His steps slow, and I throw a pillow at her. But after a second, he continues.
“You bitch,” I say with no venom when the door to the bathroom clicks closed in the distance.
“He seems different,” Harlowe comments, turning back from where Emmett disappeared to face me. “Less guarded.”
Since the first time I met him in the helicopter, the weariness that has clung to Emmett seems to have loosened its hold a fraction.
I don’t doubt the pain is still there. But maybe Timberline Peak is helping him carry it.
CHAPTER
TWENTY-THREE
EMMETT
Laughter drifts through the open windows of the loft.
Even with the TV on low and a muted baseball game flickering across the screen, I can pick out Aspen’s laugh from the chaos of overlapping voices downstairs. Soft. Unrestrained. The kind of sound that settles somewhere under my ribs before I can stop it.
The girls linger long after they start saying goodbye, voices carrying across the driveway while headlights sweep through the loft in passing flashes.
I sit there, listening anyway.
Years of keeping people at arm’s length should’ve dulled the instinct to notice when I’m the topic of conversation. Usually, it’s unpleasant when I catch it happening. Tonight . . . not so much.
Aspen’s flushed cheeks when I walked inside replay on a loop behind my eyes. The way she looked at me like she was remembering exactly what she saw in the shower earlier nearly drove me out of my damn mind.
Not that my body needs much encouragement where she’s concerned lately.
Downstairs, another burst of laughter spills through the night air. Aspen sounds happier than she has since I met her. Less tightly wound.
It does something unexpected to my chest.
A car door slams outside, and Atlas’s voice joins the mix.
If their volume is anything to go by, the tequila never stopped flowing after I escaped upstairs.
“Mr. Taximan, won’t you take me home?” Harlowe sings dramatically.
“There’ll be no funny business in the truck,” Briar warns, failing completely when she dissolves into laughter. “Aspen’s accidental peep show was enough excitement for one night.”
A horrified gasp cuts through the night. Gravel crunches sharp and fast.
“Shut up!” Aspen hisses. “His window is open.”
“Now you care,” Briar slurs around what sounds suspiciously like someone covering her mouth.
“Ow!” Aspen squeaks. “You bit me!”
“You smothered me!”
Their laughter hits again all at once, and before I can stop it, a chuckle slips out of me too.
“I needed this,” Aspen says, softer now.
Something in my chest pulls tight at the quiet honesty in her voice.
“Thanks for coming to get them.”
