Dream Lake (Friday Harbor #3)(92)

With effort, Alex levered himself to a sitting position. He grasped Zoë’s wrist and pulled it away, and crushed a hard kiss against her lips. He tasted the salt of her tears. “I love you,” he said hoarsely.

Breathing in sobs, Zoë stared at him with streaming eyes.

Tom spoke to him urgently. “Help Emma. She needs to go inside the house.”

Emma was kneeling nearby, watching them blearily, the breeze blowing locks of silvery hair across her face.

Alex struggled to his feet and pulled Zoë up with him.

“Maybe you shouldn’t try to walk,” Zoë protested.

“I’m fine.”

“Alex, you were hurt. I saw it.”

“I know what it must have looked like,” Alex said gently. “But everything’s okay. I promise.”

The driver of the car, a distraught middle-aged woman, was babbling about insurance and phone numbers and calling paramedics. Alex said to Zoë, “If you could take care of her, I’m going to bring Emma inside.” Without waiting for a reply, he bent to scoop Emma into his arms. He carried her to the cottage. She was astonishingly light in his arms.

“Thank you for saving me,” Emma said.

“No problem.”

“I saw the car hit you.”

“Just a little bump.”

“The front grille was caved in and the headlight was smashed,” she told him.

“They don’t make cars the way they used to.”

She gave a raspy little chuckle.

Alex carried her into the house and directly to the bedroom. After setting her on the bed, he removed her slippers and pulled the covers up to her chest.

“I was looking for Tom,” Emma said, reaching up to pat his cheek.

Alex bent to kiss her forehead. “He’s here,” he murmured.

“I know.”

Zoë entered the room and fussed over her grandmother, asking worried questions, coaxing her to take a sip of water. As Alex left the room, he heard Emma say a bit testily, “Let me sleep, Zoë. I love you, too. Let me rest.”

When Zoë finally turned out the lights and left the bedroom, Tom went to lie quietly beside Emma.

“I wanted you,” she whispered after a moment. “I couldn’t find you.”

“I’ll never leave you again,” Tom told her. He didn’t know if she could hear him, but he sensed that she was relaxing, settling into sleep.

A plaintive murmur. “I don’t remember anything.”

“You don’t have to,” Tom replied, smiling at her in the darkness. “I found all your memories tonight. I’m keeping them safe for you … they’re waiting inside me like a heartbeat. And I’ll give them to you when the time is right.”

“Soon,” she whispered, turning toward him with a sigh of relief.

“Yes, love … very soon.”

Zoë gestured for Alex to follow her. She led him to her room, her throat tight, her eyes flooding with fresh tears.

He looked down at her with infinite concern. “What’s the matter?”

“I was so scared,” she said in a watery voice, blotting her sore eyes with the sleeve of her robe.

“I know. I’m sorry I pushed Emma like that. But she seems okay now—”

“I meant you.” She went to the tiny bathroom, found a tissue, and blew her nose vehemently. Her jaw quivered as she continued. “I saw you get hit by that car—”

“Bumped.”

“Hit,” she said, letting out a coughing sob, “and you were all s-smashed up on the ground, and I th-thought you were—” Breaking off, she swallowed painfully against another burst of crying. She would never recover from the sight of him unconscious on the road. The fear still hadn’t left her. Her shaking hand touched his shoulder, just to make certain he really was there, that he was alive.

He took both her hands and brought them to his chest, where she could feel the strong, steady thump of his heart. “Zoë. I have so much to say to you, it could take all night. A year. No, a lifetime.”

“Take as long as you want,” she said with a sniffle. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Alex put his arms around her, gathering her into a deep, secure embrace. So strong. So vital. He was silent for a long time, understanding somehow that she needed the feel of him. She laid her head against his chest, breathing in the scents of dirt and tar and night air.

Pushing aside her hair, Alex pressed a few light, hot kisses against the side of her face. “When you told me you loved me,” he said quietly, “I got scared. Because I knew when a woman like you says that, it means … everything. Marriage. A house with a porch swing. Children.”

“Yes.”

He sank his hand into her hair and tilted her head back. He looked into her eyes with a sober intensity that she couldn’t doubt. “I want those things, too.”

She had been shaking with nerves and fear before, but she felt shaky in a new way now, because she understood that he meant it.

His mouth caressed hers, a searing pressure that lingered until her knees went weak. “We’ll take it at your pace,” he said. “As fast or slow as you want.”

“I don’t want to wait,” she told him, her hands creeping up his warm, hard back. “I don’t want to spend a night without you ever again. I want to move in together right away, and get engaged, and set a wedding date, and …” She stopped and gave him a sheepish glance. “Is that too fast?”