Creed is alive and all indications point to him abandoning our family without so much as a backward glance. Just as he tried to tell me, it shows he no longer cares. Why the hell didn’t I listen?

When I pull into her driveway, Nic’s waiting by the front door of the modern carriage home she had custom-built when she returned to Ruby Creek two years ago. The combination of white siding, stonework, and black trim accents around the windows stands out against the other homes in the area but fits Nic’s sophisticated style. Even with the worried expression and her hesitant posture, my friend is the very definition of beautiful and elegant. With her black, peak collared belted blazer, white v-neck blouse, black split hem trousers, and black stiletto pumps, she is by far the best-dressed resident of Ruby Creek.

Wiping the moisture from under my eyes one last time, I grab my purse and step out of the car. Locking it up, I walk up her driveway with eyes cast down. I’m afraid to look at her not only because of what happened between us the last time we met but because by being here, I’m acknowledging that she and Creed were right. I should have signed those papers and let him go when he asked for the divorce. Plus, I hurt her. The way I reacted when it all came to light, I shouldn’t have blamed her. I directed my anger in her direction even as, deep down, I understood why she helped Creed.

But all my worry and anxiety is for nothing, for when I make it to her, we end up wrapped in each other’s arms. It’s unexpected. And the betrayal that’s been a constant companion since the girl’s night incident two weeks ago fades away in an instant. I’m so grateful for her. For all my friends. Their support and unconditional love have been instrumental in the years since Dad’s passing. Without Nic, Jen, and Hannah, I don’t know where I would be.

“I’m so sorry,” I sob over her shoulder. “I should have trusted you. Believed in our friendship. I was so wrong.”

“Hey. It’s all right. I’m sorry too. I should have told you. As soon as he came to me, I should have reached out to tell you what he was asking of me.” Pulling away after a few breaths, she takes my hand and tells me. “Come on. I have coffee and pastries from T&J Sweets waiting upstairs.”

Still wallowing in misery, I follow her up the entryway steps to the second-story living space where we come to an open floor plan. Nic’s personality shines through in the modern elements and simple functionality that mixes beautifully with the neutral tones of the furniture and the colorful artwork on the walls.

Now that I’m here, the reality of what I have to tell her sends my anxiety into overdrive. I need help. Desperately. And I’m hoping she holds the key to ensuring my safety and that of my daughters.

“What’s happened, Emi?” she asks as she sets down two coffee mugs next to the small tray of pastries in front of us.

“I’m in trouble,” I tell her, as we both take a seat at the round dining table just outside the kitchen area. Setting my purse by my feet, I reach up to wipe away yet another trail of tears. Taking the hot mug into my hands, I welcome the hint of pain on my skin from the heat. In a world that’s so damn lonely and cold, the burning sensation is a welcomed relief.

“Tell me. What’s happened?”

“I need advice. Something awful is happening and I don’t know what to do or who to trust. I’m scared. So damn scared. After the way I treated you, I know I don’t deserve your help, but I’m asking anyway because you’re the only one I know I can trust. Please help me, Nic. Please…” I blurt the words, my voice laced with desperation as my composure breaks.

“Hey…” She leans forward, taking one of my hands and squeezing it gently. “What happened between us changes nothing. It was a minor disagreement between sisters. We’re family Emilia, whatever you need, know that I’m here.”

She doesn’t have to tell me twice. In a rush, I dive into the mess that is my life. Sharing with her everything that’s happened, from the moment Creed first served me with divorce papers, to the conversation with Ben and Lucas this morning. At some point, Nic gets up to retrieve her laptop so she can take notes. By the time I’m finished, her brow is furrowed. Worry lines mar the corners of her eyes. As for me, I’m spent. The adrenaline rush having abated has left me depleted.

“Ben says I can’t go to the FBI to explain. According to him, I’m supposed to go on with my life like I’m oblivious to the fact I’m implicated in federal crimes, or that my missing husband is alive and considered a traitor to his country. How am I supposed to do that? How do I carry on like I’m fine when the walls are closing in on me?”

“I get it. I do. But as much as it pains me to say, I think my brother is right. At this point, any move you make will be under scrutiny and up for interpretation by the powers that be. Whoever is behind this, their first goal will be to discredit you. Their second, to use what you say or do to manipulate it into evidence that corroborates their charges.”

“But that’s just it, Nic. I’ve done nothing wrong. Why can’t I go to the FBI to explain? Why can’t I throw myself at their mercy and ask them to really look at what’s happened, so they can clear me?”

“Because if Ben is right, and there are bad players involved, nothing you say or do will help. Instead, they will twist your words, then turn around and use them against you. Plus, if you go to the FBI, my brother, his team, Lucas, and anyone involved in the disclosure of this information would likely face federal charges and jail time.”

“But I’m innocent. So are they. Their only crime is trying to help me. Once they investigate, they’ll see we’ve done nothing wrong.”

“It doesn’t matter, Emilia. When it comes to corrupt, powerful people, it’s not truth and justice that prevails, but greed. With no direct evidence, they will bribe, cheat, and do whatever it takes to create it. Especially since it’s as easy as tricking an unknowing citizen into making a mistake. Getting you to admit something that may have nothing to do with the case, but which they will twist so it looks like it’s directly related. It’s why you must maintain the status quo. Do not talk to the FBI without representation. Do not sign the divorce papers. Go on about your life, like you always have. Be a mom. Write your books. Take the kids to school and get your workouts in like you always do.”

That’s it? That’s her advice. With my heart pounding, I reach up, placing a palm over my chest as though I’m trying to keep it from bursting out of my body.

“I can’t do that, Nic. It’s like asking me to sit calmly in a room consumed by flames. I’m going out of my mind here. There must be something I can do. Something that will ensure the girls are safe. That I don’t end up in prison, leaving them alone on this earth. I can’t do that to them, Nic. I won’t survive having to leave them, I won’t…”

“Hey, Emi. No.” She scoots her chair closer to me and takes my hands in hers. “It won’t come to that, and you’re right. There is something you can do. You trust in your friends. Have faith that Ben and his team are doing everything they can to figure out how to best proceed. Trust that I, as one of your best friends and the best attorney in the county, will put in the work to make sure you are legally protected. In the meantime, your job is to provide stability, love, and a safe place for those girls, while knowing that the rest of us are doing the same for you. We have your back. We won’t let anything happen to you or those girls. You have my word.”

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Author's Note: 

Embree is out of her mind with fear!
  Rightfully so, given all the revelations. What I love most about this chapter is Emilia's realization that the only one she can trust is the person she thought betrayed her. 

Tell me what you think of this chapter. Do you agree that Emilia's friends, when they advise her not to go to the FBI?

NEW SCHEDULE!!! CHAPTERS post at 3:00 PM EST on Tuesdays & Thursdays!!!

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Chapter 24

Emilia

It’s not until I’m coming face to face with the two men at my door that I wish I’d pushed Creed into letting me attend the agency’s family events. At least then I’d know for sure who these men are, or at the very least, if they’re agents he trusted.

But as was the case with everything my husband did, he demanded a clear separation between work and his private life. He was adamant the two worlds should never mix, and though I understood, I can’t deny it’s partly to blame for the rift that grew between us. That professional part of him is one he made sure I never got the chance to know, and sadly, that was the part that made up most of who he was.

In their starched white dress shirts and black ties, they would look like typical businessmen, if not for the large FBI logo printed on their jackets. The gold badges dangling from their necks show they’re here in an official capacity. Instantly I’m struck by a sense of foreboding. The intense stares and sharp tones immediately convey they aren’t here as friends of my husband.

“Mrs. Preston, we have business we’d like to discuss. Could we come in?”

“Uh, no.” I straighten my shoulders and step out onto my porch, making sure the door clicks shut behind me. “I’d like to talk out here if that’s alright?” Feigning ignorance as coached by Nic and Ben, I continue. “Are you here with news of my husband?”

“What we have to discuss is sensitive in nature. Is there somewhere more private we can talk?” Agent One asks, his beady eyes scanning the area as though he suspects someone is watching.

