Let It Be Me (Men of the Misfit Inn Book 1) Read online

  After a long moment, Fiona’s grip loosened, and Caleb slipped out of the room. On the way through the familiar labyrinth of hallways, he braced himself for what was coming. It didn’t matter how many times he’d had to do it, these notifications never got any easier.

  A water-logged woman stood at the triage desk, her hands white-knuckling the edge as she clearly struggled not to scream at the nurse on duty. “I was told she’s here. I need to see her.”

  “Ma’am, as I said, if you’re not family—”

  “How many times do I have to tell you? Her father is not involved. I’m her godmother. I am the next closest thing to family.”

  “Emerson Aldridge?”

  The woman whipped her head around at the sound of Caleb’s voice. The carefully rehearsed words bled out of his brain as panicked blue eyes met his. The relative chaos of the waiting room faded away as he fell into those eyes, soaking up the sense of recognition, even though he knew he’d never seen her before.

  It’s you.

  Startled by his own thought, he snapped out of his stupor and closed the distance and nodded to the nurse. “I’ve got this, Janette.”

  “Where’s Fiona?”

  “I’ll take you to her. C’mon.” He gestured toward the double doors, and she hustled toward them. “I’m Caleb Romero—the one who called you. You need to know right off that Fiona is okay. Minor injuries.” It was the only comfort he’d be able to offer her tonight.

  A little of the terror etched on her face faded as they pushed through the doors. But Emerson was sharp. “Could you not reach her mother?”

  This was the part he hadn’t wanted to tell her over the phone. Navigating her into one of the empty rooms off to the side, he shut the door. Emerson didn’t move toward any of the chairs. Her whole body drew taut, and he recognized that, deep down, she already knew what was coming.

  Tunneling a hand through his hair, Caleb sighed. “Fiona’s mother was in the car. She didn’t make it.”

  Like a puppet with suddenly cut strings, Emerson collapsed. It was instinct to catch her, to pull her against his body, as if he could somehow offer protection from the truth. She sucked in a ragged breath, and he waited for the scream of rage and pain. But she didn’t make a sound as she wilted into him, her hands curled to ineffectual fists against his chest. Her silent, potent grief swamped them both for long minutes. Caleb felt a little like a voyeur. He didn’t know this woman. But he knew this pain. So he held her, until she found the strength to stand again.

  “You were there?” The question rasped out, as if her vocal cords had been torched.

  “I saw it happen. I pulled Fiona out. There wasn’t—” He stopped himself. The driver’s side of the car had taken the brunt of the impact. She didn’t need that horror in her head. “Her mom was already gone.”

  Emerson closed her eyes, absorbing that. Maybe she’d take comfort in the fact that death had been all but instant.

  “Thank you for saving Fi.” Her throat worked as she swallowed. “Does she know?”

  “Yes.”

  She visibly armored up, pulling herself together for the sake of the child in a way that impressed the hell out of him. As she straightened, she seemed to register she was still pressed against him. A faint tinge of embarrassment brought color back to her pale cheeks.

  Caleb forced himself to drop his arms and step back. “Are you up to seeing her now?”

  She sucked in a breath and squared her shoulders. “Take me to her.”

  The moment they stepped through the door to the room, Fiona broke. Emerson didn’t hesitate, edging onto the bed and pulling the girl tight into her arms as she sobbed, even as tears tracked down her own cheeks.

  Eventually, the unintelligible cries turned into words. “I don’t want to go to my grandparents. You know what they’re like.”

  Emerson’s face went fierce. “Not a chance in hell, baby. Your…” She swallowed. “Your mom made provisions. You’re with me.”

  Everything in her posture and expression said she’d go to war for this kid.

  Some tension in Caleb released. They had a long road to go, but he had a feeling these two would be just fine.

  Chapter 2

  4 Years Later

  Emerson braced her hands on the kitchen counter and summoned every ounce of Mom-sternness she could manage. “Child, you have got to pack.”

  Fiona swiped a Coke out of the fridge and shrugged with a nonchalance that had Emerson’s blood pressure rising. “Eh.”

  She was a good kid. A great one, in fact. At no point during the dreaded high school years had she given Emerson more than a few silver hairs, and those had readily been dealt with by her stylist. There’d been no worrisome brushes with boys, no drinking, no excessive partying, and she’d been an exceptional student, all of which Emerson was eternally grateful for. But this whole college thing just might be the death of her. Or Fiona. She wasn’t sure which.

