CHAPTER 22
He’d tried her phone three times throughout the afternoon. Radio silence.
It was his own fault, too. He’d completely mishandled her. Mishandled himself. But she could at least answer the phone. This time he’d leave a message. He hated leaving voice messages. But what else could he do if she refused to take his call? At least she’d know he was sorry.
If she listened to it.
He fought a wave of panic. She’d listen to it. She had to. He pressed call again. Still no answer. Only her professional greeting. Cool and calm and so unlike the firebrand she was when they were together. “Emma, Em. It’s me. Sterling. Can we talk? Please? I owe you an apology. And I’d like the chance to make it in person. Any chance you can come over this evening? I’ll make a fire and we can talk.” Words piled up in his mouth. Important words. Scary words. Ready to tumble out if he let them. He ended the call and resumed his pacing.
The remainder of the afternoon crawled by. He saddled Bingo and rode the fence lines checking for broken spots. In the far north pasture, he pulled Bingo to a halt and slid off, fighting to pull a giant dead branch of red cedar off the fencing. Who knew what storm had carried it? But this was coming home as fuel for his fire pit. As he pulled it loose, the branch snapped back scraping across his cheek.
“Ouch. Goddammit.”
Stomping back to Bingo, he grabbed a length of rope from inside the saddle bag that held his tools. He wound the rope around the base of the branch then walked back to Bingo and settled himself in the saddle. He dragged that damn branch all the way home. Past the tiny houses that would soon house their first group of veterans. Cash’s and Kate’s were now finished and stood apart from the others. The materials for the remaining homes sat on pallets in their respective areas, ready for the construction crews after the weekend’s tournament.
He refrained from pulling his phone from his coat pocket. Emma hadn’t called. He’d have felt the vibrations. Dropping the rope by his porch, he rode into the barn and took his time currying and caring for Bingo. “What is it with you ladies?” he asked as he scratched her cheek. “Can’t figure any of you out.”
Bingo dropped her head, pricking her ears forward, as if she had something to say. Giving her a final pat, he pulled out his phone. Even he knew enough to know never to apologize to a woman via text. But she gave him no choice. He wasn’t about to let her go to bed angry. Or go to bed. He had better plans for her.
“You think make-up sex would help, Bingo?” Sterling grinned at the thought. Maybe he’d give her a bath. Better yet, a shower, where they both could enjoy the soap and the bubbles. His cock rose to half-mast just thinking about all the naughty and delightful things they could do underneath a spray of hot water. His thumb hovered over the keyboard, heart galloping. He started typing before he lost his nerve.
S: I don’t want to ruin this weekend. Please come over so I can grovel in person?
He shoved the phone into his pocket and walked out of the barn. If she was going to give him the cold shoulder, there was nothing he could do about it. As he stepped foot on the porch, his phone buzzed.
E: What time?
He gave a fist pump and fired off a quick reply.
S: Anytime you’re ready to talk.
A moment later his phone buzzed again.
E: I’m wrapping up the final details for tomorrow’s game. How about 7?
That sounded perfect. The sun would be setting about then, thanks to Daylight Savings. And he’d bet his last dollar she’d be hungry. She probably hadn’t had a bite to eat all day. An idea formed in his head.
S: I’ll throw some steaks on the grill.
E: Sounds great <3
His heart tripped at the emoji. She couldn’t be that upset if she was adding heart emojis could she? Still. He wanted this night to be different. More… real. And he had just enough time to make it perfect.
When Emma’s car crunched across the gravel two hours later, he was ready. His heartbeat quickened as her boots hit the steps to the door. He opened it before she had a chance to knock and the air whooshed out of his chest at the sight of her.
She’d changed her clothes. Her hair hung in loose waves down her shoulders, just the way he liked it. She’d put on a blue sweater with a wide vee neck that brought out her eyes and clung to her curves. From the looks of it, it was as soft as a baby’s cheek. All the words he’d planned, the apology speech, the surprise on the back patio, all of it, flew from his head. “Come here,” he said gruffly as he pulled her into an embrace and tenderly kissed her forehead. “I’m sorry. I’ve been an ass. Please accept my apology.”
She gasped, eyes widening, making a sound of surprise in the back of her throat as she traced a finger over the scratch on his cheek. “Are you okay? What happened?”
“Just a scratch. And you look stunning.”
“Thank you,” she murmured.
“Come in? I have something to show you.” He trailed a hand down her arm to lace his fingers with hers as he pulled her through the office and into the house. As he led her through the kitchen and out the back door, the smell of grilling meat wafted over them.
“Mmmm. I’m hungry,” she said eagerly, then stopped as she took in the scene he’d set. “You bought wine?”
He stepped to the tiny table between two Adirondack chairs, and handed her a stemless globe filled with red liquid. “I thought it might be better for groveling.”
She huffed out a laugh. “You didn’t have to do this.”
He absolutely had to do it. He needed to show her what he always seemed to mess up when words were involved. “I also noticed you only have wine at your apartment, even though you usually drink beer at the Trading Post.”
She cocked her head, clearly surprised. “Beggars can’t be choosers. And I like beer too.”
“But you like wine better.”
She nodded. “I do.”
He gestured to the chair. “Sit. Steaks are almost done.”
She sat, then swiveled to look up at him. “Why are you doing this?”
He leaned to place a kiss on her forehead. “Talk later. For now, just enjoy the fire.” The difficult explanations would be easier on a full stomach in front of the fire. A knot of fear at the pain he knew was coming formed, sharp and tight in his chest. If he could enjoy the peace a little longer, he would. It was a perfect spring night. The air was soft, and smelled like fresh dirt and mown grass. But there was still enough chill in the air that a fire offered the perfect atmosphere. He plated the steaks, topped off their wine, and sat down next to her. Perching their plates on their knees, they ate in an easy silence as the night peepers began their chorus.