“If you don’t mind, I’d prefer to stay out here. I’m not comfortable inviting you into my home, given you haven’t introduced yourselves or told me why you’re here.” So far, so good. As Ben instructed, keeping them outside where prying eyes can see is what’s safest.

“Our apologies, mam.” Agent Two reaches out a hand. “I’m Special Agent Carter Hunt and this is my partner, Special Agent Robert Kessler. We’re here to talk about your husband. If this is where you’re most comfortable, we can speak out here.”

He smiles at me before eyeing his partner with a pinched expression. I guess he’s playing the part of “good cop”. When I say nothing, he continues.

“Mrs. Preston, have you heard from your husband?”

The question pushes my buttons, my anger rising in a wave I couldn’t stop, even if I wanted to. “No. Have you?”

“We ask the questions here, Mrs. Preston. Not the other way around,” Special Agent Kessler smarts at me.

“How dare you?” I seethe, no longer able to hold back my disdain for the man who’s tormented me with his monthly calls. “For two years, all I’ve done is answer your questions while all you’ve done for me is issue threats. Now, after all this time, you have the nerve to show up at my door demanding I give you answers while declaring you don’t owe me any. Well, let me tell you something Mr. Kessler, after doing nothing to help my husband or my family during his absence, I owe you people nothing.” My voice is thick, as angry tears swell into an uncontrollable rage.

“Mrs. Preston,” Agent Kessler, steps toward me, his posture stiff and threatening, “I would suggest you remember who you’re talking to. You’re in a lot of trouble here.” His movement is halted when Agent Hunt puts a hand to his chest.

“I’m in trouble?” I ask, a sarcastic chuckle escaping me as I’m awed by this man’s audacity. “What could I possibly be in trouble for? Skipping out on PTA meetings, or is it for not heeding the 5 miles per hour speed limit at the school’s drop-off line? In case you’re not aware of this, Agent Kessler. Every waking moment of my life is dedicated to raising my children alone because the FBI’s done nothing to bring their father home. So spare me your threats. I’ve done nothing to deserve your disrespect.”

“Please forgive my partner, mam. He’s used to dealing with criminals and it looks like he’s forgotten how to speak to the general public.” Agent Hunt says to me as he shoots an angry glare at his colleague. “Mrs. Preston, you have every right to be upset. The agency has not done right by you, and for that, I’m sorry. Not to make excuses, but I’m new to the Philadelphia Branch, so I didn’t learn of your husband’s situation until recently. Why don’t we start from the beginning?”

“That’s fine for you.” I swipe angrily at my tears, “But it doesn’t excuse Mr. Kessler, who not only knows of my husband’s situation but who calls once a month to threaten me. Because of that Mr. Kessler, you aren’t welcome inside my home. As for you, Mr. Hunt, you can start by telling me why you’re here.”

“Fair enough. We’re here because we’ve come across surveillance footage, confirming your husband is back on US soil.”

“What?” I shake my head, trying to piece together what Ben’s team found with what these agents are telling me now. “You people said he was missing, and now you’re telling me he’s back in the US. What the hell is going on? My husband was working for you. How did he go from missing to you standing at my doorstep questioning me when you should be out there saving him from whatever mess your agency got him into? What aren’t you telling me, Agent Hunt?”

“That’s classified, Mrs. Preston.” Kessler chimes in.

“Classified? Classified!” I scoff. “Not to insult you, Mr. Kessler, but that is my husband you are talking about. His service to your damn agency and all the problems it’s brought the past three years has been my burden to carry, my sacrifice. So don’t you dare act like I’m not owed answers.”

“Again, I apologize for Agent Kessler.” Hunt sighs, before stepping in front of his partner, blocking him from my view. “Mrs. Preston, or Emilia, can I call you Emilia?”

“No. You may not.” I glare at him, not buying the nice guy routine.

“Fair enough. Two years ago, it was discovered your husband was involved in certain illegal activities, the nature of which I’m not at liberty to disclose. When he was confronted, he managed to evade arrest and disappeared. Since then, we’ve been tracking his movements. Every time we get close, it’s as if someone alerts him, effectively letting him disappear again. Up to now, we’ve tracked his movements between Columbia and Venezuela, both countries that have strained diplomatic ties with the US. It’s one of the reasons it’s been difficult to apprehend him. But as of this week, we’ve received intel that he’s back on US soil.”

“The timing of his return, in addition to your recent activities, leads us to believe you’re his accomplice,” Kessler adds with a smirk.

“Accomplice to what?”

“Gun trafficking, human trafficking, drug trafficking, murder, harboring a fugitive… just to name a few.” The way Kessler spits out the words leaves no doubt the FBI is not on our side. They’re sure Creed is guilty. The very agency to which he dedicated his life to and sacrificed everything for is now working against him.

“No. Not Creed. He’d never get involved in anything like that.”

“Really?” Kessler, overjoyed that he’s gotten me to engage, steps around his partner. “Because you know so much about him, don’t you Emilia.” He spits out my name like the taste of it on his tongue offends him. “Tell me E-mi-li-a,” he annunciates my name, emphasizing each syllable in a way that sends fear climbing up my spine.

“How much did your husband share with you about his professional life? Because I find it odd that in the six years I worked with the guy, he never brought you around to our family activities. Not to a single picnic or barbeque. Not to a single agency dinner. Not even the time when all our families were invited to the White House for a presidential dinner. He never brought you to anything, did he, Mrs. Preston?” Stepping ever closer, the feel of his sordid breath over my skin sends pangs of nausea swirling in my gut.

“No. That’s right. Instead, he took that hot little number. What was her name?” He looks over to Hunt as if expecting him to answer, but then turns back to finish twisting the knife into my chest. “Oh, yeah, Special Agent Maxine Halder. With her tight little curves, those perky tits, and that red hair…f-u-c-k that woman was smoking hot gorgeous! I can see why he chose her over you, Mommy dearest.”

“That’s enough Kessler,” Hunt warns.

“No, not nearly. Not for the way her husband dishonored the agency, his country, and all of us who worked our assess off alongside him. He broke rank and violated our code, Mrs. Preston. As far as I’m concerned, as an extension of him, the onus to make things right now falls to you.”

Even as I glare at him in anger, I’m shaking like a leaf. His words hit their mark, bringing up all the times I doubted my husband. Every ugly conversation we’ve had. Every difficult moment. They all replay in my mind as my heart searches for evidence that Kessler’s words are true. Was there someone else? Someone he turned to at the FBI instead of me? Is she the reason he wanted a divorce?

But in the end, what does it matter? Nothing they’ve said to me today is believable, so why would this thing with the redhead agent be any different?

“I don’t believe you. Not a word you’ve said today makes any sense.” I sneer at him, digging deep to hide the intense fear and doubt he’s planted in me.

“Of course not,” he sneers. “I wouldn’t expect a sweet, small-town thing like you to understand such complex matters. In any case, if you care at all about your daughters, I suggest you stop whatever it is you’re doing with Ben Chelsey’s organization. We are very aware of their activities, which we assume can be credited back to you. It’s called obstruction. Obstructing a federal investigation is a crime that comes with stiff penalties, including long prison terms. And what would those poor little girls do, with no mama or papa, to keep them safe? Could you imagine what could become of such young, innocent, and beautiful little girls?”

“That’s enough Kessler!”

“Fuck you, Hunt. I’m pulling rank, so stay out of it.” He snaps at Agent Hunt before turning his ire back to me. “And fuck you too, bitch!” He sneers under his breath, his eyes scan suggestively down my body only to come back and meet my gaze. The act makes me feel dirty, the fear and disgust ramp up to where everything in me wants to run and hide. “Call it off Mrs. Preston. Whatever you’re digging for, whatever you all think you’re doing, end it before it’s too late. And if you do hear from your husband, be sure to tell him that if he cares at all about you and those brats, he better man the fuck up and turn himself in.”

“You’re threatening us?” My physical stance is defiant, but inside, I’m terrified by what he’s implying.

“No, I’m threatening him. You and the rug rats are just collateral damage. I take no joy in hurting pretty women or lovely little children, but given the seriousness of his crimes, he’s left us no choice. Get him to turn himself in, and when he does, I’ll see to your safety and that of your daughters personally.”

