Chapter 19

The front doorsnicked closed behind him with a finality he wasn't prepared to accept.

Dan paused, a tumult of emotions wrestling within him. His hand lingered on the door handle, the metal cool and unyielding beneath his fingers. He was conflicted, torn between the urge to stay and support Emma and the reluctance to overstep boundaries she might not be ready to break.

He turned away, his footsteps hesitant as he moved toward his truck. The gravel crunched under his boots, each step echoing the turmoil in his heart. He was reluctant to leave, the image of Emma"s pained expression imprinted in his mind. He felt her distance like a physical barrier, an invisible wall she had erected to protect her vulnerabilities.

But as he reached his truck, parked obstructively behind her car, a spark of determination ignited within him. He wouldn"t—he couldn"t—just walk away. He leaned against his vehicle, arms crossed over his chest, his gaze fixed on the door through which he had just exited. A plan began to form, a resolve to stand by her, to be the unwavering presence she needed even if she wasn"t ready to accept it.

A grin broke through his contemplative demeanor, a sense of satisfaction settling in. Yes, he would wait. He would be there when she emerged, ready to offer whatever support she would allow. He knew the road ahead would be fraught with challenges, but he was determined to walk it with her, every step of the way. They'd wasted enough time pussyfooting around. While the gentleman in him urged him to give her time and space, the Dom in him demanded he'd take control and fixed the situation.

He stuffed his hands in his pockets and inhaled the crisp morning air.

Dan"s decision solidified as he stood between their cars, a silent sentinel in the quiet morning. He would not abandon her to face her struggles alone. Whatever Emma was going through, whatever fears or pains haunted her, he would face them with her. No matter what the future held, his place was by her side.

* * *

When Dan finally left, the soft click of the door echoing in the empty space, Emma sank against the counter, her body wracked with silent sobs. The morning had promised a new level of closeness, a shared vulnerability that could have brought them closer. Instead, it ended with a chasm of misunderstanding and missed connections, leaving her more isolated than ever. In her silence, she'd pushed away the one person who offered her a lifeline, and now, she was truly alone, her heart aching with a loss she wasn"t sure she could ever recover from. She closed her eyes, and her lips wobbled.

The weight of the phone in her hand reminded her of the phone call and the reason she"d frozen Dan out.

Emma"s hands fumbled with her purse, keys, and coat in a frantic dance of preparation. She half-stumbled into her shoes, battling with stubborn laces that refused to cooperate. After a brief struggle, she surrendered, tucking the rebellious laces under her foot, and pressing them against the worn leather.

As she stepped outside, the cool bite of the morning air slapped her cheeks, emphasizing the heated turmoil inside. The sight of Dan"s truck, an immovable beast blocking her car, made her heart skip. And there he was, Dan, leaning casually against the hood, his posture relaxed yet somehow vigilant, like a guardian of the dawn.

His presence, a silent mix of strength and concern, sent a cascade of emotions through her. Relief, frustration, and an inexplicable sense of safety swirled inside, colliding and coalescing into a tumultuous storm. She clutched her bag tighter, her knuckles whitening, as she took a hesitant step toward him.

A fragile flicker of hope sparked within her, a delicate flame amidst the shadows of her despair. Dan hadn"t abandoned her; he stood firm, a testament to unspoken promises and unyielding support. Emma"s breath shuddered out, her gaze lifting to meet his, a silent acknowledgment passing between them.

Emma wrapped her arms around her waist. "I thought you left," she murmured, her voice a brittle whisper against the morning chill.

Dan pushed off from the truck, his movements deliberate. "I figured it would be better if I stayed around," he said, his voice a low rumble of reassurance.

Emma"s scoff was a reflex, a defense mechanism against the raw vulnerability she felt. "Are you a masochist?" she quipped, attempting to lighten the tension that crackled in the air.

