been dealt. A husband in a coma for years, one who’d finally succumbed to his injuries only a few months ago. And now his buddy Ethan was apparently being a dick.
“Caldwell will come around,” he said, trying to be encouraging, but he didn’t know the details of her relationship with Ethan, other than that he’d been tight with her late husband, Rick. And, if he was remembering right, Ethan had been on the road with him, the two guys out on their Harleys, when the accident that had taken him from her had happened.
“He won’t,” she whispered. “But that’s my fault. I should go.” She looked past him toward the crowd. “It’s weird, you know? I hate being around people, but I hate being alone in that house even more. I thought I could come down here and forget.” Her entire body shuddered. “I just want to forget everything, and wanting to forget makes me feel so damn guilty. So I drink to dull it all. How pathetic is that?” She looked up at him. “Am I a horrible person for wanting to forget a life I used to love?”
Throat tight, he shook his head. “You’re not horrible. You’re human.”
“I don’t feel human. I don’t feel anything.”
“Why don’t I walk you home?”
She nodded and whispered, “I’d like that.”
“Boone, you coming back or what?”
He turned and spied Wyatt standing a few feet away, a fresh batch of cold beers in hand.
“Nah. I’m going to make sure Emily gets home okay.”
Wyatt Blackwell’s face softened, and when he said hello to Emily, he took a step back. “Okay, but you’re still bringing out your boat tomorrow?”
“My kid won’t let me forget,” Boone replied with a grin.
“All right. See you then.”
Boone stood back to allow Emily to walk past, and the two of them made their way down the darkened path that followed the river. It was a beautiful night, with a blanket full of stars overhead and the heat of the day still sticking to skin. It was the kind of night that tightened his gut and brought back a bunch of memories he’d rather not think about right now. Some of them good, most of them bad.
The two of them crossed the bridge, a comfortable sort of silence falling over them as they made their way down Emily’s street to the cute bungalow she called home.
“This is me,” she said softly, staring at the house with a yard that needed attending to almost as much as the flower gardens that bordered the house and walkway. With weeds standing a foot tall, their growth had overtaken the blooms, and soon they’d be choked out.
He glanced over and found her eyes on him. She made no attempt to hide her pain, not even when she attempted a smile. “Do you want to come in? For a drink or something?” The expression on her face changed, and he got the feeling she was asking for more than a drink.
“I should probably go,” he replied lightly. “I’ve got a big day with my boy tomorrow.”
If she was surprised at his refusal, she didn’t show it. With a small wave, Emily made her way up to her front door and, once it was open, looked over her shoulder at him. “You’re a good man, Boone Avery.”
“I know a few folks who wouldn’t agree with that.”
She held his gaze a heartbeat longer and walked inside her house. He waited until she closed the door, and then continued on his way. Eventually, he took a left and then another right, which brought him to the street he’d grown up on. His mother’s place was dark, and yet he heard Benji’s giggles echoing on the night breeze that swept past him. For all of two seconds, he thought he might head to the backyard and join them, but, feeling restless and a whole bunch of things he didn’t have a name for, he climbed into his truck and pointed it toward the lake and the place he now called home.
More than just a home, the estate was one of the largest in the area and boasted a boathouse with living quarters overhead, a separate three-car garage with a huge entertainment room above it, and a manicured lawn for tossing the ball around. The main house sat on a hill that overlooked the lake. It had cost a small fortune, and he’d bought it years ago because he knew it would piss off his old man.
Funny enough, the first time he’d