His sly grin floods my system with adrenaline, the fear in the air so thick that I feel my legs begin to buckle under its weight. But no. I can’t. I won’t let him see that he’s won.

“I’d be careful if I were you, Mr. Kessler. My husband isn’t known for taking kindly to threats, nor is he known for backing down. While we may be nothing more than collateral damage to you, if something happens to us, he won’t stop until you’re dead.”

“Touche, Mrs. Preston. Touche. But I’ll end with this. While I’m only one man, I assure you there are hundreds of others more powerful than me, standing behind me. He’ll never get his revenge on us all. And regardless of what he does, you and those girls will still end up serving a fate worse than death.”

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Author's Note: 

Can you tell Emilia's had enough?
 Gone is her conflict-avoidant nature, replaced instead by angry defiance. Circumstances have backed her into a corner and now that these men have threatened the safety of her girls the protective mama bear has taken over.

So tell me what you think of this chapter. Any guesses as to what's going on with Creed?

NEW SCHEDULE!!! CHAPTERS post at 3:00 PM EST on Tuesdays & Thursdays!!!

For updates on this and future stories, remember to follow me.

Chapter 25

Lucas

“Where is she?” I ask, rushing past Ben while scanning the busy dining room behind him. The need to see her and make sure she’s okay outweighs everything else right now.

“In the back office with Aunt Rosie, but…”

Not interested in whatever he has to say, I walk past him, pulling Nero along, so he follows. In my periphery, the room blurs, and all I see is the bright red door that separates me from the woman I love. Yet another barrier. This is how it is between the universe and me. Forever dangling things I can’t live without, on the other side of obstacles I can’t breach.

Knocking on the door, I glance at Nero, whose deep brown eyes look up at me with understanding. “Embree, it’s me. I’m coming in.”

When I enter, I find her sitting on the small loveseat next to her Aunt. Her knees are drawn to her chest, her eyes red and rimmed with unshed tears, but that all changes the moment she sees me. Coming to a stand, she wraps her arms around herself and lifts her chin in defiance.

“What are you doing here?” She’s angry. It makes sense, given I walked out on her the last time we spoke. That was four days ago. I was so conflicted after hearing her declare her love for her husband, I thought it would be best to keep my distance. Now I see that the apology I owe her is four days too late.

“I came as soon as Ben called. I needed to see you were okay.”

Never breaking our stare down, she says, “Aunt Rosie, could you give us a minute?”

“Of course, dear. It’s so nice to see you again Luc.” Aunt Rosie wraps me up in a warm hug before whispering, “Whatever you did, make it right. She needs you right now.”

Returning the hug, I nod and then watch as she turns to leave the room. The soft click of the door closing leaves Embree, Nero and I standing in awkward silence. Uncertainty fills the air and based on how she’s looking at me, it’s obvious she doesn’t want me here. Her continued silence speaks volumes and makes my skin crawl. The fear she’ll send me away leaves me desperate to try and set things right.

“I’m sorry,” I say on an exhale, my head hung in shame.

Unable to face the scrutiny in those whiskey eyes, I turn away from her. The wall in front of me is crowded with pictures of Aunt Rosie’s family. Moments of happiness with her daughter and late husband are captured and displayed with loving care. At one time, my family home held pictures just like these. Framed snippets of a happy life, burned and destroyed by the same flames that stole my parents away. Swallowing back the sudden wave of grief, I shake my head and take a deep breath. Now isn’t the time. This moment can’t be about me.

“I shouldn’t have walked out the way I did.” I hang my head again, the weight of my regret making everything heavy.

“But you did.” Her voice behind me is curt. It’s a tone I’ve never heard from her before, and the shock of it has me spinning around to face her. “Which is fine.” The quiver in her chin says otherwise.

Leaning against the desk, she pulls her shoulders back, probably in an attempt to exude confidence. But try as she might, she can’t hide the hurt buried underneath all the pretense. At least not from me.

“I understand why you did. My life is complicated, and it was wrong to expect you to drop everything to help me. So I’m giving you an out. You can go back to your life, Lucas. It’s better this way since all we seem to do is disappoint one another.”

With that final blow delivered, she leaves the room. Taking with her all the hope and warmth I’d just begun to feel in my cold, jaded heart. The trust I’ve worked so hard to build over the past couple of weeks shattered and broken in the end. Our friendship, never mind the chance at anything more, is now tainted, all because I was too selfish to put my feelings aside.

Her words must hit their mark, for it’s not until Nero licks my face that I realize I’ve collapsed onto the loveseat. I can’t believe I’ve done it again. I hurt her. Even worse is knowing she’s right. I will always disappoint her because it’s who I am. Whatever good existed in me rotted away long ago, thanks to senseless tragedies and shitty circumstances.

As I’m swallowed up by hopelessness, my mind drifts to our time at the lake. It was only my second day back when I took her there to clear the air. At the time, I had little to no expectation of what would happen in the days to come, but her words of forgiveness and understanding soothed the dark void that, for more than a decade, had eaten away at me. It awakened something in me. Something akin to hope. Like a spark. A want. For the first time in 15 years, I could see hints of a future I wanted to be a part of.

I’ve done some awful things in my life. Things that make me not deserving of her, but fuck! There’s no going back. My heart wants what it wants, even knowing she isn’t mine and will probably never be. She’s the balm to my irritated mind, the quench to my thirst for peace. She’s the air that I long for when I can’t breathe, and the only one who pacifies the haunted demons inside me. There is no going back. I won’t walk away from her. Not now. Not ever again.

Rubbing rough hands over my face, I come to a decision. The Embree I spoke to just now is hurt. She’s angry, and she’s scared. More importantly, her ire toward me is well deserved. I have a lot to make up for and the only way to prove to her and myself that I deserve to be here and back in her life is through my actions.

By being there for her through the tough times.

By staying, even when all I want to do is run.

By supporting her, even if it’s toward the arms of another.

From this point forward, she is my mission. Protecting her, keeping her family safe, and neutralizing all threats.

With my mind made up, I head out of the office and make my way to the private space where I know the team is waiting.

“There you are. Nice of you to finally join us,” Ben chides.

Unlike the last time we were here, the room has been configured with one large table at the center, which accommodates eight. With all members of the team in attendance, the only seat available is the one next to Embree. That she avoids my gaze as I sit next to her cuts deep, but I tamp down my disappointment, choosing instead to focus on the reason I’m here.

“Let’s get started,” Ben looks around the table as everyone quiets. “As you know, the FBI paid Emilia a visit this morning. Though they attempted to scramble the signal, we were able to capture audio of the exchange, which we will play for everyone now. Emilia has expressed her desire to stay through this part.” Looking at Emilia, his tone changes to that of a loving big brother. “If at any point this gets to be too much, say the word and we’ll stop.” Then to Owen, he says, “Whenever you’re ready.”

For the next thirteen minutes, I’m on the edge of my seat, my anger and disdain for the asshole FBI agents growing by the second. How fucking dare they speak to her that way, and why the hell did we leave her so damned exposed, given what we know? Nothing about this situation sits right. The entire story is like that of a movie, with everything pointing to some sort of conspiracy within the FBI. As I look at the men sitting around the table, I see the same rage I feel. They all know what this means, a battle the likes of which none of us have ever seen.

As the audio concludes, the room falls into a deep silence. Everyone is working through the information, and no one wants to say out loud that which we’re not ready to face as truth. But in the end, this isn’t something we can ignore.

“This is on us. One of us should have been there.” I can’t help the accusing tone as I look right at Ben. After all, he’s the one who insisted it wasn’t necessary. He was so sure tapping into their surveillance and watching from a distance would be enough.

“We had her covered Luc, hence the audio. This is more information than we had. Given all the protocols that were broken, it confirms their investigation isn’t on the up and up. Plus, now we know they’re unaware we’ve tapped into their surveillance. They wouldn’t have been this sloppy if they knew we were listening.”

“They could have taken her, Ben. Then we’d be stuck with no way of getting to her,” I remind him since he’s obviously forgotten what’s at stake.

“They’re FBI. If they wanted her, they’d only have to arrest her. Even if we’d been there, there’s nothing we could have done to prevent it.” James adds as he leans back in his chair.