A flicker of something—amusement, perhaps, or understanding—danced briefly in his eyes. "Hardly," he replied, his arm finding its way around her shoulders, a comforting weight. "I don"t want to barge into your business, but at least I can make sure you don"t have to drive yourself. Do you need to go to the hospital?"

Her eyes widened, the abrupt offer jolting her. "Um, no," she stammered, then took a deep breath, steadying herself. "We need to go to the Brookside Care Facility," she said, her voice firmer now. "I"ll explain in the car."

Dan nodded, his arm tightening slightly around her, guiding her toward the passenger side of his truck. As she settled in, the warmth of his truck enveloping her, Emma realized that for the first time in a long while, she wasn"t facing the chaos alone.

As they pulled away from her home, the silence in the truck was a living entity, pulsating with the unspoken words between them. Dan"s fingers moved deftly over the navigation system, entering the address with an efficiency that spoke of a man used to taking charge. But as they exited the neighborhood, Emma"s voice broke through the stillness, tentative yet determined.

"I"m an only child, and my parents were teachers," she began, her gaze fixed on the passing scenery. "They loved each other and me very much. I had a happy childhood." She paused, her breath hitching slightly as she gathered the shards of her past. "When I was in my second year of med school, my mom was killed during a school shooting here in Missoula. It was a year before Columbine, and it barely made the news. She died before the paramedics even got to the school."

Dan"s hands tightened on the steering wheel, the muscles in his jaw working silently. His eyes, focused on the road, were clouded with a storm of emotions. The weight of her revelation pressed down on them both, a shared burden in the confined space of the truck.

"My dad wasn"t at the school that day. He was on a field trip and returned to find the school overrun with first responders and students in shock." Her voice cracked, a small, vulnerable sound in the vastness of her loss.

Dan"s response was a soft exhale, a muted sound that carried more empathy than words could. "I"m sorry for your loss," he murmured, his voice rough around the edges. He reached out, his hand enveloping hers, a gesture of solidarity and comfort.

He lifted her hand to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss to her fingers before settling her hand in his lap, maintaining the connection as he continued to drive with his other hand. The simple act, so full of understanding and support, wrapped around Emma like a blanket, a small beacon of light in the darkness of her memories.

Emma"s voice faltered, each word heavier than the last, laden with the weight of years of sorrow and loss. "My dad never really recovered," she whispered, her breath hitching as she fought the swell of emotions. Her hands, clenched in her lap, trembled slightly. "He more or less went through the motions after that. He still loved me, of course, but... he just loved her more."

She paused, a shuddering breath escaping her lips as she blinked back tears that refused to be tamed. "For about a decade, he remained partly the father I remembered, but then... then the signs started." Her voice broke as she recounted the small, heart-wrenching changes: forgotten conversations, misplaced belongings, the confusion in his eyes over familiar routines.

"Eight years ago," she continued, her voice barely a whisper, "he got diagnosed with Alzheimer"s disease." The words hung in the air, a testament to the relentless march of time and the cruelty of a condition that stole memories and eroded the essence of a loved one. "He"s been living at Brookside Care Facility for almost four years now."

Tears, unbidden and relentless, streamed down her cheeks, each one a silent echo of her pain. "And each time I visit, he"ll ask for my mother," she said, her voice choked with grief. She turned her gaze to the side window, staring at the world blurring past, her reflection a ghostly image of anguish. "Or sometimes, he thinks I"m her."

In the passenger seat of Dan"s truck, surrounded by the steady hum of the engine and the soft rustle of the morning, Emma felt the walls she"d built around her heart tremble. The relentless ache of watching her father fade away, the helplessness, the sorrow—it all spilled out, an open wound that had never truly healed.

As they continued toward the care facility, the miles unspooling beneath them, Emma felt a shift within her. The past, with its pain and shadows, was still a part of her, but Dan"s silent vow of presence promised a strength she hadn"t known she needed. It was a promise she didn"t have to face the road ahead alone.