All I Need (Hearts of the South) (10 page)

Her car purred outside his door, and he set the violin too roughly in its case. If she’d been held up, fine, but she couldn’t text or call before leaving the ER? At least he’d picked up that basic courtesy from his mama. He was just pissed enough to tell her he didn’t need her or her shit in his life, too, but he wanted to be reasonable, to give her a chance to explain. The rumble of a pickup and brakes squealing to a stop halted his hand on the door. Frowning, he flicked the blind enough with his finger to be able to see out.

A white Ford F-150 sat crosswise behind Emmett’s own truck. Rob Bennett slammed the driver’s side door and strode around the hood. Savannah shoved open her car door and left it standing wide open. She ran into Bennett’s arms.

He caught her to him in a close embrace, enfolded tightly against him. He lowered his head, mouth near her ear, and Savannah pressed closer, arms about his neck.

Son of a bitch
.

Emmett couldn’t quite process what he was seeing, but the basics were plain enough. Savannah was wrapped up with another guy, another
married
guy at that. They stood in a long embrace, Bennett stroking his hands over her hair, her back, and back up again.

With Bennett’s arm around her, Savannah’s arm about his waist, the pair turned and walked toward Savannah’s apartment, close enough that her hip bumped against his. Bennett lowered his head to brush his mouth across her forehead. Emmett let the blind slat fall into place and stepped back. Fury detonated in his chest, sending heat up his neck and across his shoulders.

He really didn’t need this shit in his life.

Her door closed with a quiet thump, and silence reigned. His imagination did a dandy job of creating scenarios of what was happening next door, Savannah touching Bennett the way she had Emmett, Bennett carrying out what Emmett had called to a halt. The mental images only served to fuel his anger.

The silence beat against his ears.

This time, he was
done
.

* * * * *

Somehow, Savannah held it mostly together until Rob left. Oh, sure, she’d cried on his shoulder, but she held the maelstrom inside until the door closed behind him and his truck rumbled away. Once she was finally, completely, safely alone, she leaned against the door and let the emotions have their way.

The grief and anger slammed over her in a tsunami of memories. She needed
something
to supplant the images, to get the overwhelming smell of blood out of her nostrils. Although she knew the scent wasn’t really on her hands, it remained all she could smell. She flattened her palms against the door and pushed away from the steel-core slab to stagger down the hall to her bedroom.

She smeared tears from her face, nose running, and swung the closet door open. In the dimness, she crouched on the floor and tugged her phone from her pocket. She let it fall to the carpet and pawed through the small stack of storage boxes. She drew the blue floral box onto her lap and removed the lid. With sobs tearing at her chest and throat, she ran her fingertips across the plastic bag and the black T-shirt folded inside it. She lifted the bag and held it close to her chest. Eyes closed, she tried to pull up an image of Gates’s face. In her mind, it blurred and shifted, the sharpness of memory dulled by time and pain.

Still weeping, she peeled apart the zipper strip sealing the bag and lifted it to her face. Nothing, only the sharp aroma of plastic. Panic seared her throat and bloomed into deeper sobs.

Why couldn’t she smell him?

She dragged the shirt free of its plastic casing. That night, the shirt had waited for her, tossed carelessly on the foot of their bed where Gates had discarded it. She’d been able to smell him everywhere then—on their pillows, in their sheets, on this shirt. Desperate to preserve the sensory memory, she’d sealed the shirt away, only taking it out when the grief got too strong.

And now she couldn’t catch any hint of his aroma at all.

Another scent wafted to her, a distinct male note blended with soap.

Emmett
.

Wiping fresh tears from her cheeks, she glanced around, gaze falling on her discarded black dress, crumpled on the floor next to the wall where she’d kicked it off the other night. She lifted it for a moment, Emmett’s smell filling her nostrils. Fury charged through her and she flung the garment out of the closet, onto the bedroom floor. Lifting Gates’s shirt to her face, she moaned into the well-worn fabric. Huge, gulping sobs shook her, her chest so tight she couldn’t breathe beyond the heaving.