While I know he’s right, it doesn’t change the way my blood boils when I think of her facing those thugs alone.

“If you think about it, this is a good thing.” Owen pipes in. “They just showed their hand and in that footage gave us leverage. A little something we can use to make them think twice before they come near her again.”

“Did you forget that leverage was obtained illegally? Are you ready to face the consequences of that inmate 78462? Cause I’m not interested in going back to prison, which is exactly where we’ll end up if that’s the game we choose to play,” Zeb remarks as he fidgets in his seat.

“He’s right. We can’t bribe the FBI into leaving her alone.” I concur. “They’re a federal agency, backed by the Justice Department, reporting to the President of the United States. Bribing them is like poking a dragon with a twig and hoping it doesn’t bite back. We do this and the motherfuckers aren’t just going to bite back, they’re going to torch us to the fucking ground.”

“Lucas is right,” Mason, who’s been quietly listening at the end of the table, jumps into the conversation. “We can’t go after the FBI, but what about the agents who showed up at her door? Kessler and Hunt. They broke procedure. They bullied and threatened her. There’s no way OPR would stand for that, especially if the audio file was leaked to the public. There’d be an investigation. Their jobs would be at risk, along with their pensions and retirement. I’d bet the agents would do anything to keep that from happening.”

“Who’s OPR?” Emilia asks, deep worry lines marring her beautiful face.

“Office of Professional Responsibility. It’s the equivalent of internal affairs for the FBI,” Owen responds.

“It was still obtained illegally. The FBI will not let that go. They’ll investigate.” James adds. “They’ll come after us.”

“Nah. Trust me on this, brother. I can finagle something up, make it look like we used our own surveillance to capture the footage.” Owen responds with certainty.

“But wait, they warned me against making things worse. Can you guarantee the girls and I will be safe if we do this? Can you be certain things won’t escalate? If not, we can’t do it. I won’t have my girls be put at risk.”

“Emilia…” I sigh, aware that what I’m about to say will be difficult to hear. “The only thing we’re clear on right now is that you’re not safe. Regardless of where we go from here, even if we don’t go after those agents, it won’t matter because, to them, you’re a means to an end. A way for them to get to Creed. To remove the target off your back, we have to give them what they want. Since that’s not possible, you’ll need protection until we find a way to get them to move on.”

For the first time, her armor falls away and she wilts before us. Her whiskey eyes grow distant as they fill with despair. “So what do I do now?”

Reaching for her hand, I squeeze reassuringly. “For now, there’s nothing for you to do except trust that the men around this table will come up with a plan to keep you and the girls safe. You’re not alone, Embree. Not anymore.”

As she remains quiet and doesn’t pull her hand away, I search her tired eyes for a sign she’s still with us. She’s not. The weight of what’s happening has caught up, leaving her despondent. We need to move this along so I can get her out of here.

“What now?” asks Zeb. “How do we approach these assholes without bringing the wrath of the federal government on our heads?”

Zeb, like Owen and James, is distrustful of law enforcement. From the little Ben has told me, the three of them have a criminal history, which is how they learned the skills that make them valuable members of our team.

“I’ll take care of it, since the audio proves they know who I am,” Ben says, before turning to Owen. “Keep that audio file safe. In the meantime, I’ll figure out who amongst our friends at the FBI I need to meet with.”

“As for Embree and the girls, I’ll take point,” I affirm. “I’ll need help working out a plan for the girls, so they’re covered while at school.”

“Zeb, James, and Mason, I’m assigning the three of you. James, you’ve got Alyssa. Zeb, since you’re almost her size, you’ve got little Mallory.” The room erupts in laughter. “The two of you will cover the girls when they’re in school, including their rides to and from. Lucas and Mason together will cover the girls when they’re home with Emilia. Owen, I’ll need you to up the security at the house, including shutting down current FBI surveillance. Our friends may have a problem with it at first, but I’ll make sure to bring them on board when I meet with them.

“Mason and Lucas, it’s time to cash in those favors we talked about. Since it seems much of what they’re doing is off the books, you’ll need to vet anyone brought in on this to be sure they can be trusted. While priority one is keeping everyone safe, we’ll need information on the case the FBI is building against Creed, along with all the ways they’re tying it back to Emilia.

“Hopefully, that information will explain what’s driving them so far off the reservation that they’d take such a colossal risk and threaten her in broad daylight. All information is to be funneled through Dominick, who’ll work with me to investigate and dig deeper until we find a solution.”

“What about Creed? Should we try to find him before they do?” Dominick asks.

“Yes…” Emilia’s voice stills the room. Her eagerness stabs through my heart, but like I swore I would, I suck it up. “What they’re saying he did, that’s not him. You know him, Ben, you know he wouldn’t do this…” she pleads, her eyes begging that he help save him .

Her husband.

The man who has her heart.

The same selfish bastard that brought this hell to her doorstep.

I shouldn’t hate him as much as I do. I shouldn’t despise him or place judgment upon him without all the facts, but I can’t help it. Maybe because I’m jealous, or maybe because in his actions I see so much of myself. I abandoned her first. In a lot of ways, he and I are the same and she deserves so much better than another prick like me.

“I know.” Ben sighs. “And you’re right. Owen and Dominick, the three of us will work together to find him. Tap into whatever you can access without putting us on the FBI’s radar.”

Turning back to Embree, and with his voice full of love and sincerity, he promises. “We’ll find him, Emi. If he is back in the country, we’ll do our best to get to him before they do.”

“Thank you.” She whispers. The tiredness in her eyes seemingly spreads through her body as she slumps back in her seat. With the adrenaline wearing off, it’s only a matter of time until she crashes.

Pushing down my emotions, I clear my throat and come to a stand. “I’m taking her home. She’ll call the school from the car to let them know the situation. James and Zeb go ahead and get to the girls. Owen, how soon can you be at the house to set up?”

Grabbing her hand, I pull her to a stand, handing her Nero’s leash while I reach for her purse. With him at her side, I’ll feel much better walking out of here. I must make it clear to him that she and the girls are ours to protect.

“In about an hour. Just need to make a couple of calls to secure what we need.”

With a nod, I turn to her, taking her keys from her other hand. To my surprise, she doesn’t resist. “I need someone to drive her car home,” I tell the team.

“I’ll take care of it,” Dominick says, as I toss the keys his way.

And then we’re gone. The feel of her shaky hand in mine helping to re-affirm the only thing that matters now.

The mission.

Protecting her and keeping her family safe.

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 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Author’s Note:

She and those girls are now the mission! Protecting Embree and keeping the girls safe is what matters, and given what’s been disclosed in this scene, his commitment couldn’t have come at a better time. His willingness to put Embree first, even if it means reuniting her with the man she married is honorable and makes me love him that much more.

So tell me what you think of this chapter. Did you see the part about three of the guys having criminal records? Do you think their plan of going after the FBI agents instead of the bureau is a good move?

NEW SCHEDULE!!! CHAPTERS post at 3:00 PM EST on Tuesdays & Thursdays!!!

For updates on this and future stories, remember to follow me.

# Chapter 26

Emilia

 Ever been faced with a truth so outside the realm of possibility that it upended everything you thought you knew about your life? Well... this right here is that kind of moment. It's why I find myself sitting in the front seat of Lucas's truck, wondering where it all went wrong.

I guess this proves that Creed was right. I am every bit of the naive girl he proclaimed me to be whenever I refused to acknowledge the evil that lurked outside our safe little world. The thing is, I'm a firm believer that there is more good in the world than evil, and therefore I chose not to live my life from a place of fear.

Looking back, I now understand that this is what he was trying to protect me from. After enduring what I have the past three years, let alone the past few hours, I see now just how foolish I've been. Good doesn't always prevail over evil because evil is cunning. Opportunistic. A trickster that thrives by infiltrating positions of power, where it disguises itself and hides amongst the good. The shocking revelation isn't that there are bad people in the world, but that those who I thought were good and could be trusted are the ones I need to fear. 

The question that remains is, on which side does my husband belong?

"Are you okay?" The sound of his voice brings me out of my head. His tone is one of concern and laced with caution. The tension between us is strange, and it's clear that he too, is having a hard time navigating the awkwardness that sits between us.

