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Remy slowly nodded. “Let me know if you need anything. Come stay with Mikel and me if you want a place.”
“Thanks.” Emma spun around and numbly made her way down the hall towards the glowing red exit sign. The automatic doors swished open, and she hesitated, pausing as someone brushed past her. Was she ready to go out into a world where her father didn’t exist anymore? Emma’s hands trembled.
Link. Link needed her.
She placed one foot in front of the other making her way to the parking lot. The cold cut through her unzipped leather jacket. She welcomed the icy spikes of the New England January wind. Pain helped her focus, drew her out of her head. She slipped her helmet on and started the engine. After kicking her motorcycle into gear, she focused on the road ahead of her, never behind—nothing good ever came from her past.
Twenty minutes later, she pulled into Link’s driveway. His black Chevelle with white pinstripes and his tow truck took up most of the space. Memories flooded over her as she admired the shiny frame of the car he and their dad had spent hours rebuilding. Emma had helped when she was home too, but mostly she’d just watched and listened.
“No daughter of mine is gonna rely on someone else to change her oil,” her dad had joked. He’d always pushed her to do things for herself. She had him to thank for being such an independent woman.
And now he’s gone.
She climbed off her bike and headed to Link’s door. She knocked, bouncing from one foot to the next nervously. She hadn’t been here in years.
A grunt came from the other side, but he never came.
She knocked again and tried the handle. It was open, so she let herself in. “Link?”
“Go away,” Link growled from the couch before tipping the tumbler of amber liquid to his lips. He drained the glass and then poured another. The dim light from a lone lamp illuminated half of him while leaving the other in shadow. He hunched over, elbows on his knees as his head hung low.
A small smile tipped the corner of Emma’s mouth before she shut the door behind her. He’d told her to go away when they were kids, but he’d never meant it. Slipping off her Doc Martens, she responded as she always had, “Make me.”
She slid next to him on the couch.
Link had already drained the second glass. His glazed eyes darted to her. “You going to drink or just run your mouth?”
She grabbed the bottle from his hand and took a long pull. It burned going down. She coughed and handed it back to him. “That tastes like shit. Do you have any tequila?”
He nodded towards the kitchen.
Emma got up and opened cupboards until she found what she was looking for. She grabbed a couple of shot glasses, salt and, after scouring the fridge for any citrus, she settled on a bottle of lime juice. Beggars couldn’t be choosers.
She set up her supplies on the coffee table as Link downed more bourbon.
“Auntie Yaa will fly in from Ghana in a week.” He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.
“I can’t believe he’s gone,” she admitted.
Link stared at the empty cup, tears dripping over his face. “He’s all I had left.”
“Hey.” Emma wrapped her arms around him, bringing him into her embrace. “We still have each other. I’m here for you . . . I know we haven’t been close in a while, but we can fix that.”
He nodded, pulling away enough to pour another glass of alcohol.
“Better slow down or you’re gonna black out and have one hell of a headache tomorrow.” Emma poured the tequila into the shot glasses.
“Maybe that’s what I want,” Link grumbled.
She looked at him, taking the time to study the strong cut of his jaw. His eyes were so dark, they were the color of a midnight sky—just like their dad’s. The short dreadlocks on the top half of his head were pulled into a ponytail, the bottom half shaved in a fade. Her gaze wandered down his neck, over the prominent Adam’s apple she wanted to taste, trailing his collarbone, to the wide expanse of his muscular naked chest and the defined eight-pack of abs. Fuck. Heat flooded her body, and it had nothing to do with the bourbon.
Of all the people in the world, why did Link have to affect her so?
“Jussss tonight,” he said, obviously mistaking her silent ogling for concern at his overindulgence.
She lifted her shot glass. “Just tonight.”
The corner of his mouth turned up as he clinked his glass to hers and downed the shot without the salt or the lime juice. He didn’t even wince.