Emma put down her fork. “Thank you for dinner. Every part of it has been amazing. But you’re making me nervous. All this…” she swept her hand around, “romance, is unlike you. Now will you tell me what’s going on?” She braced an elbow on the arm, propping her chin on her hand. Eyes round and serious.
That she thought romance was unlike him, ate at him. Regret surged through him. He should have sent her flowers after he’d spent the weekend with her in Kansas City. Johnny had sent Macey flowers all the time. So much so, that he and Jason had teased him mercilessly. But their teasing hadn’t been enough to stop him. He’d shrugged it off, smiled enigmatically, and said just you wait. And now Sterling knew what he meant by that. But the longing sparred with the fear. Twisted and danced inside him until he couldn’t tell which was way up. What direction to move. It paralyzed him.
He stared into the fire. Tracing one flicker after another. Letting the movement hypnotize him. “Johnny was our best friend. He and Jason and I met during Beast, and we’ve been inseparable ever since. Johnny met Macey when we were Firsties, and right away, he knew she was the one. He came to us the next day and told us then he was going to marry her.”
“That’s sweet.”
Sterling shook his head. “It really wasn’t. Johnny was like a man possessed. He couldn’t concentrate, talked of nothing but how amazing Macey was. Burned up the phone lines talking to her. He wrote her every day, and sent flowers. All the goddamned time. It was annoying as shit. But then we met her. And we understood why.”
“She’s lovely.”
Sterling’s head snapped up at the note of resignation in her voice. “She is lovely. The nicest person you’ll ever meet. It’s impossible not to love her.” He reached out for Emma’s hand. “But my interest in her is only brotherly.” He stroked her soft skin with his thumb. “Jason and I made a pact to look after her, and to be the men in Sophie’s life.”
Emma made a sound in the back of her throat and dropped her head. “She’s very lucky,” she said thickly.
Sterling blew out a breath, as a sharp pain lodged in his sternum. “I’m doing a piss-poor job of explaining myself. We’re not doing that because we think that’s what Johnny would want us to do. Be there because he couldn’t be. We’re doing it – I’m doing it because I’m pissed as hell that Johnny’s not here to finish what he started.” His voice rose as the pent-up anger and hurt boiled over. “He fucking bailed on the two women he said he loved more than anything. He promised Macey forever, and brought a child into the world, and then he quit them.” White hot anger blazed through him and he shook with the intensity of it. “He quit them,” he said raggedly, then dropped his head into his hands. “I don’t understand how he could quit them and leave us to pick up the pieces.”
The pain hollowed his stomach, rising to close off his throat. He gulped in air, trying to regain some control. “He was one of my best friends.” His vision blurred. “And I should have done more to help him.” He sniffed hard through his nose, trying to grab back the emotions. Stuff them back inside. But they were having none of that. “I don’t understand how he could leave his wife and daughter. How he could give up on them. On us. Me and Jason.”
He stood, pacing around the fire. “We had a pact.” He kicked a rock at the edge of the fire pit. “We were in this together to the very end.” Hot tears wet his eyes and he kicked the stone again.
“Sterling?”
He heard the concern in her voice, but he was on a roll, anger spewing out of him with volcanic force. He stalked back to where she was perched on the chair and he bent over the chair next to her. “And you want to know why I didn’t tell you? Why I never brought it up?” He dragged the chair out of the circle of warmth and threw it into the yard. “Because I’m a man.” He followed the chair and gave it a mighty kick, splintering the back. He dimly registered a squeak from Emma but he’d unleashed the fury, letting it take over. “I’m a goddamned soldier and we don’t. Fucking. Cry.” He punctuated each word with another kick, destroying the chair. His voice was raw. Gravelly. “We soldier on and we get the fucking job done no matter what.”
He turned, and seeing tear-stained cheeks glistening in the firelight, turned away again. “And I. Can’t. Handle this,” he bellowed, throat on fire. His knees gave way and he roared to the sky. “Why’d you quit us Johnny? What gave you the right?” He fell forward, pounding his palm into the ground, not feeling the sharp pebbles biting his skin. “Fuck you, man,” he sobbed as the tears erupted. His lungs burned. “Fuck you,” he barked, continuing to pound the dirt.
And then her hands on his shoulders. “Hush, Sterling. It’s okay. It’s going to be okay.”
“It’s not,” he bawled. “What if I turn into him? What if I go off the rails and I do what he did?” He shook his head, leaning back on his heels.
Her hand stayed on his back, rubbing in concentric circles. “You’re not going to. You’re not Johnny.”
“I don’t believe that.” He wiped his face on his arm. Calm slowly seeping in where the anger had burned.
Emma’s voice acted like a cooling balm. “I remember feeling so angry when my father died. And he was horrible. My brothers don’t even refer to him as dad.”
Sterling didn’t remember much about Jake Sinclaire. They’d been freshman when he’d died, and he’d been too caught up in girls and football to pay much attention to the gossip his parents discussed. “I was angry for how my mother kept giving him chances he didn’t deserve. Angry when he left us. Angry that my mother got sick and left us too, after the hard life she’d had. I was so mad at the injustice of it all, I vowed I’d never be like either of them. And if you don’t want to end up like Johnny, you won’t.”
“It’s not that simple, Emma. You know that.”
She stood and reached for a section of the splintered chair. Then she walked to the fire and tossed it on the flames. The fire hissed and sprang higher in a shower of sparks.
“There are no guarantees in life. I understand that.” She turned and looked at him full-on. “But I’d never bet against you, Sterling. Not in a million years.”