Page 99 of The Clover Chapel (Jamison Valley 2)
Nick pulled me into his lap and cradled me while I cried. And even though I was mad, I clung to his neck. The reality of the situation settled in and I was scared. My body shook with suppressed terror as my chest heaved. But safe in Nick’s arms, I let the emotions out and gave my fears to him. It took a while but when my sobs turned into soft whimpers, he started talking.
“I got angry because I was fucking
scared, Emmy. When Jess told me that fucker had held a gun to your head, I wanted him dead. But I couldn’t drive to that trailer and kill the motherfucker, so I got pissed. And I took it out on you. I’m sorry.”
“I didn’t know that would happen. I just went there to talk to Mason’s aunt. He was starving today. He was digging through my trash to find food. I had to do something.”
“I get it. Why you went there,” he said. “I shouldn’t have left when we got back but I needed to let off some steam. It wasn’t about you. Forgive me?”
“You can’t leave me when things are bad, Nick,” I said. “It brings back too many old feelings. Maybe someday we can get in a fight and you can run through the woods to cool off. But not right now. You have to talk to me first so I know you’ll come back.”
“I’ll always come back. But I won’t leave again when we’re fighting.”
“Promise?”
“Promise,” he said. “Just don’t pull a stunt like that again.”
“Okay.” I nodded.
He could rest assured that I would never go to a student’s house unannounced again. And I wouldn’t be meddling in Child Protective Services’ business either.
“And we don’t wear pajamas in this bed.”
I smiled against his chest. “Okay.”
Nick
“Come on, Emmy. Put your back into it. Quit fucking around.”
Keeping a straight face while I watched her was nearly impossible. Her feet were sliding backward over Costco’s concrete floor as she tried to push a flatbed cart loaded with over three hundred pounds of pancake mix, syrup, chocolate chips and peanut butter. Her face turned nearly as red as her hair every time she held her breath and pushed against the handle bar. The cart would rock an inch but move no further.
“Fine! You were right. I can’t do it,” she huffed. “I’m too small.”
Pouting with her arms crossed, she looked more like one of her kindergarteners than a thirty-two-year-old woman.
It was adorable as hell.
If we had a daughter one day, I wished she would get her mother’s redheaded temper. Emmy usually kept it in check, but when she let that fire go, I was hard within seconds. Even when I was pissed at her.
“Told you so.” I smirked, hoping to get her eye roll.
She didn’t disappoint.
“Move over, Wife. Let a man take over,” I said.
“Shall I wait until you thump your fist on your chest and let out a caveman roar? Or are you ready to go now?”
“Funny.” With one hand, I set the cart in motion. From the corner of my eye, I didn’t miss another eye roll.
“Do you think you can manage the cart?” Eye roll number three. I was going to try for seven today, a new record.
“What else is on the list?” I asked.
“Eggs. Bacon. Sausage. Coffee.”
“Let’s get the coffee first and put in on the flatbed. Then the meat. You can take all the eggs in the cart.”
Tomorrow was the Prescott Fire Department’s annual pancake breakfast. Every year, the fire station put on a huge fundraising breakfast the Sunday before Easter. Even though it was a fuck load of work, it was one of my favorite things about my job.
