Songbird(10)

“Shhh, you’re talking crazy,” he said as he gripped her tighter.

Her body swayed and bounced as he began the walk back to the house. To her immense relief, the awful noise stopped, but the tears tracked endlessly down her face, wetting his shirt.

Taggert halted suddenly, and Emily heard Greer demand what the hell was wrong.

She couldn’t find the strength to look at Greer. Her strength was gone. She’d thought herself weak before, but now she realized the fortitude it had taken not to break before now, to face each day, even as numb as she’d been, and survive.

The next thing she knew, her clothing was being removed, and she couldn’t even summon a protest. Her vision was blurred by the torrent of tears. She couldn’t stop them. Now that they’d finally come, she had no idea how to turn them off.

Her hands fluttered helplessly to cover herself, but neither Taggert nor Greer was concerned with her nudity. She was thrust into a hot shower, and she reached for the walls to brace herself when she realized that Taggert had come in with her, still fully clothed.

They stood there under the hot spray until some of the bone-numbing cold began to wear off. Her shivering gradually lessened, and some of the heat seeped into her skin.

She bowed her head, letting the water run over her hair and down her body. Taggert simply held her, his hands firm around her shoulders, lending support she badly needed.

And then Greer reached in for her, pulling her away from Taggert and out into the cold again. Greer wrapped a towel around her, rubbing briskly, and then he stilled for a moment and gently touched the end of the towel to her cheeks, wiping away the tears.

Silently, more fell, and she wondered how many more she could possibly shed. Would it ever end? But the ache hadn’t diminished. She opened her mouth to speak and realized why the horrible noise had stopped. Her voice was gone. Nothing more than a raspy exhalation sounded. Had she broken that too?

“Shhh, don’t try to force it,” Greer said.

He leaned forward, wrapping his arms around her, and pressed his lips to her forehead.

“This was a long time coming, Emmy. It’s only going to get worse before you get better.”

He pulled away and looked down at her pale, gaunt face, watching helplessly as the tears fell faster than he could wipe them away.

He’d never felt so damn useless in his life.

Yes, he’d wanted Emily to break. Finally. She was operating on autopilot, scraping by while her reserves were fast depleted. She couldn’t go on like she had forever. But the alternative was seeing his beautiful Emmy completely and utterly shattered.

He wrapped the towel around her once more, tucking the ends at her small br**sts. Taggert was drying off behind them, and Greer didn’t spare him a glance as he herded Emily out of the bathroom toward the bedroom.

He rummaged in her still-unpacked bag, cursing when he saw that she barely had any clothing and her one pair of pajamas was dirty and wet.

Easing her to a sitting position on the bed, he tilted her chin upward. “Wait right here, sweet pea. I’ll be back.”

He strode into his bedroom and snagged one of his flannel shirts then returned to Emily’s room where she sat on the bed, her eyes vacant and tearful. One hand was massaging her throat absently, and a grimace worked at her mouth.

She’d hurt herself. He’d never forget the sounds she made. He’d heard her all the way from the house, and the raw edge of grief mixed with her cries had sent a chill down his spine.

“Here, put this on,” he urged. “I’ll have Buck make you some soup. It’ll feel good on your throat.”

She reacted listlessly, as if it took all her strength to shrug out of the towel. He helped her into the shirt and quickly buttoned it up.

Taggert walked in and Greer looked up to see distress in his older brother’s eyes. Tagg wanted to say something. Greer could see it. He was battling with himself, not knowing whether it was the time.

Greer shook his head, hoping Taggert got the message. Whatever it was could wait. Emily was at her end. There was no way she could process anything Tagg had to say anyway.

Greer tucked Emily into bed, pulling the covers up so she would be warm. She was still crying, her shoulders shaking, but no sound escaped from her lips. He leaned down to kiss her and whispered a silent prayer that she would make it out of this.

When he stood, Taggert was still standing by the door, his hand rubbing a stressed path through his hair. Greer motioned him out of the bedroom, and the two met in the hall.

“She’s blaming herself,” Taggert said. “Goddamn it, Greer. She lost it when I told her that if I’d never sent her away Sean would still be alive. I did this to her. She went to pieces at his grave, and she apologized to me. Said it was her fault, not mine.”

Greer blew out a long breath. “It had to happen, Tagg. Whatever the reason for it, she couldn’t keep on in denial, just existing day to day like some damn ghost. We’ll figure out why she blames herself later. Right now I’m just glad she’s finally letting herself cry.”

“Why is it that I’m always the one to hurt her?”

The self-condemnation in Taggert’s voice was strong, and as much as he didn’t like the idea of his brother in pain, Greer’s focus was Emily.

He put a hand on Taggert’s shoulder. “Put it away, man. You’re not doing yourself or her any good. She needs us both right now. I’m going to go down and get her some soup. She’s cried herself hoarse.”