Songbird(11)

“I’ll stay with her until you get back,” Taggert said as he turned back to Emily’s door.

Chapter Six

Crying females had always made Taggert uncomfortable, but this wasn’t a woman pouting or crying because she hadn’t gotten her way. It wasn’t an effort at manipulation or an upset that she’d get over in a few minutes.

He was completely and utterly baffled as to how to help her. Should he hold her? Touch her? Not touch her?

Did he tell her he loved her—had always loved her—or would that just pile more on her when she couldn’t stand up under what she already bore?

He stood by her bed, running his hand through his hair for the tenth time. Christ, but there weren’t rule books for these situations. What if he did or said the wrong thing?

In the end, the decision was made for him.

Emily turned her face and stared up at him, the silent trails down her cheeks ripping his heart right out of his chest.

She tried to talk, but it came out in a hoarse cough. Instead she held up her hand.

He grasped her trembling fingers and pressed a kiss to her knuckles as he slid onto the bed beside her.

With a muted, strangled sob, she turned into him, clutching him as if he were her lifeline. And maybe in a way he was.

“It’s going to be all right, Emmy,” he whispered against her hair. “I swear it.”

She shook and fluttered against him like a wounded butterfly. He eased one arm underneath her then pulled her closer to his body as he leaned back against the pillows.

Her mouth worked against his chest, and he knew she was trying to talk again. After the horrible screams that had assaulted his ears, he couldn’t imagine she had anything left.

“Shhh,” he said as he rocked her back and forth. He rubbed his hand up and down her back, making little circles at her shoulder blades then pressing firmly against her spine. “Don’t talk. Give your voice a rest, Songbird.”

She shuddered against him and turned her wet cheek into his throat as if seeking more of him, his warmth and strength. It was all he had to offer her right now, and he couldn’t deny her anything.

His mouth found her temple and he nuzzled her hair back before kissing her soft, pale skin.

“I just want you to listen to me, Emmy. I love you. I let you go once. I’m not letting you go again.”

She went very still against him and slowly raised her head, her luminous blue eyes wide as she stared back at him.

“I’m not saying I have everything figured out. I think we have a lot of hard work ahead of us. But I need you to know that I’m not walking away this time.”

A sound at the door turned Taggert sharply away. Guilt crept over his shoulders, and he angrily shook it off. Greer was standing there, his expression indecipherable as he held a tray with a bowl of soup and a glass of tea.

Nothing Taggert had said would surprise Greer, but Taggert still felt like he was sneaking one over. And that pissed him off.

Greer carried the tray to the bed, and Taggert touched Emily’s cheek, returning her gaze to him.

“Sit up for us and eat some soup. You don’t have to take it all, but it’ll make your throat feel better.”

She pushed against him and struggled upward. He helped her until she was sitting up in bed, then he plumped the pillows behind her back to give her support.

Greer slid onto the bed on her other side and settled the tray over her lap.

“Eat up,” he said gently.

He glanced briefly over at Taggert, but Taggert didn’t see any judgment or condemnation in his brother’s eyes. Just concern for Emmy.

Greer reached out and caught a tendril of her hair that fell forward as she bent to blow on a spoonful of soup. He tucked it behind her ear and trailed a fingertip over her cheekbone.

She raised her head slowly to stare at him, and Taggert sucked in his breath at the multitude of emotions expressed in her gaze.

She was searching for answers that Greer hadn’t supplied so far. There was fear and uncertainty cast deep in the shadows of her eyes.

Greer sighed. “Not now, Emmy. Not here. Neither one of us is up for what I have to say.”

Her gaze skirted sideways to Taggert. His first instinct was to rush in, talk for Greer, state his case since he knew damn well what his brother wanted, what he felt for Emily. Anything to make her smile again or at least erase some of the pain from her eyes.

But he kept silent because he knew this was huge. This wasn’t just about him and Emily. It was about him, Emily and Greer.

Greer just better hurry the f**k up.

The two brothers sat in silence while Emily ate her soup. When she was finished, she leaned back against the pillows with a weary sigh. The tears that had stopped briefly while she ate slipped like silver strands over the hollows of her cheeks.

The discomfort in Taggert’s chest grew until it was a physical ache. He looked to Greer for help, but his brother just quietly collected the tray and headed for the door.

Anger tightened Taggert’s features, and he battled the urge to go after Greer and ask him what the hell his problem was. But he didn’t want to leave Emily. Or was that what Greer was trying to tell him? That they should leave Emily alone?

Jesus Christ, now he was looking to his younger brother for guidance?

He felt a million years old. Too old for Emily, too old to feel so helpless.

Fatigue whispered through his veins, mixing with sorrow. He loved Emily, had missed her, but he missed Sean too. Somehow, he’d imagined that one day Emily and Sean would come back home even though he’d resigned himself to never having Emily as anything more than a sister-in-law. As much as he wanted Emily, he’d trade a future with her to have his brother back, because then Emily would smile again.