clinging to him as if he was all that kept her sane. It was as if God had it out for him and was determined to punish him for a multitude of sins.
After several moments she looked up, the shower water running over the top of her head, dripping onto her upturned face. “I knew you’d find me. I counted on it,” she whispered with tears in her eyes.
“I’m sorry I took so long,” he said, as he brushed the wet hair away from her face.
Their gazes held for what seemed like a lifetime. In her he saw doubt mingled with questions, uncertainty, and hesitation. Perhaps what he saw was a reflection of everything he felt in that moment. He had no business getting emotionally involved with anyone when his head was a mess, when his entire life felt like one giant disaster. His brother was dead. Brad had died in his arms and all because he’d been drunk. Too drunk to drive. He should have been the one who was killed. He should be the one buried six feet in dirt and mud. Not Brad. Brad was the good son. The social worker who loved children, the brother who was determined to make a difference in the world, an advocate for change in bettering lives. Nick was the wild child, the college dropout, the one who’d wasted away an entire decade chasing women, partying, being irresponsible and reckless.
By all that was right he should get as far away from Emily Gaffney as he could before he tainted her with the darkness inside him. Get away from her before he dragged her into that dark pit of despair and bitterness. No one was capable of rescuing him. Not his parents. Not his friends. No one, and least of all Emily.
That would have been the smart thing, but it wasn’t what he did. Staying away would have been the prudent action, and he’d already proven beyond all doubt he was anything but practical.
Nick didn’t release her. He didn’t ease her out of the shower or dress her in warm, dry clothes, or tend to her ankle before sending her on her way. Instead, he lowered his mouth to hers and kissed her as if she were his salvation, as if a single, solitary kiss would wipe out all the pain and self-hatred of the last year since Brad had died.
When their lips touched, Nick initially felt token resistance from her but it didn’t last long. Then her arms were around his neck, her fingers in his hair as she opened to him like a flower in the noonday sun. He should have known one taste of her would never be enough, and each subsequent kiss grew more urgent. His need for her was insatiable. His hands framed her face, his fingers gripping hold of her hair, angling her mouth to his as he devoured her in a series of kisses that threatened to overwhelm all sense of self-preservation.
He kissed her again and again until the water started to run cold. A cold shower was exactly what he needed at this point, but not Emily. It took him a moment to gather the resolve to reach for the faucet and turn it off. Leaning his forehead against hers, he drew in several stabilizing breaths as he battled for control.
Once the water was off, Emily started to shiver again. He grabbed a clean towel and helped her out before wrapping her in its thick warmth.
“Take off these wet things and I’ll get you something warm to put on.”
Taking a towel for himself, he wiped his face and started out of the room.
Emily grabbed hold of his hand, stopping him.
He turned back, his eyes questioning.
“Nick…” she said urgently and then paused as if not knowing what more to say.
He responded with a weak smile, and because he couldn’t resist he leaned down and kissed her again.
I’ve had a change of heart when it comes to Nick Schwartz. He went from being a zero to a hero in a single heartbeat when he delivered Emily back to the inn.
Just when I was about to panic, wondering what had happened to my summer boarder, I heard from Nick. Emily was with him at urgent care; she’d fallen and twisted her ankle. Nick had found her, gotten her dry and warm, and then taken her to a local walk-in clinic, although from what he said, she wasn’t walking.