All I Need (Hearts of the South) (12 page)

“Yeah.” Emmett glared as Bennett turned to face him. “What are you?”

“Her brother-in-law. She’s Amy’s sister and a royal pain in my ass, but I love her anyway.”

“
Fuck
.” The extent of his jealous stupidity exploded in his brain. God, he might throw up.

“Man, you’re screwed. Amy was blowing up my phone about this earlier. Savannah is pissed, and that woman can hold a grudge.” Bennett dropped his tape measure and tools in the small tool bag. He lifted an eyebrow at Emmett. “Did she let you have it with both barrels?”

“No.” Now he was miserable for a completely different reason. Damn it, he’d thought he’d outgrown being stubborn and hotheaded. Why didn’t he think before he let the angry words have their way? “She walked off.”

“Oh, you’re definitely screwed then. She’s stewing and that only makes it worse.”

“Fuuuuck.” He groaned and scrubbed a hand over his face. She was never going to have anything to do with him again and he didn’t know how to—

This was not the way a guy acted over a woman who was simply a friend.

When had he gotten this far in over his head? And he’d totally screwed everything up.

“
Son of a bitch
.”

“You might want to sit down before you fall down. And can you tone down the language? If Christopher picks up one of those words, I’ll be the one in trouble.” Troy Lee chuckled, a wry, sympathetic sound. “Major revelation there, buddy?”

Emmett lowered himself onto one end of the couch. He pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’m so screwed.”

“Already told you that.” Bennett stowed his tool bag in the front closet.

“Fill us in.” Clark grabbed a handful of chips. “I’m lost.”

“They had this brilliantly asinine plan to be friends with benefits.” Bennett took the other end of the couch. He shook his head, expression disgusted. “I don’t know what Savannah was thinking. She knows she’s not cut out for that.”

Brows knitted in confusion, Emmett glanced at him. She’d been pretty cold about the whole thing from the beginning. “Really?”

“Yeah.” Bennett propped his bare feet on the coffee table. “Don’t let that tough exterior fool you. Amy’s harder than she is.”

“She was pretty tough in that exam room last night.” Clark spoke around a potato chip. “Man, Beau was in bad shape, and I was freaking out and didn’t want to show it. She had it all together though.”

“You didn’t see her after.” Bennett’s somber observation speared Emmett. “She did not have it all together.”

He pinched the bridge of his nose once more. Yeah. She was definitely going to be done with him after this. Sheesh, he was
stupid
.

“Em, quit beating yourself up.” Clark patted his knee. “It’s done, and you can’t undo it.”

“Yeah.” He rested his head on the plush couch back and stared at the ceiling.

“He’s right.” Bennett propped his hands behind his head. His cell buzzed, and he tugged it from his pocket and tapped out a reply to a text. “You might better start formulating a plan for what you’re going to say when she gets here, though. They just left Valdosta.”

“Shit.”

“Hey, what did I tell you about the language?” Troy Lee curved a hand over Christopher’s ear. “I don’t need your help getting in the doghouse, okay? I seem to manage that really well on my own lately.”

Bennett snorted. “Because you’re stupid. Who compares their wife to a Cadillac?”

“What?” Clark stared at Troy Lee, horrified. “Dude, even I know not to say something like that to a woman.”

“It wasn’t like that.” A hint of uncharacteristic desperation entered Troy Lee’s voice. Christopher stirred against his chest, and Troy Lee shifted the little boy onto his shoulder to pat his back.

“Tell us what it was like,” Clark said. He gestured at Emmett. “Maybe it’ll make him feel better. Or we can help you figure a way out of it.”

“Oh, there’s no getting out of this one.” Bennett’s chuckle rumbled deep from his chest.

Troy Lee flipped him off. “Angel’s been exhausted lately and she’s stressing over not losing the baby weight yet. I couldn’t care less, right—I like her curvy. I suggested we work out together, maybe get a gym membership because—”

“You’re an idiot.” Clark laughed.

