Burning Ember (66 page)

The first time she sang it and pushed her plate away, Ember laughed like I’d never heard her laugh before, full out and with a blindingly beautiful smile. I realized pretty quick that she wasn’t laughing because of the song; after all, she’d heard it before. She was laughing at my frozen what-in-the-ever-lovin’-fuck expression.

In month two of living together, I saw more of her smiles, Will’s too, and heard more of their laughs. We fell into a routine. I woke early and worked, and when Will woke, she snuck into my office and stole some papers and supplies. We took a break a little later and ate cereal, because Ember no longer trusted me to cook while she slept. Then we got back to work. When Will was in a listening mood, I taught her about art. When she wasn’t, we worked together in silence. After she finished a drawing, she would show it to me, get her due praise, and then put her hand over her lips, letting me know that I was again sworn to secrecy. Then she’d slide it into the cardboard tube I’d given her to keep them all safe.

At ten, we woke Ember and she got them both ready for the day. Then Will watched cartoons and Ember studied for her GED. She was almost back to her old self except that she moved cautiously, and couldn’t lift anything heavy.

I either went back to work, took care of things I needed to around the house, cleaning, laundry, the yard, or I headed to the clubhouse. I visited the club often because it was getting harder and harder to be around Ember without wanting more. And she wasn’t ready for more, so I gave her the time she needed and distracted myself.

There were times I’d catch her looking at me with heat in her eyes, but fear was still there too. So I stole a peck when I could, and I touched her some when Will wasn’t looking, but it was nothing close to what I hungered for.

At night, Em would cook dinner, and we’d watch either TV or a movie. Then it would be bath time and bedtime for Will. Since I didn’t feel comfortable helping with bath time, I offered every now and again to read until Will fell asleep. Most nights she wanted only Ember, but every so often, she’d grab my hand and a book and demand that I get to it.

Sunny came and went. She had moved in with Smoke after she was discharged from the hospital. They lived in Los Lunas, which was only ten or so minutes away. However, there were nights and days where she showed up out of the blue and spend a few days with us. No notice. No explanation. Every time she left without asking to take Will with her, I found myself saying a silent prayer.

I did that for two reasons. I didn’t know how I was going to mend Ember if Will was taken from her again, and honestly I didn’t want to see her go.

Will made life more interesting. Her laugh wasn’t something you could listen to without it bringing a smile to your face. She made art new and fun again. She had an obsession with bubble baths, and I could never contain my laugh when she’d spit water at Ember like she was a dolphin. Or when she hung a bubble beard from her chin and talked like good ol’ Uncle Griz. It was fuckin’ hilarious.

One time I even caught her playing dress up with not only my cut, but also my boots on her feet, my helmet on her head, and she was sitting on the laundry basket sliding across the kitchen floor and making a funny noise with her lips.

To say it was the cutest fuckin’ thing I’d ever see would be an understatement.

Honestly, I’d gotten used to having them both in my life. Every morning, I couldn’t wait to see what new thing I’d learn about them that day, and watching them dance together was becoming my new favorite pass time. Even if it was to No Doubt’s “Spiderwebs.”

It wasn’t until right around Thanksgiving our little routine was shaken up. And not only because I brought home one of the pups Donut had sired, but also because Sunny delivered some news that changed everything.

This particular time she handed Ember an envelope on her way out the door.

At first, I didn’t know what it contained, only that whatever it said caused Ember to clutch her chest, and erupt in tears. Then she lay her palm over her mouth and smiled through her sadness.

I didn’t press Ember for details. I knew she’d tell me when she was ready. So for the rest of the day, I hoped for the best, and dreaded the worst.

That night after I finished reading her passages from Jeremiah, and laid my Bible on the nightstand, she pulled those same papers from under her pillow and handed them to me.

I read the entire thing. They were legal documents signed by a judge granting Ember guardianship and custody of Will.

When I looked up after being lost in my thoughts for a moment, Ember was crying, but also fighting a smile. I pulled her against my chest and ran my hand up and down her back.

Kissing her forehead, I ask, “Does it feel like the right thing?”

“Yes. But I don’t understand how she can do it. If she was mine, I’d never give her up.”

“And that’s why she’s yours.”

“But what do I say to Will?”

“Tell her Sunny loved her enough to make sure she was safe and with someone who would always love and take care of her. That she’s right where she’s supposed to be.”

That you both are . . .

Men are sexual creatures. As women, this is something we must never forget.

EMBER

The horrible feeling in my belly won’t subside and it’s getting worse every day. I try not to let it bug me that Mav is once again at the clubhouse, but the same questions keep tunneling through my mind, making it difficult to study for my GED test I take in two days.

What is so important that he needs to be there all the time? Is he sick of us invading his home and doesn’t dare say anything? Or is there simply someone else’s company there he prefers to mine? And if the answers yes, then who’s?

Because so help me God, if it’s Star’s, I will kill them both. Actually, I might just kill him no matter who it is. I know where he hides his guns.

Swallowing past the emotional lump in my throat, I push down my murderous thoughts.

All day I’ve had to scold myself that I will not . . . under any circumstances . . . do what Blaire did last Friday. Sneak into the clubhouse and kick open my old man’s bedroom door. The last thing I want to see is Mav with someone else. Or two someones in Bodie’s case.

When Lily told me that story during our Margarita Monday yesterday, I almost felt bad for Blaire except I really don’t like her. She was a complete bitch to me at Thanksgiving, and I’m actually hoping she won’t be at the HOC Christmas party.

Yeah . . .
Christmas, days away. Not the most opportune time to have my relationship with Mav go up in flames. Considering Will hasn’t stopped bouncing off the walls since Mav put her first presents under the tree.