Some part of her recognized the anger as irrational, but having Emmett’s sensory imprint present when she couldn’t find Gates’s any longer infuriated her. She didn’t want to examine the implications too closely, any more than she wanted to entertain Amy’s assertion that she and Emmett were already in a relationship.

Because they weren’t. They never would be.

She fumbled for her phone. Through tear-blurred eyes, she scrolled through her saved voicemails until she found the last one that mattered.

“Hey, baby. Looking forward to seeing you tonight.” She listened to Gates’s voice, clutching the shirt that no longer smelled like him. She didn’t bother to wipe away the tears, letting them drip onto her scrubs. “I love you so much, Savannah. I cannot wait for Saturday.”

Voices in the background, a radio call.

The last radio call.

“Listen, baby, I’ve got to go. I’ll see you.”

She buried her face in soft fabric and found no trace of him.

Somehow Emmett’s clean scent lingered in the closet, and she hardened her heart. She would not let him take Gates’s place. No one could do that.

Just as she’d planned, she’d keep him in his designated slot in her life. Friendly company. Sex. That was it.

With slow, painful movements, she resealed Gates’s T-shirt in the plastic bag and packed it away.

Now, his voice, telling her how he loved her, was all she had left.

* * * * *

The following morning, eyes gritty and heavy, she dragged herself through the routine of getting dressed. She’d promised her mother weeks ago she’d attend this baby shower. Life went on, right? Even when she didn’t want it to.

She locked the door behind her and fumbled for her sunglasses. The bright sunlight hurt her eyes. Keys and sunglasses in hand, she turned, and her heart plunged to her feet. Emmett sat in his Adirondack chair, coffee mug on the arm. He gazed across the parking lot, a brooding expression on his face.

Oh, shit. She’d stood him up, and in the emotional backlash, had completely forgotten their plans. She hadn’t even texted him. Remorse joined the lingering stress, making her feel worse.

Keeping him in his place and treating him badly were two different things. He was supposed to be her friend.

“Emmett.” She hefted her bag on her arm and put on what she suspected was a sickly smile. “I’m sorry about last night.”

A brief nod was his only reply. Silence hovered between them.

Something about that nod and the silence bothered her. She frowned. “Emmett.”

He lifted his gaze to hers, the blue depths cold. “I saw you with Rob Bennett.”

Confused, she shrugged. “Yes, he came over for a while. There’d been—”

“I can do the fuck-buddy thing, Savannah, but I won’t be one of a crowd.”

“Excuse me?” Was he saying what she thought he was? A leftover tendril of her anger from the night before stirred to life. Any remorse she’d experienced died a rapid death. “You think—”

“You know he’s married, right?”

“I do.” She opened her mouth to say
to my sister
but the shrill ring of her phone forestalled her. She dug it out of her purse. Amy, probably to hurry her along. Fine. She didn’t want to be involved in this conversation anyway. Let him stew in it. She narrowed her eyes at Emmett. “I have to go.”

“That’s it?” He pushed up from the chair. A scowl twisted his features. “That’s all you have to say to me?”

“Trust me. You don’t want to hear what I have to say.” She spun and stalked to her car.

“Savannah.” She wasn’t sure if that was an entreaty or a command, and she didn’t care.

Screw that noise
. Ignoring him, she sank behind the wheel and slammed the door harder than she should. She backed out of her spot and wheeled around to the entrance. She hooked the left, making sure the turn was smooth and easy. He wasn’t worth squealing tires.

Somehow she managed to keep the fury under control through picking up her sister and listening to Amy chatter all the way to Valdosta. Maybe she looked normal, because beyond asking how she felt, Amy didn’t comment on the previous night’s events, and her little sister knew. Rob told her everything.

Savannah seriously wanted to throw something.