“—because that might help with the fatigue and we’d be spending some time together without the kids.” Troy Lee rubbed a hand over his jaw. “She got mad and said something about being surrounded by gym bunnies with zero body fat. I pointed out they were like race cars, built for speed and show, and she was more like a Caddy, built for performance and comfort. I doubt she’s said three words to me in the last two days, and they weren’t ‘I love you’.”

“Bennett’s right.” Clark gestured at Emmett. “We have a better chance of getting him out of the mess he’s in.”

Emmett couldn’t find any humor in the situation. He rotated his head to look at Bennett. “What do I do, man? You know her better than I do.”

A slight frown drew Bennett’s brows together. “Your best bet is to pin her down and make her talk it out. Amy—when Amy’s mad, she makes sure I know it, we fight it out, we make up, and everything’s good. Savannah holds it all in, glosses it over with sarcasm, and dodges dealing with it. That used to drive—”

He covered whatever he’d been about to say with a cough. “Try to get her to talk it out.”

Over the next forty minutes or so, Emmett attempted to let Georgia’s poor performance on the field distract him. He had to apologize, but that didn’t mean she had to forgive him. And to even begin to explain his behavior, he was going to have to lay out how he was starting to feel about her. Somehow, he had a sinking feeling those emotions were not going to work in his favor.

His impending defeat was about as apparent as Georgia’s at halftime, with the score at 30 to 3 in ’Bama’s favor. The dread grew with every minute, tying him further into knots. Each knot sang tightly with tension when the back door opened, and his ears picked up a familiar female voice.

“Amy, seriously. I want to go home.” Weariness and annoyance roughened Savannah’s tone.

“Hang out with us for a little while,” a softer voice answered. “Georgia’s losing, and you know how Rob will be.”

A grin quirked at Bennett’s mouth. Emmett’s stomach hurt, stress clenching his chest, and he considered the very real possibility he’d throw up. He edged forward on the couch. What was he thinking? She hadn’t replied to either of his texts earlier; he knew she didn’t want to talk to him, let alone see him—

Her low oath interrupted his tangled thoughts. Her footsteps slapped against the kitchen floor, and he scrambled from the sofa the best he could. Ignoring the cramp that wanted to grab his thigh, he sidestepped Bennett’s startled wife with a terse “excuse me” and followed Savannah out the side door. She was halfway down the drive when he closed the door behind him.

“Savannah, wait.”

Her shoulders tensed, and she whirled to face him. “What are you doing here?”

“Listen to me.” He held up both hands when she narrowed her eyes—swollen and red, he could see now—and opened her mouth to protest. “Please.”

“Listen to what? Another accusation that I’m sleeping around?” Her chin tilted in angry defiance. This close, he noticed the way stress tightened the line of her mouth and the shadows of a sleepless night lingered beneath her brown eyes. Remorse seized his chest with a tight hand. Why the hell hadn’t he slowed down to see that this morning? Oh, yeah, because when mad and hurt collided for him, he never stopped to think. She crossed her arms over her chest. “Do you really think that of me?”

“I was jealous.” The quiet admission fell between them. “I wasn’t thinking at all. I just reacted. It was stupid, I hurt you, and I’m sorry.”

A small, scoffing
pfft
escaped her lips. “You did not hurt me.”

She was lying, and they both knew it. Some instinct whispered that calling her bluff would be a huge mistake. He rested his hands at his hips and gazed into guarded brown eyes. “We can’t be friends, Savannah.”

“What?” She frowned, shaking her head at the sudden change of topic.

“We can’t be friends. It won’t work for us.” He took a step forward. “We’re either in this for real or we’re not.”

“Oh, we’re definitely not.” Her chin tilted further. “I told you, I don’t want a relationship.”

“Yeah, you told me all about what you didn’t want.” He closed the slight distance between them, cupping the rebellious line of her jaw in both hands. “What about what you need?”

