Songbird(3)

She closed her eyes and swayed in Taggert’s grip, biting her lip, welcoming the pain as a distraction.

“Don’t call me that,” she rasped. “Never again.”

Taggert caught her chin in his fingers and feathered his thumb across her jaw. “You will sing again, Emmy. In time. When you’re ready.”

She shook her head mutely, but he just held firm and stared back at her as if infusing her with his will.

“Yes, you will. You’re coming home. You’ll heal. You’ll live again. You’ll sing.”

Chapter Two

“We should have driven,” Taggert muttered. He sank lower in his seat as the plane began its taxi.

“Why didn’t you?” Emily asked curiously as she glanced over at him. Taggert’s dislike of flying was hardly secret. In fact, she couldn’t remember the last time he’d willingly got on a plane.

“We were in a hurry to get to you,” Greer said.

She looked down at her hands, surprised at how numb she still was even after being dragged out of her apartment by the two brothers. It was all a little surreal, and at any moment she expected to wake up staring at her plain white ceiling just like every other day.

Taggert reached over and folded his hand over hers, his thumb rubbing over the side of her wrist.

“You had to know we’d come, Emmy.”

She swallowed but couldn’t say anything. She hadn’t known they’d come. They’d made their feelings and wishes perfectly clear four years ago. They couldn’t have been any clearer.

Greer sighed and shifted uncomfortably, his knees pressing into the seat in front of him.

“Lean over on me and get some sleep,” he directed. “You look like you could use some rest, and it’s a long-ass flight.”

With the armrests up on either side of her, leaning into either man was easy. Greer shifted his arm up and over her, and she nestled into the crook of his shoulder.

Taggert kept hold of her hand, and it struck her that this was the only time in years either man had allowed himself to touch her. Oh, there’d been casual, quick hugs. Perfunctory kisses on the cheek when she and Sean made the trip back, but the trips became fewer when she could no longer bear the strain and Sean couldn’t bear to see her unhappy.

Because of her, he’d left the only place he’d ever called home, and he’d never gotten the chance to go back until they brought him to Mountain Pass in a casket.

Why now? Why were they changing their approach with her? Now, when it was too late. Four years ago she would have given her soul for them to understand, for them to accept her love—for all of them. Sean had understood. Why hadn’t Taggert and Greer?

Her anger surprised her, sudden like a flashflood. For so long she’d felt nothing but overwhelming sorrow and regret, and now the red-hot glow of rage simmered within.

“We never meant to hurt you, Emmy,” Greer whispered close to her ear.

Had he felt her anger? Could he sense it boiling?

Not now. Not here. Maybe never, but definitely not here, trapped with all these people.

“Rest,” Taggert ordered. “Lay off, Greer. There’ll be plenty of time to hash it out when we get home.”

Instead of being irritated at his dictate, she sighed in relief and closed her eyes against Greer’s chest. She willed herself to go to sleep, if for no other reason than to avoid meaningless chitchat, or worse, a conversation that had the potential to reopen old wounds.

She slept deep and dreamlessly, and when she woke to Taggert’s gentle shaking, she had to orient herself to her surroundings. The plane was nearly empty, and Taggert pulled himself out of his seat and into the aisle before reaching a hand back for her.

Still fighting the heavy veil of sleep, she allowed him to pull her from her seat. She stumbled a little, and Tagg caught her with a firm hand to her elbow.

“Easy,” he murmured. “Don’t try to take it too fast.”

She hadn’t slept that hard in a year, and she wondered why now, on an uncomfortable flight? She didn’t have to look too hard for her answer. Taggert and Greer made her feel safe. They always had. Maybe they were right to make her come home, even if it would be the most difficult thing she’d ever done.

Barely aware of her surroundings, she managed to walk dazedly off the plane. She stood at the gate, confused by where to go next. Greer slipped an arm around her waist and urged her forward.

There were no suitcases to collect. Everything she’d taken was shoved into a small overnight bag. She’d opted to just walk away, and maybe that’s what she did best. Run. Tagg and Greer had said they’d take care of her apartment and her belongings, and she let them, too emotionally wrung out to focus on anything more than taking her next breath.

She accepted long ago that she was weak. A strong person would never have existed as she had for the last year. She was a coward who took the path of least resistance, but she recognized her limitations and knew that even if she wanted to be more resilient, she’d fail. She’d died with Sean, only her body was too stupid to realize it.

Greer and Taggert herded her toward the parking area and into a new-looking blue SUV.

“Where’s the Dooley?” she asked faintly. The red, extended cab diesel truck was as much a fixture of the MPR as the Donovan brothers.

Tagg threw the luggage in the back while Greer opened the passenger door for Emily.