to forget about Darren, not to dwell on it, not to think of it. I
wasn't supposed to worry about what he was doing to his own life,
either. Then Drew was going to take care of it all. I was too naive to
handle my finances, my friends, my work. And I was so bloody used to
being pointed in a direction, I just went. Now I'm supposed to forget
all of that, just forget it, and let you click into place so I'm
protected again."
"Is that why you think I'm here?"
She turned back. "Isn't it?"
"Maybe that's part of it." He blew out smoke, then deliberately crushed
out his cigarette. "It's hard to be in love with someone and not want
to protect them. But let's just back up, okay? I don't want you to
forget about what happened between you and Latimer. I want you to be
able to live with it, but I hope to Christ you never forget it."
(ti won't."
"Neither will l." He stood then to cross to her. Outside the rain was
whipped by the wind, battering windows. "I'll remember everything he
did to you. And there'll be times when I'll wish he was still alive so
I could kill him myself. But I'll also remember that you pulled
yourself out of it. You took a stand, and you survived. Weak?" He
lifted a fingertip to trace the faint scar under her jawline. "Do you
really believe I think you're weak? I saw what he did to you that day.
I'll always be able to see it. You didn't let him plow you under,
Emma."
"No, and I won't let anyone take control of my life again."
"I'm not your father." He spit out the words as he gripped her
shoulders. "And I'm not Latimer. I don't want to control your life, I
just want to be part of it."
"I don't know what I want." She lifted her hands to cover his. "I keep
coming back to you, and it's frightening because I can't stop. I don't
want to need you this way."
"Dammit, Emma-" When the phone rang, he swore again.
"It's for you," she said, holding out the receiver.
"Yeah?" He picked up his cigarettes, then paused. "Where? twenty
minutes," he said and hung up. "I've got to go." He was already pulling
on his jeans.
She only nodded. Someone was dead. She could see it on his face.
"We're not finished here, Emma."
"No."
He shouldered on his gun. "I'll be back as soon as I can."
"Michael." She didn't know what she wanted to say. Instead, she went
with instinct and put her arms around him. "Goodbye."
She couldn't settle once he'd gone. The rain was coming in sheets now.
She could barely see the ocean through it, but she could hear the waves
crashing. She found it soothing, the gray light, the sound of water. It
was cool enough to start a fire from the stack of split oak in
the woodbox. Once it was blazing, she called the airport to arrange for
her luggage to be delivered.
It occurred to her that it was the first time she was completely alone
in the house, a house she was considering making her own. After brewing