She counts them daily, and there’s ten now. I finally had to tell Mav no more.

I keep asking myself why he would do that, spoil her, if he doesn’t want us here.

Why would he keep telling me that I didn’t need a job, and to focus on passing this test and college, if he knew this wasn’t working?

“Ugh . . . f
or Christ sake, Ember, just ask him. Today. When he gets home. Then you can stop torturing yourself and start doing damage control. And do it now, before she gets more attached to him, and this house, and the damn dog, and the idea of us one day being a real family.”

I groan and rub my hands over my face. Peeking under the table, I nudge Saint, who’s curled up on top of my feet, keeping them warm. “See, this is what happens when I spend too much time alone. I start talking to myself. Why don’t you wake up and distract me? I’m going a little nuts up here.”

When I get no response, I check the clock on the microwave.

Lily and Will aren’t due back for two more hours, and knowing Lily like I do she’ll get so absorbed in shopping, she’ll forget about the time. So two hours really means four.

Pushing away from the table, I head upstairs. If I can’t study, then I might as well do something mind numbing, like clean. After stealing Mav’s iPod and headphones off his dresser, I go back to the kitchen. I unload the dishwater and then dust. When I’m still buzzing with anxiety, I attack the floor.

While singing Trapt’s “Headstrong” under my breath, I sit back on my heels and reach for the bucket to rinse the rag in. I’m just getting ready to finish the last section, when his dark boots catch my eye.

I let my gaze slowly walk up the sight of him standing in the doorway. He’s leaning with his shoulder against the wall, and his legs are crossed at his ankles. He’s wearing those damn ripped jeans he likes so much, and a heather gray Henley that’s tucked in behind his belt buckle.

He’s more built now than he was before because he works out nearly every day either running, boxing, or lifting weights. In fact his arms are pure porn. Porn that I actively appreciate at least a few times a day.

“Hey,” I say with a grin and pull down the headphones so they’re resting around my neck.

“Couldn’t study?”

“No. Too worried about . . .”

He runs his hand through his hair and just like that, my train of thought vanishes. I imagine for a second running my own fingers it, and grabbing on to it while he reacquaints himself with a part of my anatomy that misses him terribly. Because though his hair is still short, it’s now long enough to make my dream a reality.

He stares down at me. “Passing the test?” His eyes leave my face and roam further down my body. Ummm . . . yeah. I cringe because I look like a slob. My hair’s in a messy bun and my not-so-nice tank top and sleep shorts are pretty worn out. Also, as I was pulling the bucket out of the sink after I filled it, the lip of it caught on the faucet spout, and spilled down my front, instantly making me smell like a forest of pine trees.

I look up in time to see Mav rub his hand over his mouth. I’m not sure I hear him right, but he angrily growls something like, “Christ Almighty, do you have to wear that shit?” and then turns away. He leaves the kitchen like his pants are on fire and the next thing I know he’s flying up the stairs.

Really?

Heat crawls up my neck. I throw the rag I was using into the bucket and decide to follow him. Will isn’t home and it’s as perfect a time as any to figure out what in the freaking hell is going on with him. As I climb the stairs, I do my best to muster up the courage I’ll need. But he’s not in his room or mine. Then I hear the shower turn on. Taking a deep breath, I grab the knob, open the door, and walk in.

“Em?” he calls out.

“Yeah, it’s me.”

He clears his throat and asks, “What’s up, baby? What do ya need?”

I cross my arms, tap my foot nervously, and chew on my lip. Where do I start?

“Is me being here a problem for you?”

He lets out an amused chuckle. “Yeah, you could say that.”

“Do you want me to go?”

“You don’t have to.”

Jesus, how long has he wanted me gone? From the first month, the first week? He said he loved me that night at the hospital, but maybe he’s changed his mind because he hasn’t said it since. Maybe seeing me at my worst made him realize I’m not who he thought I was.

“But you don’t want me to stay?”

There’s a long pause and then he finally says hoarsely, “You can stay. I’m definitely not going to make you leave.”

“God, Mav. Why don’t you just make up your goddamn mind one way or another? How can you still be so hot and cold after everything we’ve . . . You know what, never mind. Just tell me if you want me to go.”

Mav slides the curtain open a bit. He sweeps his hand through his inky wet hair, and then slides his palm down his face, getting rid of the droplets there. It’s all too easy to imagine what the rest of him, tattooed and dripping wet, looks like. It feels like forever, and not months, since I’ve been able to view fully the mouthwatering masterpiece that is his naked body. And I’m sure with all the new muscle, he is truly a thing of beauty.

He cocks an eyebrow and my brain begins to stutter. “Wait, what exactly are we talkin’ about?”

The man has my panties wet, my core throbbing, and at the same time, he’s trying to let me down easy.

When I think about how much he’s been gone, and how many showers he’s been taking lately, it hits me what a fool I’ve been. This whole time I’ve been falling more for him every day. I’m not just head over heels in love with him—I’m practically obsessed. I steal glances at him whenever I can. I daydream about sex with him half the time when I’m supposed to be studying. I can’t watch him cook without staring at his back and butt and licking my lips like a creepo. I find myself constantly replaying in my head every time we touched and kissed. Fantasize about all the times we had sex, and the one and only time—that at least I remember—where he went down on me. I lay awake half the night listening to him breathe, wondering if I should just turn around already and wake him up by trailing kisses down his chest and abdomen because I so badly want to do that thing to him that I’ve always wanted to do.

I feel like an idiot now. Here I was watching him with Will and thinking all kinds of crazy thoughts about one day wearing a white dress, and looking down at my swollen belly, and holding a little boy in my arms with black hair and golden eyes.