Songbird(13)

He shook his head bitterly.

“Even now, all I can think of is taking her to bed and showing her just how much I love her. She’s hurt, she’s grieving, and I can’t get close to her without wanting to make love to her. How big of a bastard does that make me?”

“Christ, if you’re asking my blessing,” Taggert said in disgust.

Greer clenched his fingers into fists and turned on Taggert. “Fuck you. I’m not asking you for any goddamn favors.”

“Look, I’m sorry,” Taggert said wearily. “This is one big goddamn mess. I don’t have the answers. I never did or we wouldn’t be standing here over Sean’s grave arguing and feeling like the two biggest dumbasses this side of the Mississippi.”

“Agreed,” Greer clipped out. “Fuck me but I don’t know what to do.”

Taggert toed a line in the soil with the tip of his boot then kicked up a clump of the grass. “Seems to me like you ought to at least talk to Emily. Let her know your feelings and all that bullshit. Jesus, this is a hell of a conversation to be having with my younger brother. You know what I mean, though. Talk to her, for f**k’s sake. We’ve got a second chance here. Let’s not blow it.”

“She loved Sean,” Greer said quietly. He turned to stare at Taggert, needing his confidence. “What if what she felt for us was girlish infatuation, what we feared she felt at the time? Or what if her love died when we pushed her away? She and Sean were happy. I don’t believe for a minute he was some substitute for what she couldn’t have.”

“She loved…loves us all,” Taggert said. “It seems simple enough now, though back then it sounded so farfetched.”

“Or maybe we just want to believe it now.”

“Look, believe what you want to believe,” Taggert said impatiently. “I’m not going to try and convince you. I get that you’re worried. I get that you’re having second thoughts now that she’s here and we’re not talking about abstracts and possibilities. But if you love her—if you want her—how the f**k can you stand by and do nothing?”

“You make it sound so simple.”

“It is simple. Pull your head out of your ass, for God’s sake.”

Greer chuckled, suddenly feeling a little lighter. “You do have a way with words, Tagg.”

“Well Christ, you’re getting positively moody on me.”

“Okay, okay, I get it. I’m a dumbass.”

For a moment, his gaze flickered back to Sean’s grave, and a spasm of pain squeezed his heart.

“I miss him, man,” he said softly.

Taggert followed his gaze to the headstone, his expression sad. “I miss him too. He was too young to die.”

Chapter Seven

Emily woke in darkness, her senses more alert than they’d been in a long time. For a moment she just lay there, staring up at the ceiling, tears crowding her eyes. How easily they came now when before they’d been locked behind an impenetrable barrier.

Strangely, she didn’t hurt quite as much as she had. In some ways she supposed it had been like cutting a festering sore to allow the infection to drain away. Poison. It had built in her system until she’d been staggered by her grief and pain.

She turned her head, seeking confirmation of the time, and gasped when she saw a dark outline by the window. He turned when he heard her, and it was then she saw it was Greer, pale moonlight spilling over his solemn features.

“I’m sorry I scared you,” he said quietly.

She couldn’t very well say he hadn’t since her heart still pounded like a jackhammer.

“What are you doing here?”

She rubbed her throat when the words came out in a barely audible croak. She’d really done a number on her voice. Frank would have had a heart attack if he could hear her.

Her hand froze as she thought about Frank—and the fact she hadn’t talked to him in nearly a year. She’d been too busy running.

Greer flipped the lamp on, illuminating the bed in its soft glow. He sat on the edge and turned, sliding one knee onto the mattress as he stared down at her.

She swallowed nervously and wrung her fingers until they were numb. He looked so serious. So grave. This was the first time she’d really faced him since that day four years ago when she’d blurted out her feelings. No wonder he and Taggert had reacted the way they did. It hadn’t been well done of her at all. Nearly hysterical after the confrontation with her father, she’d felt as though her options had run out.

How many times had she wished she could have that day back?

Greer picked up her ravaged fingers and brought them to his lips. He kissed each one, his eyes glowing vibrantly in the light.

She watched in fascination at the tenderness he displayed, at the regard that went beyond simple affection for a girl he once knew. For a sister-in-law.

She couldn’t wrap her brain around it. First Taggert with his declaration of love—had she imagined it? Was she finally losing what was left of her mind?

Why now?

The same question echoed over and over. What had changed?

“Do you want me to stay with you, Emmy?”

His warm, husky voice vibrated over her skin, leaving her awash in want. Need. So much need.

“Because if I stay, I’m going to make love to you.”