"I'm fine," I answer, though we both know it's a lie. Hoping to convey I'm not interested in conversation, I turn toward the passing scene. Through the tinted window, I catch sight of my reflection and almost cringe. I've never hated the girl staring back at me more than I do now. She's damaged, pathetic, and bursting with ugly feelings that have never been me.

"You can talk to me, Emb."

"Sure I can." Passive aggressive. I guess it's right on brand for the new me.

If he notices my sarcastic tone, he doesn't let on. Instead, he allows us to fall back into a heavy silence, which I appreciate. The less we talk, the better off we'll both be.

"I'm sorry for walking out. The last time... the first time. I really am sorry, Embree."

His tone is pained and his regret cuts through the anger and layers of old scars, down to the remnants of the girl I was before all this. The girl who wanted nothing more than to please and take care of those she loved. The me who'd rather be hurt than be the one to inflict pain. That I'm to blame for his sadness compounds with everything I'm feeling and plunges me deeper into the dark void that's slowly smothering me.

Lying back against the headrest, I close my eyes. The terrifying part of all this is not knowing what's coming. The likelihood the girls and I will come out of this unaffected seems nearly impossible. It's why I'm wondering if my life is destined to meet a devastating end, wouldn't it be better to get it over with now? If only to save myself from the despair of watching my world crumble under my feet, especially if it saves those I love from the struggle of a meaningless fight.

Then again, that's the coward in me talking. If this were just about me, I'd have no problem lying down and waiting for the end to come. But the mother in me, the fighter that was born the moment Alyssa entered my world and whose will was reaffirmed when Mallory took her first breath. That part of me is adamant I protect my girls at all costs. Through all of this, I must find a way to keep them innocent, happy, and safe.

"I know you're pissed at me, and I deserve it. I shouldn't have walked out, not when all you needed was someone to comfort you."

Comfort me. Seriously?

 "I didn't need your comfort," I scoff. "What I needed was my friend! You remember him. The boy who was always there for me, the one who promised he'd never let me fall... until the day he did. You want the truth? You really want to know how I feel? I'm glad you walked out on me four days ago because it was a reminder that it's who you are. What you do. It's what you all do. Expecting different, that was my mistake." At the sudden chill, I wrap my arms around myself. There's much more I want to say, and even more, I wish I hadn't.

I'm caught off guard when he abruptly steers the truck onto the shoulder of the tree-lined road. Too late, I realize, that I've awakened that stubborn part of him that refuses to back down from a fight. He's going to push me and force a discussion I'm not ready to have. I'm too upset. Too worked up for this to end well. In a panic, I unbuckle my seat belt and bolt out of the car.

I need space, a moment to think, to grieve, to just be.

"Goddamnit. Embree stop!"

It doesn't take long for him to reach me. A strong hand grips me by the crook of my elbow and spins me back hard against his chest. At first contact, I fight him. Pushing and hitting with everything I have, as instinct demands I get away. The urge to run from him and everything that is wrong with my life rides me hard until my muscles burn and I'm gasping to catch my breath.

As the warmth of his body seeps into my skin, I fist my hands into his shirt. The soothing comfort that suddenly shrouds me as he pulls me closer sucks the fight out of me until I'm nothing more than a sobbing mess. Closing my eyes, I surrender to the security his body provides. After years of operating in survival mode, this right here is where I want to stay. Sheltered and protected in his arms, I decide I can't do this anymore.

So I break.

In a tidal wave of emotion, three years of built-up pressure release in an instant. All my walls shatter at once as powerful sobs overtake me. The painful heaving breaths render me weak, and when my legs collapse under me, his body follows mine to the ground, never letting go.

With every teardrop, all pretense disappears, and the will to hide the imperfections of my life no longer seems to matter. This is me. Plain as day, here in his arms, all the fake is replaced by who I really am. A damaged girl who's been abandoned too many times. A girl who doesn't feel like she's enough for those she loves.

"Shhh..." He soothes, and with every gentle stroke of his hands, I melt deeper into the safety net he's offering.

I'm so stupid. Stupid and weak for allowing things to get to this point. Ignoring my reality has served no purpose, and it seems the only one who's been fooled by my pretense is me. But I've been living this lie for so long. Telling myself that everything's fine, that Creed will eventually come home and my life will return to normal. I made it my reason for pushing forward, for carrying on and fighting to keep my head above water. 

But now? 

How do I come to terms with the fact my life will never be the same? That my marriage has no hope. Or that the man I married isn't the person I thought he was. How do I let go of the future I thought we'd have?

"I don't know how to do this," I confess between sobs. "I don't know what I'm supposed to do."

"I know, but we'll figure it out. You're not alone in this. Not anymore."

At his words, the tension in my body eases. He's right. I'm not alone. I have my girls. My friends. Maybe the answer is to turn to them and rebuild my life based on what is, rather than what should have been.

As difficult as these realizations are, I can't help but notice how they fill me with strength. With every tear shed, my will to persevere grows along with the desire to reclaim my life. Not the one built on my husband's dreams, but on my wants and needs. A life where I'm an active participant. One in which I live on my terms, independent of what others want or how it makes them feel. A life in which I live for me. For my girls.

"I got you. I'm here and this time I'm not going anywhere."           

And I believe him.

The connection that has bound us together our whole lives blazes with an intensity I haven't felt since before he left all those years ago. Strong and re-secured, it's like our hearts now beat as one. He's my savior. My partner in this life. He's my strength, just as I am his.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean what I said..." I manage the words between sobs.

"It doesn't matter. I deserved every word."

"I'm just so mad. And hurt. And so damned scared, I don't know where to put it all."

"Yes, you do. Put it right here, onto me. Let me be the one to carry it. Let me ease the burden on your soul, sweetheart. Because someone like you, someone with so much love and life inside, should never have to carry all that darkness. So give it to me. I'll set you free."

His beautiful words seep into my aching heart, tamping down the pain and anger that never seems to wane. He'll never know how badly I wish I could do as he says. But when you live in darkness for so long, when holding onto it becomes the thing that drives you forward, you get to a point where you no longer remember how to live without it.

Pulling back, and with hands cupping my face, he looks straight into my eyes. "I know I've let you down, but I'm here now. I will not stop until we get you and the girls free from this mess. I promise. I will never. Ever. Let you fall again."

Want to read ahead? The next 
2 Chapters are available FREE
 if you F
OLLOW ME on REAM
!!! (Link in my profile)

Author’s Note:

My heart hurts for Emilia! Especially when she mentions she doesn’t feel like she’s enough for the people she loves. But then Lucas’s words to her, how he offers to carry the darkness, and then promises to never let her fall again… swoon!

What do you think of this chapter?

Also (this is a technical question to help me flush out her character), did her willingness to believe him at the end come too soon? As a reader, would it have made more sense for her to still have lingering doubts? Or does the way it’s written work for the scene?

NEW SCHEDULE!!! CHAPTERS post at 3:00 PM EST on Tuesdays & Thursdays!!!

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# Chapter 27

Emilia

"Kids ready?" I startle at the sound of Zeb's voice. "My fault. Didn't mean to scare you."

"That's alright." I turn off the kitchen sink and give him a bright smile. I hope it's enough to hide my annoyance at the way they just let themselves inside. It's all thanks to the entry code access Owen installed a week ago, in the name of securing the house and keeping us safe. "They're in the living room. I'll grab them so you don't have to take your shoes off."

Tossing the dishtowel back onto the counter, I follow the sounds of the girls' latest movie obsession. In the living room, I'm greeted by the sight of two burly men cuddled up next to my girls. Four pairs of eyes are focused on the TV screen and the look of utter contentment on my daughters' faces as they revel in the warm safety of the guys goes a long way toward easing some of my frustration. This is especially true when I notice my shy little Mallory sitting on Lucas's lap.

As difficult as it's been having the guys coming and going out of my home, the one positive is the way the girls instantly bonded with them. During the day Zeb and James take them to and from school, and in the evenings and nights it's Lucas and Mason who take turns watching over us. As far as the girls are concerned, the guys being here means they have a revolving door of playmates and all the attention they could want.

