The Crush (22)

When I cleared the bottom step on the front porch, I took a deep breath and found myself wandering over there. The equipment had been upgraded a few times over the years, so I trusted that it would hold my weight. I sat in the swing at the end and let my sneakers settle into the brown bark that covered the ground underneath.

I let out a deep breath, resting my head on the chains of the swing.

The masquerade ball, his appearance there and the weird little interlude we had, it wasn’t reality.

But him being in my home, with my entire family watching us like we were up on a stage? That was real enough to leave me feeling unsettled.

Apparently, this was something I couldn’t roll with very easily.

With the sun on my face, I closed my eyes and tried to breathe through all the things fighting for top space in my head. But I still heard the crunch of the ground as he walked toward me.

And I knew it was him because my asshole siblings would’ve tried to scare me in my moment of sublime peace.

Emmett’s steps were measured. He wasn’t trying to be quiet, wasn’t trying to rush to where I was, and because of that, I kept my eyes firmly shut.

But my hands were sweating where I held the chains of the swing. My heart was thundering erratically. Somehow—because Parker had correctly pinpointed my fear—I’d ended up alone with him anyway.

“Is this gonna break if I sit in it?”

I couldn’t help my smile. “It’s holding me up.”

“You weigh a lot less than I do, Miss Wilder.”

At the polite moniker, something he’d never called me, my eyes popped open. He had his hands wrapped around the chains of the other swing, testing the sturdiness of the beam. Emmett glanced down at me.

“You okay?” he asked, voice a low rumble. “You seemed quiet at lunch.”

“I’m hiding from you.”

I didn’t mean to say it, but the words popped out so quickly, so easily, there was no stopping the widening of my eyes. Emmett’s eyebrows popped up briefly, his cheeks turning the slightest shade of pink.

Before he said anything, he looked back at the house, took a deep breath, and then turned toward me again.

“Do you want me to go?” His eyes were brimming with intensity, and that was part of the problem. It was also why the filter between my brain and my mouth seemed to be permanently misplaced.

“I don’t know,” I admitted.

But it was enough for him, so he nodded and slowly moved behind me. He curled his hands over top of mine on the chain, and I fought a shiver.

His palms were warm, his fingers rough with callouses when he pulled my swing back, releasing me so I moved in a gentle swaying motion.

I straightened my legs so my shoes didn’t drag, and instead of using the chain to push me again, Emmett occasionally laid his big hand along my back to keep my momentum going.

I let out a small laugh when the wind pushed my hair across my face. “I can’t remember the last time I’ve done this,” I said over my shoulder.

“You said something similar when we danced.”

His hands lingered as he stepped forward with me, giving me a bit bigger push. My stomach swooped at the height I reached even though it was nothing compared to the way we used to soar as kids.

“I guess there’s a lot I haven’t done in the past few years.” I glanced back. “A little lower, please. No one needs me puking on the playground.”

He laughed, catching the chains to slow my momentum.

“Nick’s an idiot for not dancing with you,” he said.

“Agreed,” I answered lightly. “I’m quite good at it with the right partner.”

He hummed, a low satisfied sound that caused a pleasant curling sensation in my toes. “And the right shoes, too.”

My grin came easily. “You’d be amazed what I can do in these sneakers.”

Emmett laughed.

I wanted to bottle the sound up, keep it tucked away for a moment when I needed something to warm me up. Such an unhelpful thought.

“How have we never crossed paths all these years?” he asked.

Because I obsessively checked when he’d be in town and made damn sure I wasn’t in the vicinity of any Wards when that happened, but I couldn’t exactly tell him that. I had a boyfriend, and being around Emmett—to be perfectly honest—wasn’t fair for any guy. Not with how I felt about him for so long.

Nick knew it too. One wine-buzzed night, I’d admitted it to him when we were talking about people from our past.

It was a petty admission too, coming on the heels of him telling me that his ex was a Playboy centerfold.

Naturally, I told him that once upon a time, Emmett Ward had been my absolute ideal. Not something he’d liked to hear.

“Well, when I started planning parties, I wasn’t ready to hire staff. If I wasn’t working on the weekend, I was here.” I swallowed. “Or I was traveling with Nick, if he asked me to come with him.”

“Did you do that a lot?”

I nodded. “More than I wanted, to be honest. But that was mainly at the beginning of our relationship.”

He listened quietly, giving an occasional sliding push to my back.

“Tim was just back into good health then,” I continued. “But he was weak for a while. His immune system wasn’t the same for close to a year. That spring, just after baseball season started, my mom got sick. The flu absolutely knocked her on her ass, and because she was so busy taking care of him and Poppy and everyone else, it turned into double pneumonia.”