12. Emery

12

EMERY

"What are you doing here? I told you that we had it handled," Tara says as soon as I walk in the front doors of the Sugar Glaze Bakery.

It's been four days since Nash was shot, and I left him at home making him promise that he would stay on the couch until I got back. But I had to get out of there.

Slowly I've been letting my guard down, and how could I not, when Nash is saying and doing everything right? He hasn't touched me again like he did that first night, but he still kisses me and holds my hand every chance he gets. It’s slowly driving me mad, and more and more I want to say hell with protecting my heart and go for it.

I shrug my shoulders at Tara. "I just wanted to come in and check on things."

She puts her hand on her hip, obviously seeing right through me. "No, you just wanted to get away from your hot husband."

I roll my eyes. "First of all, he’s not my husband."

She barks out a laugh. “Have you told him that? Because he sure follows you around with those big puppy dog eyes like he wants to be.”

I close my eyes and try to clear my head. “I just needed a break.”

That seems to alarm her. "Is everything okay? I thought Nash was all right."

I walk behind the counter. "Yes, everything is all right, and Nash is going to be okay. I just don't know. All these old feelings..."

Tara has always been one to say it exactly as it is. "They're not old feelings, Emery. You've felt them this whole time. It may have taken him a while to get his shit together, but I really think he's trying. He's been stalking your ass for the last year. You should at least give him a chance."

I shake my head. "It's not that. He's getting better. His arm is good. His vision and head is good. He's going to be leaving soon."

Tara doesn't even hesitate in her response. "Did he tell you that?"

I shake my head. "I mean, no, he didn't say that, but of course that's what's going to happen. As soon as he's healed, he's going to go back on his missions and probably get hurt again.” I throw my hands up in the air. “I can't do this."

Tara comes to me and grabs on to my hand and holds it tightly. "Tell him that. He needs to hear you say that."

I look her in the eye. "And what? He won't go and then resent me for it? No, thanks. I'll just keep my guard up and bide my time until he leaves again and then pick up the pieces of my broken heart... AGAIN."

Tara pulls me in and hugs me. "I think he's going to surprise you this time."

I don't even want to let myself hope. I pull back and look at the bakery. Everything is clean, and it doesn’t even look like they’ve missed me. Changing the subject, I ask her, "So what have I missed here? How are you and Mark doing?"

Mark is her boyfriend, and I hate to say it, but he’s not the best. I’m just trying to be supportive.

Tara rolls her eyes. "I broke up with Mark." When I start to tell her I'm sorry, she stops me and holds her hand up. "No, it's fine. It was for the best."

It’s my turn to pull her in for a hug. “Are you okay?”

She nods. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

In the next instant, there’s the sound of motorcycles, and they all seem to stop outside the bakery. “What in the world?”

Becca comes from the back of the bakery and is surprised when she sees me standing there. “Oh hey, Emery.” And then she looks at Tara. “Really, you couldn’t find some boring boy that likes to hang out at the bakery? Instead, you find some biker from a GANG that can’t seem to get enough of your strawberry pie.”

I look between Becca and Tara. “What is she talking about?”

Becca throws me an apron. “Oh, just wait and see. It’s good you’re here. We can use you for the next 20-30 minutes. They’ve been wiping us out.”

I barely get the apron tied before around fifteen bikers come in the front door. I know I’m staring, but this is definitely something different for Whiskey Run.

The first man walks straight toward Tara. “How’s it going, Mama?”

I look at Becca and mouth Mama? to her with my mouth hanging open.

Becca nods and then mouths back, Watch .

Tara hands a slice of strawberry pie to the man and then walks away. The dark-haired man watches her, obviously liking what he sees. “That’s okay, Mama. You’re going to give in eventually 'cause me and you are meant to be.”

Tara rolls her eyes. “In your dreams, biker boy.”

He laughs good-naturedly. “You’re right about that.”

We spend the next half hour dishing out desserts to the bikers and then they get some to go. I can’t help but watch the way the one they call Jason keeps watching Tara. It’s obvious he’s hooked, and she’s trying to act as if she’s not interested at all, but I know her... she’s definitely into him.

When they leave and Jason promises to see Tara tomorrow, I whirl around. “What in the world was that?”

Becca laughs. “That is the new biker gang in town.”

“Club. They’re not a gang. They’re a club,” Tara corrects her.

Becca just laughs some more. “Yeah, okay, that’s the new biker club, and Tara here seems to have caught the eye of one of them. They’ve came in every day, order everything we have, and they even clean up after themselves. We’ve had to bake extra and even keep some stuff stored in the back just to make it through the evenings.”

I look at Tara. “Jason seems nice. He definitely doesn’t like any of his friends looking at you.”

She blushes. “I’m not interested.”

I don’t believe her for a minute. We spend the next half hour with Tara filling me in on special orders and events. I could spend the rest of the afternoon here catching up on paperwork, but I'm anxious to get back to Nash.

I walk out the door, and I tell Tara to call me if she needs anything. I stop at the store and then go back home, and I'm surprised when I get there that Nash has fixed dinner. The table is set with lit candles and a chilled bottle of wine. I set down the small bag of groceries with just the staples of bread and milk.

"You fixed dinner," I said, surprised.

He grabs the bag and unloads the groceries. "Yeah, but don't get too excited. It's only spaghetti."

I look at him curiously. "I love spaghetti, especially your spaghetti."

He smiles at that. "I know you do."

I can feel the butterflies in my stomach as he leads me over to the table. I drink a glass of wine, and I can feel myself loosening up around him. We talk about any and everything. Well, everything except for past hurts. It seems as if we both try to avoid anything that will bring that up.

I have to keep reminding myself that Nash and I are divorced, that this probably won't go anywhere, but the more we sit here and laugh, the harder that is to do. When we finish eating, he all but pushes me out of the kitchen and tells me to relax in the living room, he's going to clean up.

"You're the one that's hurt. Let me clean up."

He shakes his head, stopping me from going into the kitchen. “I feel great. No headaches, vision is good. I’m good.”

I tilt my head and know he’s telling the truth but also knowing it’s not right for him to cook and have to clean up. "Nash, I'm serious."

He still doesn't let me in. "I got this. Let me do this. I'll be in in a minute."

I go and sit down, and I feel a little weird sitting on the couch as he cleans up. I can hear the dishwasher going, and he joins me a second later, two glasses of wine in his hands. He brings one to me and then sits next to me on the couch.

"Talk to me," he says.

I shrug and take a sip of the wine before setting it on the coaster on the table. "What do you want to talk about?"

He reaches for my hand and laces our fingers together. "For starters why you ran out of here this afternoon."

I tense up, already not liking where this conversation is heading. "I just needed to check on the bakery."

He smiles at me. "I know you, Emery. There was more to it than that."

And I realize I just need to put it all out in the open, lay it all out for him. "I needed to put some distance between us. It would be so easy to get used to this, to having you around like this. I needed to get my head back on right."

He sighs, "I regret all of the missions that I left you to go on. If I could go back and change the way I did things, I would. I just need to know that it's not too late to change things and to make things right."

I shake my head. "I don't know, Nash. I can't ask you... I just don't know." All I can think about is just how unbearable it was without him. Would I rather have him half the time than not at all? I'm second-guessing everything now, and it seems like everything is jumbling around in my head.

"Talk to me," he says.

I open my mouth, but then close it.

He leans toward me, and his hand goes to my shoulder and squeezes me there. "What do you want, Emery? If you could have anything, what would that be?"

Without even thinking about it, I blurt out the first thing that comes into my head. "A baby."