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Emmy opened the fridge and snagged one of the Pepsis he always kept on hand for her. Calen went with water, figuring his four, maybe five, cups of coffee were enough caffeine. He didn’t want to deal with jitters around Emmy because now that the silence had settled in around them, so had the wariness in her eyes.
“All right, I’m just going to come out and say it,” she started. “About that kiss. I’m sorry—”
Without thinking, something he should have done, Calen leaned in and kissed her. He didn’t make it deep or scalding, though that was something the brainless part of him wanted to do. Nope. It was more of athere, we’re even, which of course was nonsense. Because even a tamethere, we’re evenkiss with Emmy packed a punch. He could have sworn the heat and the need doubled his body temp.
She blinked as he pulled back, and when she met his gaze, the wariness was gone. That was the good news. The bad news was that she was almost certainly feeling some scalp to toes heat, too.
Hell’s bells.
Talk about opening Pandora’s box. Suddenly, he was craving another kiss. Something long, deep, and hot. But there was no way it’d stay just a kiss. Nope. They were both still in control of their lust, but Calen was betting that control wasn’t strong enough to survive more kissing. And that’s why he started talking. If he talked, he couldn’t use his mouth and tongue for other things.
“I don’t want to lose your friendship,” Calen reminded her. Reminded himself, too.
“Neither do I,” Emmy readily agreed. “You’re the first person I want to talk to if something goes wrong. Or if it goes right.”
He was totally with her. It had been that way as long as Calen could remember. Their closeness probably had to do with their both having had difficult childhoods. They’d lost their moms when they were thirteen—Calen’s mom had died from breast cancer, and Emmy’s mother had been killed in a car accident. Those losses left them to be raised by less than stellar fathers. Unlike Waylon though, Emmy’s dad had left town shortly after Emmy started college, and he hadn’t ever returned; she’d learned years later that he’d drowned during a fishing trip.
She paused, staring at him. “Just how strong do you think our friendship is?”
Everything inside Calen went still. “Strong,” he assured her, though that was a partial lie. He wasn’t sure it could survive a sexual relationship if said relationship went south.
“How strong?” she pressed, but then she huffed and waved the question off. “I’m just going to assume it’s very, very strong and give you this.”
At first, he thought Emmy was going to kiss him again, probably because he was still dwelling on her mouth. But no kiss. Instead, she pulled something from the back pocket of her jeans and thrust it at him.
He eyed the envelope that she unfolded. Eyed her. And when she didn’t offer an explanation, his attention landed on the writing. It was addressed to him.
Specifically, to him from Emmy.
Still puzzled, he glanced at the postmark. Then, he growled out another, “Well, hell.” Because the date was from seventeen years ago when Emmy and he had been eighteen.
“The letter was in the first bag I found,” she explained. “In fact, it was sitting on top.”
As explanations went, it was a little thin. “And you took it?”
She nodded.
Again, not much of an explanation. “Why?” he pressed.
Emmy leveled her eyes on him. “Read it, and you’ll know why.”
Calen was reasonably sure he’d rather read a four-thousand-page treatise on the life cycle of a flea, but that was only because it wouldn’t turn his life upside down. He suspected whatever was in this letter might do just that. Still, he couldn’t just blow off her request, not when the letter was obviously troubling Emmy enough to take it from the bag and then bring it to him.
Wishing it wasn’t too early for a shot of the whiskey he might need, Calen opened the envelope and took out the single-page handwritten letter. Even though his voice suddenly felt a little unsteady, he read it aloud.
“Calen, I didn’t want to ring in another new year without telling you how much you mean to me. You’re probably going to be shocked to hear this, but I’m in love with you.”
He stopped. Had to. And he dragged in a fast breath. He didn’t look at Emmy. Calen just focused on getting through the rest of the letter. Then, he’d deal with the five words that were flashing in his mind like a big-ass neon sign.
I’m in love with you.
Powerful words indeed, but he reminded himself that Emmy had written them when she was eighteen. Technically an adult, but still very young. It was possible she hadn’t known what she was saying. Possible, too, that she no longer felt the same way.
“I’m guessing my confession surprises you,” he continued to read, “but I don’t want you to say anything right away. Please think about it for a day or two and then call me. Of course, if you decide not to mention it at all, I’ll understand. If that’s what you decide, I will still always love you in secret while forever and always being your best friend.”
She’d signed itLove, Emmy. Simple. Straightforward. And like a blasted arrow to his heart. Crap. What was he supposed to say now? What was he to think, especially with that whole “love you in secret” clause?
He cleared his throat, hoping the right words would magically spout from his mouth. They didn’t. Thankfully though, he came up with something rather than just standing there, looking as if she’d sucker punched him.