For me though, the adjustment this past week has been more difficult. Aside from constantly having the guys around, the hardest part was giving up the girls' school drop-off and pick-up routines. I never realized how much I cherished those car rides with them until I had to watch them be driven away from me as I stood at the door with tears in my eyes.

"Girls, Zeb and James are here."

"Ooh, yay. Coming!" Alyssa screeches, as she rolls off the couch and lands on her feet with an exaggerated oomph.

"Wucas. Can you come wif me?" Mallory's sweet voice is so quiet I almost miss what she's said.

Surprised, I look over at Lucas in time to catch the look of awe that washes over him. "I'm sorry, Mally, I have to stay and help your mama with her day. But Zeb is one of my best buds. He promised to watch over you in school and will bring you right home as soon as you're finished. Nero and I will be here waiting for you."

The answer seems to appease her, as she reaches her little arms around his neck and plants a kiss on his cheek. When his face flames red, it takes everything I have to stifle a laugh. It's adorable how affection from my little girl can turn such a big guy into a pile of mush.

Helping her off his lap, I tell them, "Okay girls. Say bye to Lucas, Mason, and Nero. You'll see them again after school."

After saying their goodbyes, I take their hands and lead them to the door off the kitchen, where James and Zeb await. Handing them off for the day is always the hardest part.

Blinking back tears from the doorway, I watch as the guys strap both the girls into their car seats. The first couple of days I tried to be the one to do it, but I couldn't get through it without the girls noticing how sad it made me. It's why Lucas convinced me it was best if I saw them off from the threshold of the house.

"They'll be okay," Lucas whispers from behind me.

Though he's not touching me, he's close enough that I can feel the warmth of his body at my back. As is the case whenever he's this close, my body reacts. Goosebumps break out over my flesh, and my belly spins in a delicious dance that travels down to my lady parts. As there's nothing sexual in what he's doing, I blame my body's response on the fact I haven't been touched by a man in more than three years.

For the next few minutes, we stand together, then we wave to the girls as Zeb and James drive away with them. The minute the cars turn the corner, my heart sinks and I lose the fight to hold back the tears.

"Come on. Let's get you inside," he tells me, as he takes my elbow and guides me back into the house. When the door closes, he pulls me into his arms. "You'll be alright. I promise this will all be over before you know it."

"It doesn't feel like it. It feels like the world is crashing down around me and I'm just sitting here, helpless to do anything about it."

"You feel out of control."

I nod and bury my face deeper into his chest. "I'm so mad at him, Lucas. He did this. He's the cause of all of this. I don't understand how he could let this happen to us."

"Maybe he didn't know this would happen. You know him. Do you think he's capable of what they say he's done?"

"No," I don't have to think about it. "Absolutely not. Everything he's done in his life, including leaving us, was so he could give his all to his job at the FBI. He would never go against the oath he made." I look up at him, hoping to convey how certain I am of this.

Tenderly wiping away a stray tear from my cheek, he says, "Then there's your answer. He's not responsible for what's happening. Whatever is going on, he's likely a victim of the system, same as you and the girls."

He's being so understanding. Attempting to comfort me with words that resonate and make perfect sense, but in my current state, it only makes me angrier.

"He left us! He set this into motion the minute he chose his job over his family." My voice breaks, and I put a hand over my mouth to hold back an angry sob.            

Pulling me back into his chest, he wraps his arms around me. "Maybe, but if what you and Ben say is true, I don't believe he intended for this to happen. But... until we talk to him and get his side of the story, it's all speculation. Hearsay. For now, give him the benefit of the doubt. It's what's best for you and your heart. Once we find him, we'll make sure you get the answers you need."

Wrapped safely in the comfort of his arms, I hold on to his words and use them to ease away the fear and uncertainty. Or maybe it isn't the words that set me at ease, but his presence. His warmth. The feel of his body holding me so tenderly. Protectively. And for a woman who's suffered alone for years, being taken care of in this way awakens a part of me that has long been dormant. When his hand curls into the hair at the nape of my neck, my breath catches.

In an instant, something charged and potent wraps its way around us, intensifying every sensation. The heat of his body seeps into me, warming my core. While the solid wall of muscle under my hands lowers my inhibitions, driving my fingers to explore. The sounds of our ragged breaths sync into a rhythm all our own, and like a moth to a flame, our eyes draw to one another until all I want, all I see, is him. When his eyes lock onto my lips, a pained groan rises from deep within his chest. As if startled by the sound, he rips his hand out of my hair and lets me go.

"Fuck. I'm sorry..." he rubs a hand over the back of his neck as he continues to back away. "I shouldn't... we shouldn't."

Humiliation prickles at my chest, up through my neck, and onto my face. When my eyes begin to sting, I turn away. His rejection rubs at the raw wound left by those who've convinced me I'm not enough. That he doesn't want to be with me shouldn't matter, given I'm married, yet it means everything. It's devastating, especially since after all these years he still holds the missing piece of my soul.

"I'm heading up to finish getting ready. Breakfast is still on the stove if you want any."

"Embree, wait..."

I don't wait. Instead, I pick up the pace and retreat. There is nothing he can say to make this better. Nothing he can do to change the circumstances. Once in my room, I collapse against the back of my door, dropping to the floor as the sobs I'd been holding burst free. He rejected me. That I'm so torn up about it in the same breath I'm heartbroken over what Creed's done to our family is as ridiculous as it is confusing.

The pathetic reality is I'm so desperate to be loved, to be wanted and chosen, that I fell into the arms of the one man I already know I can't trust with my heart. For god's sake, he's the one who left me first. The one who cast the very first stone that shattered me into unsalvageable pieces. When will I learn? When will I stop craving the connection he obviously doesn't want?

At the sound of quiet footsteps, I go silent. Wiping my face, I move away from the door, watching as a shadow forms under the crack. He doesn't knock. He doesn't make a sound, but I swear I hear a slight bump, like he's leaning his forehead against it. Is he listening to make sure I'm okay? Is he there because he regrets pulling away?

No. I can't do this. I can't continue to be this desperate, pitiful girl.

Determined to put a stop to these feelings, I turn my back to the door and the man waiting on the other side. Grabbing the clothes I laid out when I woke up, I head to the master bathroom to get dressed for the day ahead. In the 7 days since the FBI showed up at my door, I've only left the house once, to attend the surprise birthday dinner the girls coordinated in my honor. As much as I appreciated it, having to pretend I was happy to be there was exhausting and draining in ways I wasn't ready for. Never in a million years did I imagine that on my 31st birthday, I'd be under investigation by the FBI, or that the man I married might be a criminal who betrayed the very agency he abandoned us for.

Thankfully, today's reason for leaving the house is one I am looking forward to. With my life in such turmoil, talk of work is a welcomed distraction. That's why when my agent's office called two days ago to set up an in-person appointment, I jumped at the chance. I'd do anything to get out of this house, which as of late feels more like a prison. Though I don't know what the meeting is about, I'm looking forward to focusing on anything other than my husband, the FBI, or the men now running my life.

When I rejoin Lucas downstairs, I find him standing at the kitchen island. Avoiding his gaze, I focus on the two steaming mugs of coffee in front of him.

"Here," he slides one of them in my direction. "Figured you'd want another cup before we leave."

"Thank you," I tell him, as I reach for the cup and take a seat at the furthest point from him.

As I bring the warm liquid to my lips, he asks, "This meeting, anything I need to know?"

I guess we're doing this, both of us pretending we didn't just have a moment that went spectacularly wrong. That he's moved on from it and isn't pushing to talk about it hurts, even as I know it was me who walked away first.

"It's with my agent. I'm behind on a project. She probably wants to discuss it."

"An agent? Never knew authors needed one of those."

"Not all authors do." I leave it at that, taking another sip of the coffee he's prepared. A week in and he already knows the way I like it.

When we're finally in his truck, on the way to my agent's office, he asks, "How long are these meetings usually?"

"Don't know. She didn't specify."

I know I'm being short with him, but my feelings are hurt and I can't help it. As usual, he's aware of the minefield that's currently my mood and thankfully he lets it go. We spend the rest of the ride sitting in awkward silence. Like a glutton for punishment, my eyes keep wandering to the hand that held mine that first day I rode in this truck with him. That day, he reached for my hand and clung to it like it was his lifeline. Now, it's curled tightly around the steering wheel of the car like he's holding on to it for dear life.

