All I Need (Hearts of the South) (13 page)

She found the ER to be quiet with no patients waiting, offering no reason to stay. The last thing she wanted was to go home this early and risk running into Emmett.

Leaning on the counter, she pulled her phone from her back pocket and tapped out a quick text to her sister.

Ok to join you for dinner?

Within seconds her phone buzzed with Amy’s
sure
. Savannah slid her phone into her pocket, relief deluging her. Time with Amy and Rob always settled her. She didn’t have to pretend with them.

She stopped at the grocery store along the way to grab fruit, cheese, and pasta salad to go with the chicken and green beans Rob was roasting. At their home, she parked behind Amy’s little BMW, grabbed the shopping bags, and let herself in through the side door. The murmur of their voices carried through the laundry room, and some of her tension began to fall away.

“Rob, seriously, put them away.” A hint of real annoyance hovered in Amy’s voice. “You’ve been buried in them since you came home. You can take a break for supper.”

Savannah set the shopping bags on the counter and slung her bag on a stool. “Should I go?”

Amy waved her smartass comment away. “No, he’s obsessed with this paramedic-shooting case.”

“I’m not obsessed.” Rob shuffled a handful of papers into a folder and laid it aside on the opposite counter. “But I’d like to make an arrest before the guy tries it again.”

“I know.” Amy patted his shoulder and leaned in to kiss him. “But you have to have a life too, remember?”

He spread his hands. “I put them away, didn’t I?”

Savannah perched on the other stool to unpack the fruit and cheeses. “Someone’s a little testy.”

Rob pinned her with a narrow-eyed look. “Don’t start.”

“What is wrong with you?” Savannah matched him glower for glower.

“Nothing.” He chafed a hand over his neck and blew out a long breath. “Beau and Andy went home from the hospital this week, but they still have some recuperation time ahead of them. According to Clark, Beau’s ready to start on his bucket list when he’s healed.”

“Oh, that’s great.” Amy pulled the roasting pan out of the oven and reached to turn off the appliance.

“Yeah, apparently, he’s wanting to go skydiving, and the recuperation won’t be as long as Beck’s, so maybe his life won’t be on hold the same way.”

Savannah stilled in the act of selecting a grape. She didn’t need to hear Emmett’s name, didn’t need to think about him. With forced nonchalance, she lifted the piece of fruit to her mouth.

“So, Savannah, what do we have to do to get you to live again?” Rob tossed the question at her in a too-casual tone that did nothing to minimize the challenge.

She narrowly avoided choking on the grape and hissed in a breath. “Don’t.”

“I damn sure am.” He set his glass aside. Amy’s phone dinged, and she reached for it, attention diverted. “You’re worse off than I was, and you won’t admit it. You made me, remember?”

In the face of that fierce relentlessness, Savannah froze. “That was different.”

“How?”

“Rob.” Amy’s quiet voice did little to break the tension.

“So what about it, Savannah?” Rob lifted a hand. “What are you having more of, good days or bad ones?”

She glared at him, closer to hating him than she’d ever believed possible. She loved him, adored him, but she detested this pushing of his. “What do you want me to say, that I haven’t had a good day in two years?”

“Don’t you think it’s about time you did?” He leaned forward. “I hate seeing you like this, all closed off from everyone and everything.”

“Rob.”

Staring one another down, they ignored Amy. Rob rested his hands at his hips and leaned forward, his gaze intent. “So what about Emmett Beck? Does he make the days better?”

He had. He’d brought anticipation and desire and laughter to her life again. She didn’t know how to handle that.

“Savannah.” Rob’s voice trembled with searing frustration. “You didn’t leave me, and I’m not leaving you. You asked me to let you help me. Why won’t you let someone help you? Tell me what we have to do, Savannah.”

She couldn’t, because she didn’t know herself. The grief and isolation had become a habit, like a well-worn-in pair of sweats.

“
Robert
.” This time, Amy caught his arm, and he whirled.

