Chapter Twenty-Three

        Her steps faltered as she entered the stables. The icy air caught in her lungs, making her feel lightheaded.

        “You’re safe.”

        She guessed that Noah’s grasp on her hand was the only reason she hadn’t gone into a full blown panic attack. It was the first time she’d stepped inside the stables since Cody attacked her there. But she was adamant that she reclaim her safe space and insisted that Noah bring her here.

        She dropped her death grip on his hand. “I’m okay. You can go.”

        “Uh, no. I’m not going anywhere.”

        She swallowed. “Please. I need to do this alone.”

        “But you’re not alone. Not ever again.”

        She appreciated the sentiment, but his coddling was not what she needed right now. “That’s sweet, Noah, but please let me do this on my own.”

        He gave her a dubious look before backing away and clearly not lik ing it. Whatever, she didn’t have it in her to soothe him right then, and she was still uneasy about whatever had happened between them hours before. Noah’s declaration of love should have been a joyous occasion. A milestone in their relationship. Instead, it had filled her with dread. She didn’t want that for him. Didn’t want him to be in love with a woman who wasn’t worthy of his affection. A woman, whose first instinct, was to push him away when he got too close. But if she wanted to be on her own, she first had to overcome the things that were holding her back. And she was starting with taking back the things that she loved and lost when Cody ruined them for her.

        She made a pass to the far end of the building, pausing to say hello to each horse as she passed them. They all gave her a snort or whinny in greeting, even Storm, the big stallion who apparently didn’t like anyone but Tally. With each step, she felt lighter. One bad experience with Cody couldn’t erase the comfort that animals brought her. Hawkins land was her second home, and she wouldn’t let him taint it for her.

        She sat on a rustic-looking wooden stool, which was probably as old as the ranch by the looks of it, and let out a relieved breath. She could do this. She could be comfortable here again. Inexplicably, tears began streaming down her cheeks. Whether it was grief for what she’d been through or relief that it didn’t define her, she wasn’t sure, but the tears became heavier as the purge of emotion wracked her body.

        Noah must have been keeping an eye on her from afar, because he was suddenly in her space trying to calm her. “Shh, Emmie, it’s okay. You’re okay.”

        “I...know,” she sniffled, wiping at her face.

        “Guess I’m not the only one looking out for you,” he chuckled, indicating the ball of fur in her lap.

        Larry, the Persian, had jumped into her lap during her crying jag, and Emma Jean   wrapped her arms around the cuddly fluff ball, reveling in the comfort she provided. The cat, who was now head-butting her hand for attention, clearly thought she had a job to do, and that was taking care of Emma Jean. She complied with the demand and stroked Larry’s soft fur from head to tail, pausing to give her a scratch under the chin, and then stroking again.

        “I don’t have any treats, if that’s what you’re after,” she muttered, eliciting a meow and a tail flick from the cat before she gracefully jumped from Emma Jean’s lap and sauntered off.

        “Do you want to stay here a little longer or are you ready to go?” Noah asked gently.

        She only hesitated for a moment. “I’d like to stay.”

        “Okay,” he sighed. “I’ll give you some space then. I’ll be up at the house when you’re ready.”

        She watched him walk away, feeling the tears prick her eyes for a different reason. She was going to have to say goodbye.

***

        When Fiona came in about twenty minutes later to fetch Dandelion, Emma Jean followed the pair next door to the indoor riding ring and watched Fiona put the mare through her paces. Leaning against the rail, she contemplated asking Fiona if she could help. It’d been a long time since she’d been astride a horse, and she didn’t realize until just then how much she truly missed it. She wasn’t the horsewoman Fiona or Tally was, but she’d always enjoyed it.

        “Hey, you.”

        Emma Jean turned slightly to see her best friend since kindergarten bearing a smile and an offering of coffee. “Thanks,” she said taking the travel mug and holding it between both hands.

        Tally tipped her chin in acknowledgment. “You want to ride?”

        “How did you know?” She half-smiled at her friend.

        “The look of longing on your face is pretty pathetic,” Tally shrugged.

        Emma Jean laughed at that. “Yeah, I suppose it would be. It’s been a long time since I’ve ridden.” She chewed her lip. Maybe it wasn’t a good idea to get back on a horse just yet.

        Tally must have sensed her thoughts because she clapped Emma Jean on the shoulder and said, “Just like riding a bike.”

        Fifteen minutes later, they’d both finished their coffee, and Tally was outfitting Heidi for Emma Jean’s foray back into the saddle. Entering the riding ring, Tally helped her mount and talked her through the motions. As the minutes passed, Emma Jean became more comfortable and realized that Tally had been right. It was like riding a bike. The commands came back to her in a flash as she guided Heidi from a trot into a canter, smiling to herself at the feeling of freedom that washed over her.

        She rode back and forth and around the ring until her butt was sore and her thighs ached, which really wasn’t that long at all considering she was out of practice and it didn’t take much. Tally helped her dismount, and the two of them walked Heidi back to the stable.