Being on I-75 for the ten miles from Valdosta to Lake Park let her open the throttle, and the speed gave her an outlet. The choked traffic that characterized the Lake Park exit forced her to slow down, and she stayed within the posted limits as they made their way home, through the subdivision full of sprawling ranch homes that fronted the lake or the golf course. Familiar oak trees curved over their parents’ brick ranch, the white shutters and large windows sparkling in the morning sun. She took the turn into the drive too fast, one tire bumping over the curb and her father’s precious cedar ground cover. On a deep inhale, she flexed her hands on the steering wheel and killed the engine.

Amy glanced at her over the roof as they climbed out of the car. “Do you want to tell me what’s bothering you?”

Really? She was asking
now
, when they had to go in that house and play perfect daughters? Savannah slung her bag higher on her shoulder and smiled. “Emmett thinks I’m fucking Rob.”

“What?” Amy’s eyes widened, then mirth filled them. “That is hilarious. Hilarious, but totally eww.”

“I’m glad you find it so entertaining.” Savannah, for one, didn’t see any humor in the situation. “And ‘totally eww’ is the best you can do? I hate when you turn into some Disney Channel preteen princess.”

“Being mean to me isn’t going to solve your problems, Savannah.” Amy regarded her steadily.

“
I
don’t have a problem.” Savannah walked up the path to the front door, her heels clicking against the spotless concrete. “Actually, I think I just got rid of one.”

Amy’s silence behind her was worse than any reply. Savannah punched in the four-digit code on the deadbolt keypad and swung the door open. The immaculate living room was empty, the golf course an emerald oasis beyond the sliding glass doors and the glistening pool. She followed the quiet sound of voices through the formal dining room to the kitchen. Chairs close together, her parents sat at the breakfast table across from her grandmother. The aroma of fresh coffee hovered in the air.

She pasted on the smile that had gotten her all the way to third-runner-up in the Miss Georgia pageant and had helped her win countless smaller pageants with scholarship money attached. “Good morning.”

“Girls.” Her mother’s face lit up, as did her grandmother’s. That welcome lightened the tightness in her chest somewhat. “You’re early.”

“Speeding again, Savannah?” Her father laid aside a medical journal and peered at her over the top of his wire-rims.

“No.” She gripped the handle of her bag, then relaxed her fingers. “Only light traffic.”

“That means we don’t have to rush on the way down to Jasper, then.” Her mother rose, an affectionate hand lingering a moment on their father’s shoulder. Savannah glanced away, the simple act of commitment hitting her the same way Rob’s casual arm around Amy’s shoulders sometimes did, out of nowhere. The emptiness had to go away sooner or later, right? “Mother, I’ll get our bags.”

“How is the hospital takeover going?” Her father’s voice pulled her attention back, and she turned to find her grandmother’s insightful gaze on her. The love and concern in that expression made her want to weep, to climb in Grandmother’s lap like she was a little girl again.

“Very well.” She lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “The place is horribly short in terms of nursing staff, but the ones there are excellent.”

“You know you always have a place with me.”

She almost smiled. He never missed an opportunity to remind her of that, and truly, she knew it indicated his pride in her. But work with him every day?

There wasn’t enough alcohol in the world.

“James, leave the girl alone.” Grandmother shook her head at him. “You’d both be miserable, and she’s doing good work in that ER.”

“Amy, how about Robert’s new position? You could have brought him along today, you know. We could have played a round or two.”

Lord bless him, he did try.

Her phone buzzed in her purse, and she let Amy’s bright voice wash over her. She tugged it free and glanced at the screen.

Need to talk.

Oh, hell no. They did not. She dropped the rectangle back in its slot. Emmett Beck had said quite enough to her for one day. ERs were hotbeds of gossip and intrigue. Her name had been linked, erroneously, more than once to this doctor, that nurse, those cops. Not once had Gates entertained not trusting her.