  Tamping down her frustration, she trailed her goddaughter down the hall, past the dining room that had been turned into a staging area, full of neatly ordered—by Emerson—piles of bedding, towels, bathroom gear, a microwave, shoe pockets and other detritus associated with freshman living, all packed, labeled, and ready to go. By contrast, the upstairs bedroom Fi swung into looked like a bomb had gone off. She had yet to pack any clothes or toiletries or the personal pictures and knickknacks that were a mark of home. Emerson didn’t know if this was typical teenage procrastination or a sign of Fiona’s true reluctance to go off to college.

  She worried about that. Despite the fact that the kid could’ve gone out for Best Teen of the Year at any point, worry about Fi had been Emerson’s default state since she became guardian to her best friend’s child. Every day had been joy and grief as she saw Micah’s eyes looking back at her. She’d done right by her goddaughter, fulfilling to the best of her ability the promise she’d made senior year of high school, when Fiona had been born and Micah’s parents had disowned her. But she’d never stopped questioning whether it was enough, whether she’d gotten it right.

  Pinching the bridge of her nose, Emerson sent up a prayer. Micah, give me patience for our girl. “Fiona.”

  Fi flopped into the lipstick-pink moon chair that was one of the few surfaces in the room not currently draped with clothes. “There’s time.”

  “Honey, move-in day is tomorrow.” It wasn’t as if she was ready for the girl to move out. A part of Emerson still wanted to wrap her in cotton and shield her from the world. But facts were facts. This was happening. All the paperwork was signed, the scholarship awarded. Fiona Elizabeth Gaffney was matriculating as a freshman tomorrow.

  Thick, gold lashes hid her eyes as she shrugged again. “Yeah, but I’d rather spend the time with you. It’s our last night together.”

  Twin surges of love and frustration shot through Emerson. She’d made Fi the center of her world. It was what they’d both needed. But moments like this, she wondered if she’d gone too far in that direction. Had they become codependent? Had she hobbled Fiona’s natural progression to independence? Was she pushing her baby bird out of the nest too soon?

  Whatever response she might have made was interrupted by a familiar knock on the back door. Fiona brightened, shooting out of her room like a rocket and bouncing past Emerson to fly downstairs.

  She sighed. There’d be no packing now.

  The low rumble of a male voice reached her before she got to the kitchen. Pausing in the hall to steel herself for the encounter, she called herself an idiot.

  It’s just Caleb.

  Caleb Romero, their neighbor and resident hero, had become a familiar fixture over the years. In the weeks after the accident, he’d come by to check on them both. He’d been an unexpected anchor during turbulent times, at first helping out with things like the yard or picking up groceries, when they were both too overwhelmed to manage. Then he’d stuck around, popping over to drag them out to a movie or ball game, making sure they got out and lived a little. />
  When the house next door had gone up for sale, he’d bought it. And somehow he’d become a regular part of their lives. Over time, Fi’s hero worship had evolved to something somewhere between friend, brother, and crush. And Emerson…well, she’d developed an improbable friendship with the younger man. If she objectively recognized he could stand in for a great many of the romance heroes she narrated, she was blaming it on the day job. And his six-pack abs. It didn’t mean anything but that she appreciated God’s sense of the artistic. He was way too young for her.

  But that didn’t stop her hormones from standing up and dancing a jig when he flashed that familiar grin in her direction as she came into the kitchen. Those double-barrel dimples had landed him as Mr. January in the local firefighter’s calendar the last two years running. “Hey, Em.”

  “Hey.” She resisted the urge to fan herself and grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge instead. “What brings you by this lovely August evening?”

  He held up a gift bag. “I brought a dorm-warming gift for the graduate.”

  Emerson’s heart turned to goo, even as Fiona made grabby hands.

  “Oooo! Thank you! Gimme!”

  Laughing, Caleb handed the bag over.

  “Can I open it now?”

  “Sure.” He kicked back against the counter beside Emerson, crossing his arms over his chest. She averted her eyes so as not to gawk at how the gesture emphasized his pecs. As if she didn’t know.

  Fiona pulled a square plastic thing out of tissue paper, angling her head to read the label. “A microwave bacon tray?”

  “I know how much you love bacon. Seems a shame to miss out on it in the dorm.”

  Laughing, she bounced over and gave him a side hug. “Thank you. That was really thoughtful. And you should totally stay for dinner tonight.”

  Emerson nearly choked on her water. Not that they didn’t hang with him on the regular, but she usually had prior notice to prepare herself.