        “He’s in love with you, you know?” Tally blurted as they removed Heidi’s tack.

        Emma Jean dropped the brush she’d picked up to lather the horse. She hadn’t expected her best friend to blindside her. “Did he tell you that?”

        “He did. Though, he didn’t have to. He’s my brother; I’d already had it figured out.”

        “Oh.”

        “Do you love him?” Tally pressed when Emma Jean didn’t offer up any additional commentary.

        She started to shake her head. “I don’t-” she started, pressing a hand to her forehead in an inane attempt to calm her swirling thoughts. She had intended to say she didn’t know what she felt, but it was quickly obvious that wasn't how Tally interpreted her words.

        Tally turned a disappointed look on her friend but nodded. “Just...please don’t break his heart. If you don’t love him, you should make that clear before he gets in any deeper.” She picked up the saddle and moved into the tack room to clean the equipment and put it away, leaving behind a distraught Emma Jean.

        She hadn’t meant to imply that she didn’t love Noah. Truth was, she didn’t know how she felt at all. She cared about him, obviously. Living with him was easy. She felt safe with him. His touch set her ablaze. But was she in love with him? She didn’t know. And if she was, did she want to be? Because being in love with Cody was the worst mistake she ever made. What if falling in love with Noah was just as bad in a different way? Noah wasn’t abusive but he was overprotective. Would that protectiveness eventually turn to possessiveness or controlling behavior? Cody hadn’t been abusive in the beginning; that was something that had come with time. What if Noah changed in the same way?

        She finished lathering Heidi and threw the brush down with a groan of frustration. She was never going to clear her head this way. If she wasn’t with Noah, she was with people who were rooting for him. Her parents want them together, and it was obvious Tally did too. Who had Emma Jean’s best interests at heart? Looked like she was on her own. With the urge to get away burning in her chest, she strode to the tack room.

        “Hey, would it be possible to borrow your truck?”

        Tally looked up in surprise. “Sure. What’s up?”

        “Nothing,” she hurriedly assured her. “Just something I need to do, and I’d rather not ask…” she trailed off and Tally’s eyes lit with understanding.

        “Okay, sure. The keys are on the hook just inside the kitchen door.”

        “Thanks.”

        She pivoted and jogged to the back door of the farmhouse praying that she wouldn’t run into Noah. She didn’t think she’d get away from him if he insisted on going with her. Thankfully, he and Luke were in the living room in front of the T.V. with Tuck playing on the floor in front of them. She snatched the keys for Tally’s sky blue pickup truck as quietly and quickly as she could. She grabbed her purse from under the front seat of Noah’s SUV and climbed into the cab of the truck, heart pounding and adrenaline pumping. She took a deep breath before turning around and pulling out of the drive. The last thing she needed was to get herself in an accident. Her body had taken enough abuse over the past few weeks.

        Without giving it any thought, she pointed the vehicle in the direction of the highway heading toward Bozeman. She drove in silence for a few miles, but her mind was still jumbled and began to fidget. Turning the radio on to calm herself down, she sang along with the Christmas carols that had been playing practically non stop since the day after Thanksgiving. Twenty minutes into the sixty minute drive to the city, her phone rang. She ignored it, letting it go to voicemail. A minute later she heard the chime that alerted her to a new voicemail message. A minute after that, it dinged with a text message. Sighing, she pulled over and flipped on her hazard lights.

        She had a missed call and a text, both from Noah. In a decision that she would come to regret later, she turned her phone off without checking either message.

***

        Though she was a country girl at heart, something about being in the city soothed her frazzled nerves. It was a different kind of energy than what she was used to in Medicine Wheel. The lazy, small town pace that she usually found comforting could sometimes turn into something stagnant. Being in the bustling city allowed her to reboot and gain a different perspective. Plus, nobody knew her here. She was just another young woman browsing shop windows and enjoying lunch on a Saturday afternoon. Nobody looked at her with pity or derision or whispered about her when they thought she couldn’t hear them even though she could. For the first time in twenty-four hours, she could breathe deeply and exhale all the tension from her body.

        She meandered in and out of shops, not buying anything because she was determined to pinch her pennies. In the interest of preserving what little funds she had, lunch came from the value menu of a fast food place. She was looking at a display of designer dog sweaters in the window of a pet boutique when a reflection in the glass caught her attention. Across the street was a bakery. That must have been where the delectable smells she had picked up were coming from. Crossing the street, she let herself into the bakery called Devour. The sign over the door and a red a nd black retro style logo. It reminded her of something that would have been referred to as futuristic back in the fifties. The inside of the bakery matched that theme, with post-modern soda shop decor and servers who were dressed as pin-up girls.

        The display case held all manner of mouth-watering desserts with names like Luscious Lemon Squares, Sinful Cinnamon Buns, and Carnal Carrot Cake. Emma Jean’s mouth watered. She stepped up the register with half a mind to order one of everything. Maybe two.