“
What?
” The terse question was the closest thing Savannah had ever witnessed to him snapping at Amy. Savannah sucked in a gulping breath, relieved. At least his attention was off her for a moment.

“We’re having a baby.”

“What?” His brows dipped in a frown of confusion. “What are you talking about?”

“We matched, and we’re having a baby.” Amy’s voice shuddered with awe. She extended her cell in his direction, and he took it with dazed motions. “Like today.”

“God bless America,” he whispered, gaze on the screen. He leaned on the counter behind him and laughed, a shaky sound that mirrored Amy’s wonder. He draped an arm around Amy’s shoulders and pulled her into him, then reached for Savannah with his other arm, tugging her into their embrace. “We’re having a baby.”

* * * * *

Savannah really wasn’t sure what was worse—the waiting or watching Amy’s normally even emotions veer with it. Late Tuesday evening, they’d learned the baby had indeed been born, but the mother had decided she wanted a closed adoption instead of the open one Amy and Rob had sought. The result had been another twenty-four hours of killing time at their parents’ home for Amy and Rob, with periodic updates from their agency and attorney. Savannah drove over both evenings after leaving the ER in Coney and made arrangements to be with them Thursday, and with their parents, she watched Amy and Rob take a risk on another huge loss and heartbreak.

The scenario only drove home her own cowardice.

Finally, after lunch on Thursday, Amy’s phone dinged with a text, and she pressed both hands to her cheeks. “They’re here.”

Under a bright sky, their attorney opened the rear door of her Lexus. “Come meet your daughter.”

A palm over her mouth, Amy leaned down to peer inside. “Oh, my God.”

The awed whisper and the tender support of Rob’s hand at Amy’s waist brought tears to Savannah’s eyes.

Amy brushed at her cheeks. “Can we take her out?”

Laurel Timmons, their attorney and longtime family friend, smiled. “Yes.”

With a sound somewhere between a giggle and a sob, Amy straightened and fluttered both hands. “Rob, you do it. I’m afraid I’ll drop her.”

On a deep chuckle, Rob bent to free the car seat. His chuckle bloomed into rich laughter. “Georgia? You brought her to me dressed in Georgia colors.”

“That was my idea.” With a cheeky grin, Amy pressed into his side, an arm about his waist, and gazed at the tiny infant. “Look at her. She’s perfect.”

From Savannah’s vantage point, she was—wisps of brown hair that matched long dark lashes, minuscule fingers curled against a red and black gingham dress emblazoned with UGA’s big “G” logo. Their mother leaned in to take a better look and sighed. “She looks like a doll.”

“Maybe we should get her in out of the sun.” Their father stepped in as the voice of reason, and Savannah nodded, glad for the redirection before she burst into messy tears.

In the living room, Amy lifted the baby and cradled her with infinite tenderness. With trembling fingers, she straightened the edge of the baby’s dress and touched tiny hands and feet. Rob stroked a fingertip across the infant’s elbow, both of them lost in the wonder of new parenthood. As Laurel reviewed their need-to-know information—a ten-day waiting period in which the birth parents could change their minds and then the necessity of a hearing for the final decree—Savannah found herself having to turn away from the adoration and reverence on Rob’s face as he gazed down at his wife and new child.

Much more, and she was going to lose it for real. The moment was bittersweet—her two favorite people finally holding one of their dearest dreams, but her memory kept dredging up a similar expression on another man’s face, when she’d been the source of that love and amazement.

And a treacherous heart wondered what it would be like to have Emmett look at her like that.

Savannah swallowed hard, her throat hurting. “Does she have a name?”

A smile curved Amy’s mouth. She lifted a tiny finger with her own fingertip. “Hamilton.”

Rob’s middle name. Savannah arched one eyebrow. “Tell me you didn’t name that child Roberta Hamilton, Amy.”

“Of course not.” Pure mischief characterized Rob’s grin. “We named her Savannah Hamilton.”

And at that, she did cry.