It hurts. God, why does it fricken hurt? Even as I sit here, sad, angry, and disappointed with him, why do I want his touch more than I want my next breath? That I'm so willing to be his lifeline, at the expense of my heart and self-respect, shows just how screwed up I am.

When we arrive at the building, Lucas instructs me to wait in the car, as he secures Nero's harness and then comes around to open my door. Once inside, I'm not surprised by the shocked expressions of those we encounter at the sight of my 6' 4" bodyguard and his fearless canine. Since he started working for Ben, Nero now sports a security patch on his harness, which leaves no doubt of his role in our little group.

When we get off the elevator, I tell Lucas and Nero to have a seat in the waiting area, and then I head over to the reception desk to sign myself in. Though I can tell he wasn't happy to let me go off on my own, he agreed. It's both surprising and disappointing, but I guess it aligns with his sudden need to avoid the building conflict between us.

"Hi, I'm Emilia Preston. I'm here for a meeting with Lydia Hannigan." The receptionist is beautiful. Blond with bright blue eyes and the prettiest manicured nails I've seen in a long time. I remember when I too had the time to indulge in that kind of self-pampering.

"I'm sorry, Ms. Preston. Mrs. Hannigan isn't in today." Surprised, I stare at her, unsure of what to say. Before I can respond, her phone rings. "Good morning, Hanningan and Fettmore. How can I help you?" Still unsure of what's going on, I watch the blond receptionist nod her head a few times before her eyes come to me. "Sure, just a moment. I'll put her on." When she goes to hand me the phone, I stare at it for a second before it dawns on me the call must be for me.

"Hello?"

"Emilia, it's me. Creed. Do not say my name, do not turn around. Don't react in any way. Just smile and pretend everything's okay because it is. Everything's going to be okay."

"W-what?"

"Emi, I need you to listen. I have to see you. To explain what's happening, so I can help you. Say, 
yes
, if you understand."

"Y-yes..." my tone is hesitant. The shock of hearing his voice after all this time creates this numbing effect where nothing feels real.

"Good. I've instructed Ms. Wood to buzz you in. When you come through the door, follow the passageway to the back. I'll meet you there. Say, 
of course
, if you understand."

My brain still catching up, I hesitate.

"Say it, Emilia. Say, 
of course,
 if you understand."

"Of course..."

"Good. Now, do not look back at the man you're with. Just walk straight through the door. Eyes forward, looking for me. Say, 
will do,
 if you understand."

"Will do..."

"Now hang up." The dial tone buzzes in my ear, signaling he's ended the call. Handing the phone back to the receptionist, I tell her. "Um. He said you would buzz me in?"

"Yes." She smiles casually, as if unaware of the significance of that call. "Do you know where you're going?"

I nod nervously, still in disbelief and processing what is happening. When the door beside me buzzes, I do as Creed asked. Keeping my eyes forward, I walk through the door in search of him. With measured steps, I continue forward as instructed. The sound of the door closing behind me barely registers as I keep walking.

The hallway and its contents disappear, and it's like I'm looking through one of the kaleidoscopes I used to play with as a kid. Everything is distorted. Everything but what's in front of me shimmers and twists until it disappears in my periphery.

What the hell am I doing? I should go back and tell Lucas, so he and Nero can make sure I'm not walking into some sort of trap. But then as I come to a dark wooden door with a red exit sign dangling above it, I'm almost brought to my knees when it opens, and there he stands.

Creed.

Alive and in the flesh.

Sad green eyes, identical to Alyssa's, stare back at me in stunned silence. He's dressed in all black. The full beard he had on the surveillance video has been trimmed back, while his dark hair, longer than I've ever seen it, flows in waves from under the baseball hat that hangs low on his face.

It really is him—my husband.

Before I know what's happening, he's pulling me through the door and into the stairwell. His brow glistens with perspiration, and the deep lines on his face show he's under a great deal of stress. At first, it looks like he's going to run and pull me to follow him down the stairs, but then he stops with his back to me. In an instant, he spins around and pins me back against the cement wall. His body slams into mine with a force I barely notice thanks to the lips that devour mine in a needy kiss.

And then he's gone. Before I've recovered, he's pulling me down the steps behind him. Then through a maze of hallways, before exiting through a door that leads out to the back alley. There, standing just outside the door, is a black, shiny motorcycle, with orange accents. Gently but with urgency, he leads me to it, and then he slowly slides a helmet over my head. Taking his black leather jacket off, he wraps it around me, helping my arms in before proceeding to tuck my hair into it before zipping it closed. It's only then that he removes the ball cap that hung low over his face. After tucking it into the back of his black jeans, he quickly slides another helmet over his head.

"Where are you taking me?" I ask, suddenly aware that going with him may not be a good idea. Especially as Lucas waits for me upstairs, completely unaware I'm no longer in the building.

"Somewhere safe, I promise." He climbs onto the front seat of the motorcycle and then looks over at me. "Now get on." So I do. My need for answers outweighs all common sense.

After taking the seat behind him, I wrap my arms around his middle as he kickstarts the bike and revs it. In the next breath, he rolls the throttle, catapulting us forward at a high rate of speed that sends my belly plummeting as fear takes hold. To center myself, I close my eyes and shift my focus to the feel of my husband's body against mine. Now that he's here, I attempt to tap into the connection that once bound us. The bond that once helped put my broken pieces back together. But after three years, the man I'm holding onto for dear life feels like a stranger.

It sends me into a panic, but it's too late. I have no choice but to swallow back the fear and I pray that whatever happens, I'll find a way to make it back home to my girls.

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Author's Note: 

Can you believe it?
 Creed's back and Emilia just left with him without telling Lucas.

Tell me what you think about this chapter. What's your gut telling you? Do you believe her husband is one of the bad guys? 

NEW SCHEDULE!!! CHAPTERS post at 3:00 PM EST on Tuesdays & Thursdays!!!

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Chapter 28

Lucas

Barely 30 seconds since she walked through that door and I’m already questioning why the hell I’m out here when I should be in there with her. I get she’s upset, that she’s hurt because of what happened this morning, but hell, I should have forced the issue instead of letting emotion drive my decision. I’m the security expert, for god’s sake. My job is to keep her safe. Not to allow what’s between us to put her in danger. After years of running missions with civilian consultants in tow, you’d think I would know that by now. Emotions make you second guess. They make you hesitate. They make you dead.

“God damn it,” I grunt under my breath, dropping forward to rest my elbows on my knees to keep them from bouncing nervously.

I have no idea how it even happened. One minute I’m consoling her, and the next I’ve got my hands wrapped around her like she’s fucking mine. My fingers tangled in the back of her head in a possessive move that made me want to claim her once and for all. For a split second, I almost did. One look at those luscious parted lips that clearly wanted to be kissed and I damn near caved. But then I remembered what she said about blaming her husband for what was happening, and I understood the needy look in her eyes. She was looking for an escape. A distraction to help her forget Creed and the mess he dropped at her feet.

As much as I wanted to touch her. To kiss those lips, and explore every inch of her skin, I refuse to reduce what exists between us to a mere diversion. A passing fling. A moment she’d later regret. Something that would ruin our friendship, not to mention any hope of a future. I couldn’t do it. Not to us. Not to myself, for truth be told, I’d never survive giving her up once I had her. Not again. Never again.

“Fuck.” I can’t just sit here. “We should go back there and find her.”

It’s in that instant that Nero jumps to his feet, his head low, nose to the ground, pointing toward the door she walked through. At the sound of the low guttural growl meant only for me to hear, the hairs at the nape of my neck stand on end.

“What is it, boy? What’s happening?”

Jumping to my feet, I follow as he stalks forward. With his nose still on the ground and his tail curved high above his back, I know whatever he’s sensing can’t be good. Especially with Emilia on the other side of that door.

“Sir, can I help you?” The overdone and oversexed receptionist stands, apprehension in her eyes as she realizes we’re not the type of patron she’s used to dealing with.