        “Hey, there! Welcome to Devour. Can I interest you in a Kinky Key Lime Tarte?”

        “Um. Sure,” she agreed, noting that Kinky Key Lime Tartes were the daily special according to the menu board. “Can I also try a Luscious Lemon Square, please?”

        “Sure thing, darlin’. Will that be all?”

        Emma Jean nodded, pulling out enough cash to cover her treats. She glanced around the small dining area while her desserts were being boxed and noticed an empty table for one in the corner nearest the counter. She took her boxed goodies and sat at the table to indulge.

        She bit into the lemon square and nearly orgasmed on the spot.

        “They tend to get that reaction,” a soft voice said.

        Emma Jean’s cheeks burned with embarrassment at having moaned out loud, but the young woman’s eyes were understanding, even if they were alight with humor. “It’s just...so good. How can you work here and not gain ten pounds each shift?”

        The woman continued to wipe down the table next to Emma Jean’s as she explained. “I try not to sample what I bake. Don’t get me wrong, it’s not easy, but if I ate it all, there’d be nothing left to sell.”

        “You made this?” Emma Jean held the lemon square aloft.

        The woman wiped her hands on her apron before extending one. “I’m Sadie. Owner and master baker.” Her smile was open and beautiful and Emma Jean instantly liked her.

        “Well, it’s nice to meet you, Sadie. I’m Emma Jean, and this is the best thing I’ve ever tasted.”

        Sadie winked. “Wait ‘til you try the Key Lime.” She gave Emma Jean a little wave as she wandered back toward the counter where the girl at the register was starting to get flustered at the influx of people looking for their afternoon pick-me-up.

        Emma Jean sat back in her seat, content just to people-watch as she finished off her lemon square. She was saving the Key Lime for later. She noted the time only when the lights in the little bakery seemed to dim. It was just bright enough to be welcoming but too soft to be harsh on the eyes. The street outside was dark, illuminated in areas by streetlights and passing traffic. She ordered herself a hot chocolate to go, which Sadie served up herself and was equally as divine as the food, and walked back down the street to where she’d parked the truck.

        The drive out of the city was relatively painless considering the pre-holiday traffic. People were out in droves doing their Christmas shopping on top of the fact that it was a weekend, so there were also people who were just out and about because it was a Saturday. Still, she released a sigh of relief once she hit the highway and was able to put the truck on cruise control. She was about halfway back to Medicine Wheel, on a dark stretch of road with no other traffic except for the lone car behind her.

         The squinted against the high beams in her rearview mirror.  “Geez, buddy, turn ‘em down,” she muttered, flipping on her turn signal. If she crossed into the other lane, maybe they’d go around her, and she wouldn’t be blinded. Except, the car didn’t pass her. It followed her.         

        “God, what a jerk.” She crossed back over into the right lane, and again the car followed her.

        Then, for some reason, the car sped up and it was right on her tail. Emma Jean’s heart raced as she stepped on the gas. The other car sped up until she was afraid she was about to be rear-ended, and then it would slow down and drop back only to speed back up again and then drop back. The other driver repeated the cycle and Emma Jean knew she was being fucked with. She thought about calling 911 and reporting an unsafe driver, but her phone was turned off and in the bottom of her purse. If she wanted to make a call, she’d have to pull over, and something told her that wasn’t the safest course of action.

        Instead, she sped up again. The other driver sped up too, only this time enough to travel alongside her. Just when she thought they were going to pass her, they dropped back and got behind her again. In a panic, she laid on the gas, barely glancing at the speedometer and seeing that she was going well over eighty miles per hour. Thankfully, the highway was free of snow, but it was still wet, and now that evening had fallen, it was bound to ice over in areas. Her sudden fear of hitting a patch of black ice had her letting up on the gas just a hair, but a hair was all that was needed for the car behind her to catch up to her fully.

        A tap on her rear bumper was all it took for her to lose control. The truck began to fishtail, and she tried to straighten it out but unintentionally overcorrected, sending the truck spinning. The car behind her was caught by her tailgate and sent careening out of control. The jolt of the impact was enough to distract her as she came upon a curve in the road. She hit the guardrail head-on, lifting the bed of the truck up high enough she thought for sure she would flip. Fortunately, gravity worked in her favor and the back wheels slammed down into the pavement just in time for her to witness the horror of the other car flying through the air before hitting the ground and rolling twice.

        She stared at the other car in shock for a moment before yanking off her seatbelt and frantically searching the cab for her purse. Phone finally in hand and booting up, she climbed out of the truck before calling 911 and walking to the other car. She had to make the other driver was okay. Despite their reckless driving, Emma Jean didn’t have a single bone in her body that would allow her to see someone lying injured without trying to help them. She made it to the car just as the 911 operator answered to hear her scream.