* * * * *

Savannah woke from a dream she didn’t remember. Disoriented, she touched her tear-dampened cheek and levered up against the pillows. Moonlight streamed through the gauzy curtains in her girlhood bedroom. She was going to have to get up early anyway to be at the ER on time, but this wasn’t what she had in mind. A familiar male voice murmured from the living room. She dried wet eyes on the sheet and shoved the covers aside.

Barefoot, she wandered down the hallway to find Rob on the couch, Hamilton tucked into one strong arm, her still-newborn-blue eyes locked on his face while he fed her.

“Amy is going to kill you if that’s her first middle-of-the-night feeding and you didn’t wake her up for it,” Savannah whispered and sank onto the couch next to him.

“This is our second middle-of-the-night feeding, and Amy was here for the first one around midnight.” He grinned. “Besides, my stint with nighttime feedings may be limited since your sister is researching ways to induce lactation.”

“You poor kid.” Savannah ran her thumb along the sole of one impossibly small foot. The toes curled at the tender touch. “Your dad and I are going to have to keep your mother under control or she’ll have every aspect of your life researched and planned out until you retire.”

“I am not that bad.” From the doorway, Amy spoke around a yawn. “I’ve only got things planned until she goes to college. No pageant life for this baby girl, and she can pick Valdosta State or UGA.”

“Auburn has an excellent academic reputation.” Rob lifted his arm to buss Hamilton’s forehead, and her lashes drifted down. Amy perched on the sofa arm at his shoulder, sifting her fingers through his disheveled hair. “She might want to yell ‘War Damn Eagle’ instead of ‘Go Dawgs’.”

“You can’t plan everything, Ames.” Savannah slanted a look at her sister. “She has to have some spontaneity in her life.”

Rob made a sound in his throat. “That’s rich, coming from you, since you refuse to have a life anymore.”

Amy tugged at his hair. “Rob, maybe this isn’t the best time.”

Eyes narrowed, Savannah studied him. “You are not going to leave this alone, are you?”

“No, I’m not, and you don’t want me to, not really.” He set the nearly empty bottle aside and lifted Hamilton to his shoulder to rub her back. “You know what I pray over you every day? That you’ll remember what kind of guy Gates was and realize he wouldn’t want you buried in grief. Because that’s the last thing he’d want for you, and you know it.”

She did know, only…

“I don’t…” She picked at the seam on the couch back. “I can’t figure out how to do things…to do life differently anymore.”

“I know,” Rob said quietly, and she realized that he did get it, that he understood how the grief and numbness became a habit. Hamilton belched quietly against his neck. “But aren’t you tired, Savannah?”

Her mouth quivered, and she clenched her jaw. Eyes closed, she dashed a finger across her lashes. “Yes.”

“Then, please, take the first step to come back to us.”

Chapter Seven

A shrill sound penetrated the chaos around Emmett—yelling, running footsteps, hard hands pressing down on his thigh, agony shooting through him. A siren, only sirens didn’t sound like that, one long peal.

Suddenly awake, he stared at the ceiling, his pulse thudding in his throat. He blinked and shoved his notebook and Kouzes and Posner aside. He’d worked late for a Friday and had already been tired before even tackling the reading. Must have fallen asleep working on notes for his last big paper.

The doorbell rang once more.

He frowned and blinked at the clock. Who the hell was ringing his doorbell at nearly one in the morning?

Not bothering with a shirt, he shuffled down the hall and peered through the peephole.

Savannah
.

Hand on the knob, he paused. Did he really want to open that door again?

Was that even a question, as miserable as he’d been the last three weeks? Hell, he’d missed simply seeing her car next to his truck the past few days, while she’d been away, he assumed, with Bennett and his wife during the birth of their child.

He swung the door open and leaned his forearm along the frame.

“Hey.” She didn’t smile, but her fingers fidgeted with the hem of the snug black camisole she wore with some kind of stretchy black pants. Her nervous movements revealed a pale strip of skin along her abdomen and hip.