“I need this door opened immediately.” At my feet, Nero growls again, a small bark leaving his lips as he digs at the crack of the door. It’s his signal to me we need to get through to the other side.

“Sir, you can’t…”

“Open the goddamned door! That’s my client, Emilia Preston, who just walked through. Open this door now, or I will break it the fuck down!” I make the demand, fully expecting to follow through on the threat, but thankfully she has the sense to do as I’ve asked.

As soon as the door opens, I give Nero the lead, following close behind as he runs down the hallway. When he comes to an emergency exit, he signals again. Slowly, I open the heavy wooden door, taking my time to scan for potential threats. Once I confirm it’s safe, I allow Nero to walk through. When he reaches the edge of the steps, he stops. His head hangs low, his body crouched as if preparing to pounce. There, he scans his surroundings. His ears swivel back and forth, listening. Emitting a low growl, he waits for my command.

“Zoek.”

In a flash of dark fur, he’s on the move. He’s so engrossed in following the scent that it’s like he’s forgotten I’m here. Struggling to keep up, I hurry down the steps, following as he runs to the source of what he’s searching for. Her. He has to be searching for Emilia. The gravity of the situation slams into me, and the mistakes of my past come flooding back, as do the faces of all those I’ve let die.

No! This can’t be happening!

At the top of every landing, Nero stops and awaits my command, just as he was trained to do. Thank Christ, I remember. Zoek. The Dutch command for “Track.” God knows I heard Schmidty say it enough during our time in the sandbox. Working alongside Brian Schmidt—his handler—and Nero was some of the best work we’d ever accomplished. Tracking and subduing enemy targets was at the top of activities Nero enjoyed—outside of biting and tearing up the bad guys, of course. But now, as he flies us both down this stairwell, I can’t help but think back to all the instances things went wrong.

Not every rescue leads to a happy ending.

Not every mission succeeds.

Not everyone gets to live on, to see the next mission.

That thought alone sends my gut spiraling, but before I can dwell on it, Nero stops at a back door. His head is down as he signals. Stepping around him, I reach for the gun concealed at my belt. Positioning Nero out of harm’s way, in one swift motion, I force my way out of the door with my gun drawn. My eyes scan up and down the alleyway, noting the surrounding buildings and searching for threats. Movement from the corner of my eye has me spinning around just in time to catch sight of a motorcycle turning the corner.

Two passengers.

“Fuck!”

Coming to the same conclusion, Nero begins to bark and pull frantically on his lead, but it’s too late. By the time we make it to the corner, they’re gone. However, what I do find when I look down at my feet nearly makes my heart stop. Her purse. Her shattered phone lying next to it like it slipped out when it was tossed. It’s confirmation she’s gone. Proof that I failed her, just like I’ve failed everyone I’ve ever cared about. As the panic tries to consume me, I push it away, locking it down, determined this isn’t how it’s going to end.

“Los,” I tell Nero, commanding him to stop, to let it go. “We’re too fucking late.”

Dropping my gun back into its holster, I reach for my phone, pulling it to my ear as it starts to ring.

“She’s gone!”

“Come again?” Ben asks.

“She’s gone. It was a trick. A way to separate us so they could take her.”

“Christ! Where are you?”

“Outside the Marjorie Building in Lakeview. They left on a motorcycle, heading west on Fornance. I need Owen.”

Running back towards the parking garage where my truck is parked, I hear Ben yelling instructions to the team onsite. The pounding in my head grows louder with every step, reminding me that the cure to my demons is somewhere out there being driven further and further away from me.

“You’re on speaker.” Owen’s voice comes through on the line. “I’m tapping into the traffic cameras. Should have something soon.”

“Her earrings. Turn on her earrings. Track her that way.”

“Tried that, brother. Whoever has her is ahead of us. They must have taken them off her. They’re showing in the building with you.”

Stopping in my tracks, I dig through her purse, frantically searching. Fuck. “I have them. They’re in her purse, which they tossed along with her phone. God fucking damn it!”

I lose my shit, my fists flying into the concrete column of the parking structure. The crack and instant pain in my knuckles helps to redirect the helpless energy I feel.

“Holt! Pull your shit together,” Dominick’s voice booms through my ear. “You want to help her? Then get in your truck and be ready. We’ll have coordinates for you shortly.”

Properly reprimanded, I do as I’m told. When I open the door to my truck, Nero jumps in first, sliding over and making himself comfortable on the passenger side. In the quiet of the driver’s seat, I take a few deep breaths, knowing if there’s any hope of finding her, I need to pull myself together. To do right by her, I need to become the soldier I was trained to be. A Navy fucking SEAL. It’s about damn time I remember who I am.

Backing out of the parking spot, I pull the Tahoe towards the exit of the garage.

“I’m at the exit. Which way?”

“One second, someone’s jamming the signal. I’m seeing everything but it’s on a delay. For now, head west down Fornance, then make a right onto Broad Street.”

“What do you mean, the signal’s being jammed?” I ask, not understanding how it’s supposed to work.

“Luc, my man, focus on driving. Let me worry about the rest.”

“Right.” I know fucking better. In the SEALs, every man has a job. At no point do we go around each other’s back questioning what the others are doing. Trusting in the team. Yet another lesson I seemed to have forgotten.

“Something’s off, Ben?” It’s Owen. “Someone’s controlling the cams. Purposely redirecting them as if trying to keep us off the trail.”

“It must be the feds. Who else would have that kind of tech?” Dominick questions.

“Guys! Give me something. I’m on Broad, what’s next?” My question is met with silence, which makes my skin crawl and plunges me into a rage. “Well? Where the fuck do I go next?” I roar, unable to contain my desperation.

“On the left, you’ll see an Autobody shop,” Dominick pipes in. “Park there and await further instructions. Over and out.”

Then just as abruptly, the line goes dead.

THIS IS WHERE BOOK #1 ENDS, but don’t worry because BROKEN HOPE (Broken Redemption Book 2)  is out now and can be found under my profile.  

Author's Note:

Now, tell me what you think of this chapter. Given Lucas's history, can you imagine what he's going through?

Emilia's disappeared with Creed and someone is messing with the surveillance cameras. What do you think is going on, and who do you think is behind it?

NEW SCHEDULE!!! CHAPTERS post at 3:00 PM EST on Tuesdays & Thursdays!!!

For updates on this and future stories, remember to follow me.

What’s Next…

“Hope is being able to see that there is light despite all the darkness.”

• Desmond Tutu

Thank you for walking this journey with me. Broken Vows has truly been a labor of love. More than three years in the making, rewritten and reshaped until Lucas and Emilia’s story finally felt like the truth it was always meant to be. Their love is messy and raw, full of loss, redemption and quiet moments that remind us what it means to keep fighting for those we love— even when it hurts.

If their story resonated, if it made you feel something, I hope you’ll stay a little longer because their journey doesn’t end here.

The next chapter of Lucas and Emilia’s story continues in

Broken Hope (Broken Redemption Series: Lucas & Emilia Book 2)

—now available to read.

BROKEN HOPE

(Broken Redemption Series: Lucas & Emilia Book 2)

I was so damn naive it's no wonder I've ended up here. Kidnapped by the man who promised me forever, just as I'd begun to understand the depths of his betrayal.

It's a sad truth I didn't marry my husband for love. I married him for the life he promised to provide, and if I'm honest with myself, I married him in hopes one day he'd fill the void Lucas—my first love—left behind.

Now after so many years, they're both back. And in my desperation to feel loved, to be wanted and chosen I've walked straight into this trap. All because I forgot life's harshest lesson...

I'm not enough. No matter how much or how fiercely I love, the choice will never be me.

Especially now.

Surrounded by danger and at the mercy of my husband's enemies, I'm forced to face one final bit of truth. 

Much like love, hope is for the weak. 

I was a fool to believe in the vows and promises they made.  

💔 Continue Lucas & Emilia’s story in Broken Hope — available now wherever you’re reading.

Thank you for believing in these characters, for every message, every comment, every moment you’ve spent inside their world. You make it all worth it.

With all my heart,

Ariana ✨

✨ New chapters in ongoing stories land every Tuesday & Thursday at 10:00 AM EST.

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