He lowered his head to find her mouth with his. Her lips trembled under his, and the quiver in her jaw traveled through his fingers before she flattened both hands against his chest and pushed away. “No.”

Tears glittered along her lashes, but he didn’t release his gentle hold on her. “You know you want me, and I think you need us.”

“I can’t do this.” She brought her hands up and pushed her forearms against his, breaking the soft contact. “I don’t want to see you again, Emmett. I mean it.”

She spun and walked away to her car. This time, he didn’t call her name. She wouldn’t hear him anyway, and if she did, the expression in her eyes told him she wouldn’t respond.

* * * * *

Emmett loaded the training module files into an electronic folder and pushed them out via the online browser add-on he’d discovered on some middle school teacher’s blog. Hot damn. He leaned back and eyed the screen. It actually worked, and maybe if the online training was more convenient to access, the department’s personnel would gripe less.

Probably not—the guys he worked with seemed to be a bunch of crotchety old women some days. Kinda like his neighbor who’d cussed Troy Lee out over the parking spot that time—

He winced. Thinking about neighbors inevitably led somewhere he didn’t want to go, somewhere he’d avoided scrupulously for the past two weeks. He left home early and stayed at work late to minimize his chances of running into her. When he was home, he buried himself in grad school, his violin, research on streamlining department processes, and biographies. These days, he did his reading propped up against his headboard, avoiding both his couch and the Adirondack.

Hiding was stupid, he knew, but damn it, if thinking about her still made his chest hurt, what would seeing her do?

Considering she’d had a bigger impact on him in mere days than Lacey had in two months, he didn’t want to find out.

So he read, played the violin—even considered joining Troy Lee and Clark one Saturday night at the Cue Club—and read some more.

He snagged the department memo copies spitting from his printer and pushed up from his chair. Every day the leg hurt less, each week Holli was more optimistic about his progress, and he hung on to those positives too. In the multipurpose room, he pinned memos and missing/wanted notices to the announcement board. A pair of deputies ate lunch—takeout from the local BBQ place—at the table before the television.

Rob Bennett leaned back in his chair, feet propped on his desk, a half-finished burger flung down on a wrinkled wrapper. He balanced a book on one thigh and a legal pad on the other, and every so often, he scratched down a note. On the wall behind him, he’d turned the whiteboard into a web of everything he knew about the EMT shootings.

Two weeks, another bogus call with shots fired at responding personnel, and they had one obsessed investigator with no leads. Emmett found himself avoiding Bennett. He wanted to ask about Savannah so bad, and he didn’t trust himself not to. Bennett wasn’t the type to insert himself in other people’s personal lives, so their rare conversation centered on work or whatever topics Troy Lee and Clark brought to their Wednesday lunches.

Emmett cast one more quick glance at Bennett. He wanted to know if Savannah missed him, but even more, he wanted to know that she was okay.

Her absence was answer enough to the first question. And the second? Well, her absence again told him she didn’t want him to know how she was.

* * * * *

They weren’t going to let her go home. Savannah clenched her hands in her lap, out of sight of the hospital administrator and VP of operations from Southwest Georgia Medical. She’d presented her transition reports, made an impassioned plea for increased nursing resources, and requested a transfer back to her home hospital in Valdosta.

And all they wanted to do was rave about her performance here in the past month, how
invested
she was in Chandler General.

Dear God, help her.

Suddenly, she’d regretted the prayerless state of her life since Gates’s death. Maybe, if she’d been faithful, she wouldn’t be stuck in this desert. But no, she’d been angry, and now she was wandering in the wilderness of Chandler County.

She wanted to cry. Instead, she smiled her best pageant smile and played the game. If she made nice, maybe they’d only leave her here for forty days and nights instead of forty years.

The meeting broke up, and after shaking hands around the table, she walked back to the ER, hoping it would be slammed and she would be needed. Technically her shift was over, but she’d worked late as often as possible in the past couple of weeks.