Page 61 of Worth the Fall

EMERSON

“Chill out. I’m a big girl.”

A look comes over Grant’s face that makes every part of me come alive. It was an innocent comment on my part, and yet, the look in his eyes is suggestive as hell and perfectly fitting for this darkened, back corner of the bar.

“I’m well aware that you’re a big girl, Emerson. You’ve gone out of your way to make me acknowledge it.”

I’m not sure if it’s a dig, but it’s true, so I don’t take it as anything other than that.

“I heard you dropped the donuts by the homeless shelter.” His eyes flash up, and I’m immediately reminded of how I felt when I found out through the grapevine about what he did. “I have my own stalking capabilities.”

“So I see.”

“I think it was a super cool thing for you to do.”

“Besides meeting you here, it was the easiest decision of my day.”

I can see sadness in his eyes as he goes away from me momentarily. Back to his call? Back to the reason he is here, drinking in a bar by himself, perhaps?

“Tell me about your call,” I prompt and reach out and put my hand on his. “I’d like to know about it.”

His hand stiffens momentarily, and I know he’s battling with whether he should talk or not—a blue blood through and through. He picks up his drink with his free hand, takes a sip before setting it down, and then laces his fingers with mine. But he still doesn’t look at me.

And as the silent seconds tick by, my mind begins to wander. To how we just officially held hands and I’m not freaking out over it. To how it feels natural and pretty damn good. I think I’m more freaked out over that than the notion that we are sitting in a bar and looking like a couple.

“I used our rock thing today,” he finally says as he meets my eyes, but I’m completely clueless as to what he’s referring to.

“Our rock thing?” I ask, head angled as if it would help me understand.

“Yeah. It came to me today when I was on my call. I thought it might be a way to connect to a little girl, and I told her about it.”

I’m so lost. Rock thing? What am I missing here?

“I don’t understand.”

“Yeah. Our rock thing. You know what, fuck it. Forget I said anything.”

“No. Please. I want to know.”

“My call today. It was a 10-16 . . . sorry, a domestic disturbance, and it wasn’t the first time we’d been called out there. I think the dad is abusing the mom, but the mom is making excuses to protect him. It’s a classic case of him beating her down enough, grooming her, so that she thinks he can’t live without her and vice versa. I don’t know. I don’t get it, but I know it’s real because I’ve seen it more times than I care to count.”

“I’m sorry.” It’s all I say, but I squeeze his hand to lend him silent support as he thinks about something I can’t even fathom.

“So am I.” He sighs, the sag of his shoulders a visible manifestation of the toll the call has taken on him. “I want to help the mom, but I can’t help her until she wants it, and I hope that it isn’t too late. But what’s even worse is that they have a daughter. She’s five, and the sweetest little girl who is caught in the middle of a shit sandwich. She’s defending a dad, who isn’t nice, and loving a mom, who doesn’t defend her. All this little girl wants is just to be a kid.”

“That’s rough. I don’t know what to say other than I’m sorry. I can’t imagine the things you see every day. The things you deal with,” I say, really wanting to go back and find out what he meant about the rocks. Something is niggling at the back of my mind. I’m not sure what it is, but I’m too scared to ask.

“You know what? I think we should stop talking about our shitty days and go get ice cream.”

“Ice cream?” I laugh. “We’ve gone from drinking away our sorrows to ice cream?”

“Yep. Do you have something against ice cream?”

“Umm . . . no. Who could hate ice cream?” My stomach growls at the thought of food, reminding me just how long it’s been since I’ve eaten. “But then again, after my crappy day, this alcohol isn’t so bad, either.”

“There’s my Emmy.” He flashes me an irresistible grin that freezes when we both realize what he said.

I’m not going to lie and say those words don’t make me want to give in on this silly game we’ve been playing—control be damned—and kiss him. Right here. Right now.