And then he said, “I already did.”
“You already went to Chicago?” It was hard to talk with my heart in my throat.
“I just got back.”
Did that mean…?
My vision got dim around the edges, and I had to put my hand on the doorframe to keep me standing. It had been four days since I’d seen him. It had been enough time for him to… to do a lot of things.
“Emily.” Gently, he gripped my arm, trying to help support me. “What’s wrong?”
“It wasn’t him. Your uncle didn’t kill her.”
He bent down to meet my eyes. “Do you know something? Or are you saying it’s me again?”
“Not you.” I took a deep breath to clear the cloud of dread. “Amber left a message. You should hear it. Come in. Please.”
Reluctantly he let go of me so he could walk through the door. When it shut, he locked the deadbolt behind him, and, if I weren’t so worried about what might have happened with Vilanakis, I might have chuckled at the gesture. Once upon a time, that sort of behavior from him would have frightened the hell out of me.
Now, I knew he was simply concerned about keeping me safe.
“She left a message?”
“Uh, yeah. This way.” I indicated for him to follow me to the dining room, and as we walked the handful of yards to get there, I chided myself again for not stopping him sooner and fretted over the awkward tension between us and also reveled in his presence, how just being near him made me feel all jumbled and dizzy and agitated.
I stopped short at the entrance of the dining room, not remembering that I’d thrown the answering machine to the floor until I saw it now on the floor. “Just one sec,” I said apologetically as I leaned down to pick up the device, praying that I hadn’t broken it during my tantrum.
I set it on the table, and with shaky hands, cued up the saved messages and skipped to the second one. It started playing – thankfully – and bit my lip, not wanting to hear her message again but wanting to be there for Reeve when he did.
I watched him as he listened, following every shift in his expression. I could tell when he realized she’d heard us by the slight twitch of his eye. And when the color left his face, I could tell he’d figured out what she’d done.
Before she’d finished, he sank into a chair. Then, when it was over, he sat motionless, processing.
“My God,” he said softly after what seemed like forever. “I had no idea. That she would do that. Did you?”
“She’d mentioned that she wanted to end things once before.” I didn’t add that it had been when he’d kept her on the ranch. He didn’t need that extra guilt. “That had been in the past, though. I had no idea she still felt that way.”
“We couldn’t have known,” he said emphatically, as if he feared I would blame myself.
“No. We couldn’t have known.” I leaned against one side of the arch that served as the entrance to the room, hating that the distance between us was a barrier when there were already so many other less tangible barriers between us as well. I wanted to hold him. Shouldn’t I be holding him? Shouldn’t we be consoling each other and comforting each other and loving each other at a time like this? Shouldn’t we be doing that all the time?
I supposed that’s what he’d been trying to do all along. And I’d pushed him away.
Damn, did the truth ache.
Reeve glanced at the answering machine. “Was that message the reason this was on the floor?”
I blushed. “Yeah. It, uh, made me mad.” I furrowed my brows trying to figure out how to explain how I’d felt and what I’d realized in the last thirty minutes of my life. I knew that getting the words right wasn’t as important as just getting them out. “It made me mad because it was so damn manipulative.”
His head lifted slightly. “Oh?”
“It was all manipulative. Everything she did. I see that now. She controlled me, and I let her.” I avoided his eyes and scratched absentmindedly at my collarbone. “You were right. All the things you said about us – about me – they were right.”
“I shouldn’t have —”
“No, you should have,” I said, interrupting him. “I appreciate that you said it. I mean, I didn’t at the time, but I do now. I’m sorry I didn’t get it earlier.” I braved a glance up at him, and when my eyes met his, so full and earnest, I thought I’d melt.
But Michelis. “So Chicago! What happened?” I barely dared to ask.
“Chicago.” He stood, drawing out the word as he walked toward me, and for a minute I forgot I was waiting for him to talk and instead hoped he was coming to me, finally. Hoping he would finally put his arms around me.
I swore, if he did, this time I’d never let him let me go.
But he passed by me, ending up at the opposite wall of the arch. He leaned against it, mirroring my stance. “I just got back, actually.”
“You said that. Did you…?” It worried me that he hadn’t just come out and said what happened already. “Is it bad?” I wrung my hands, waiting.
“Emily,” he said softly. “I didn’t hurt him.”
Relief filled my chest so fully I was surprised my bra still fit comfortably.
“I couldn’t,” he continued. “I know you want me to be that kind of man. The kind who could kill someone, and I could. But not him. Not for this. I thought I could. But then I was there and I realized…”
I was still and composed on the outside, but inside, my heart was running a million miles a minute and my belly was twisting, coiling with anticipation. “Realized what?”