I nod, waiting. There’s more, though, I can see it in the tremble of her bottom lip.
Her fingers curl into the blanket, tugging it to her chin. “Emmett . . He was scared out of his mind and so confused. Kept asking if he’d get home again and worrying about his cat. I had to hold his shaking hands—keep him calm.” She sniffles, wiping at her eyes. “By the time I got to the shower, I just fell apart. Didn’t care about the smell or the mess. I just stood there and let it out until I heard someone else come in, then I cleaned myself up, changed into my spare scrubs, and left.”
Her voice softens, red-rimmed eyes finding mine. “Some days are harder than others.”
I shift closer, unable to sit back and do nothing. Taking her feet into my lap, I rub slow circles over her arch with my thumbs.
A moan falls from her lips at the contact, shooting straight to my groin, but I don’t allow it to take root, focusing my attention back where it belongs.
“I get that,” I murmur. “You spend all day holding everyone else together. At some point, you’re bound to crash. Even the strongest can only carry so much.”
She melts deeper into the couch cushions. “I hate that letting it hit me makes me feel like I’m failing, when I know it’s just part of the work.” Her voice cracks slightly, the exhaustion seeping through. “I love what I do.”
“Everyone sees that,” I say quietly. “All of it. Hell, I’m new to town, and I see it—how selfless you are; always the first to help and last to rest.” My hands knead the arches of her feet, slow and steady. “The extra hours, how you make time for your friends, the way you’ve helped me. It’s okay to take time for yourself, though. To let someone put you first. Maybe for tonight, you let me take care of you.”
She exhales, shuddering softly. “What are we even doing here, Emmett?” She laughs, but there’s no humor in her tired smile. “You’re rubbing my feet, being sweet. You said you didn’t have more to offer, but this feels like more.”
She’s so fucking right.
I swallow hard, dragging a hand over my jaw like I can physically hold myself together. “I don’t know.” The confession comes rough. Honest. “All I know is I can’t stop myself where you’re concerned.”
“And what if I don’t want you to?”
God.
My eyes close for half a second because hearing her say that feels like standing too close to the edge of something I won’t survive.
“Aspen . . .” Her name is a strained warning. “You make me want things I stopped letting myself have a long time ago.”
Her expression softens, but I force myself to keep going before she can answer.
“You make me want to be a better man, even if only for a little while. But I’m not, Aspen.” I shake my head. “You’ve had a hell of a day. You’re exhausted. Sleep on this. If you still want me tomorrow, we’ll talk.”
“You don’t get to decide that.”
The words hit like a direct shot to the chest.
“I told you I needed to think about things, and I’ve done enough thinking.” Her eyes hold mine. “I wanted you before theshower, Emmett. After it . . .” The breath she releases is as shaky as I feel. “God, I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”
Every muscle in my body locks tight.
“You want me to put myself first?” she whispers. “What I want right now is for you to kiss me.”
Kiss me.
Two words and every ounce of restraint I’ve been clinging to goes to hell.
My hands find her waist and I’m dragging her into my lap, her knees coming down to bracket my hips. “You want a kiss, Angel?” The blanket slips to the floor along with every excuse I can come up with. This feels like exactly where we are meant to be.
Her eyes are half-lidded as they fall to my lips. And, fuck, if that doesn’t make my dick jump in my pants.
“Yeah. I think I do, Hotshot.”
CHAPTER
TWENTY-SEVEN
ASPEN
