At least half a dozen times she had picked up the phone to call Melanie or Bastien. But she wasn’t sure she wanted to hear what they’d say. According to Todd, Cliff was struggling and having a hard time coming to terms with what he did.
Emma couldn’t stop thinking about the guards who’d wanted to shove Cliff out into the sunlight while he was sedated. Knowing just how close she had come to losing him terrified her. And she had feared those guards might seek retribution until Cynthia told her Mr. Reordon had been furious over their actions and had either fired or transferred every single guard who’d called for Cliff’s death.
Slumped on the sofa in a tank top and pajama bottoms, Emma rubbed tired, gritty eyes.
She hadn’t been sleeping. Even though exhaustion shadowed her, she was too tense to nap in the evening as had become her habit. And she’d been staying up late at night, hoping Cliff would show up, ring the new doorbell he’d helped her install a few months ago, and sweep her into his arms as soon as she opened the door.
Sighing, she glanced at the bag full of yarn at her feet.
Like Cliff, she had discovered that occupying her hands helped reduce the restlessness that plagued her, so she’d dug out the loom and gone to work. She’d made dozens of the damn hats so far but didn’t stop. Once the box was full, she figured she’d pick out a few to send to her parents, her brother and his wife, and her two nephews, all of whom lived in Michigan. The rest she would donate to a homeless shelter.
Something thumped on the front porch.
Jumping, she twisted around to stare at the door. Her heart began to beat a little faster, not with fear this time but with hope.
The doorbell rang.
Tossing the loom on the table she jumped up, tripped on some of the tangled yarn, and lunged for the door. Though she wanted to open it as soon as she reached it, common sense forced her to pause long enough to look through the peephole.
Relief rushed through her.
Her hands shook as she fumbled with the locks and yanked the door open.
Cliff stared down at her, garbed all in black, his handsome face somber.
Breath hitching, she threw herself against him and hugged him so hard she knocked him back a step.
Swiftly regaining his balance, he wrapped his arms around her and rested his chin on her head while he let her squeeze the stuffing out of him.
“Are you okay?” she murmured.
A moment passed. “Yeah,” he said softly. But he wasn’t. She could hear it in his voice.
It only made her hold him tighter. “If you want to come in, you’re going to have to carry me, because I’m not letting go for at least five minutes.”
A rusty chuckle rumbled beneath the ear she’d pressed to his chest. Then he lifted her a few inches so her feet dangled loosely above the wood slats of the porch. Pressing a kiss to her hair, he strode inside and nudged the door closed behind them.
True to her promise, Emma didn’t let go of him for at least five minutes.
Cliff didn’t object. He merely continued to hold her and seemed willing to do so for as long as she needed it.
At last she loosened her grip.
Cliff gently lowered her feet to the floor and released her.
Tilting her head back, Emma cupped his face in both hands and studied him.
On the surface, he looked good. Hale, hearty, and drop-dead gorgeous.
But his dark brown eyes were haunted.
“Do you want to talk about it?” she asked softly. If he didn’t, she wouldn’t press him.
A sad smile tilted his lips as he drew a hand over her hair, which remained in the lovely braids he’d fashioned for her shortly before his break. “You’re too damn selfless.”
She arched a brow. “Because I’d rather hold you and cop a feel than jibber-jabber?”
He laughed, his eyes crinkling with genuine amusement that warmed her heart. “Or maybe you aren’t.”
Wrapping her arms around his waist in a loose embrace, she leaned into him. “I was worried about you.”
Looping his around her waist, he linked his hands at the base of her spine and lowered his forehead to hers. “I know.” A weary sigh soughed past his lips. “You’re the best thing in my life, Emma. The absolute best. But in a way, that makes dealing with these psychotic breaks even