  “You’re not on duty until tomorrow morning, right?” Fiona pressed.

  Because, of course, they knew Caleb’s work schedule at the fire station. That was just neighborly. They watered plants and kept an eye out for mail and packages when he was on shift.

  “I’m not, but I thought y’all were having girls’ night.” Those dark, chocolate eyes flicked to Emerson, and she could swear the temperature cranked up five degrees. “I wouldn’t want to crash.”

  It’s just a hot flash. You’re getting older.

  “You never crash,” Fi assured him. “Besides, Emerson’s just going to make me pack.”

  Exasperated she crossed her arms. “I’m still going to make you pack. Paisley will be here to load up in the morning.”

  “It’s only an hour away.”

  After all these years, did the child not understand how much Emerson needed to plan things? “In the morning, child!”

  Fiona rolled out her lip in a pout. “You’re just going to hang over me. You know I hate that.”

  Emerson did know, and she’d bent over backwards to walk the line between giving Fiona freedom and the structure she needed. But she’d had weeks to take care of this on her own. It hadn’t happened. Emerson did not want to get to the point of loading their cars tomorrow and not be ready to go. It was August, for heaven’s sake. The later in the day, the worse the oppressive heat and humidity would be.

  Caleb’s knowing gaze bounced between the two of them. “Okay, okay.” He swung a brotherly arm around Fiona’s shoulders. “I’ll tell you what. Emerson needs a run. I’ll get her out of your hair so you can pack in peace. And if you’re actually done when we get back, I’ll stick around and even spring for pizza.”

  “Excuse me?”

  Both of them ignored her. When had they wrested all control of the situation from her hands?

  Fi pursed her lips in calculation. “Emiliano’s?”

  Caleb’s face twisted with mock offense that she dared to suggest he’d think of anywhere else. “Obviously.”

  The little minx stuck out a hand. “Deal.”

  They shook on it, and Fi headed back upstairs, presumably to get started.

  Emerson stared at him. “Did you seriously just manage to bribe my child with pizza to do the thing I’ve been trying to get her to do for weeks?”

  He flashed the grin again, dimples carving into his cheeks. “And my charming company, the value of which can’t be overestimated.”

  Her lips twitched. He spoke nothing less than the truth. “Naturally.”

  It wasn’t what she’d planned, but maybe this was better. With Caleb around for the night, there’d be no chance for the mood to devolve into somberness and tears. As Fiona had said. She was only going to be an hour away. This wasn’t the end of everything.

  She shoved away from the counter. “I’ll go get changed.”

  “Meet you out front in ten.”

  “It’s a girl!”

  Phone pressed to his ear, Caleb stopped dead in his kitchen at his brother Porter’s exclamation. “Wait, the baby’s here? Isn’t that early?”

  “Two weeks. But she’s fine. Maggie’s fine. Everybody’s healthy. Six pounds, five ounces. Born just a couple hours ago. We’re naming her Faith Reynolds. She’s got this soft downy hair and looks just like her mama.”

  “I’m an uncle.” Caleb tunneled a hand through his hair and whooped. “I’m an uncle! Man, congratulations! You gotta send pictures.”

  “I will. I gotta get back, but I wanted to let you know.”

  “Yeah, of course. My love to Maggie.” He signed off, practically dancing his way through changing his clothes.

  The phone call from Porter delayed him enough that Emerson was already limbering up at the end of the driveway between their houses by the time he came out. He couldn’t quite decide whether to curse his brother or buy him a beer as he took in those toned, tanned limbs exposed by the fitted tank and running shorts as she bent over to touch her toes.

  Stop checking her out, you asshole. She’s stressed.

  Caleb could see it in the set of Emerson’s shoulders and the restless flex of her muscles as she straightened up. Fiona moving out was a Big Deal. They all knew it, but Emerson hadn’t talked about it. Not with him anyway. He hadn’t pressed, but he knew it was weighing on her. This was the best method he’d found for draining off some of her anxiety.

  “Porter’s wife had the baby.”

  “Yeah? What’d they have?”

  “Girl. Faith Reynolds Ingram. Six pounds five ounces. Porter sounds over the moon.”

  “As he should. I know these last several months with Maggie on bed rest had him freaked out.”

  “Everybody’s healthy and safe.”

  “Have you figured out how to make yourself favorite uncle yet?”

  Caleb rolled his own shoulders. “I’m sure it’ll come to me. Ready?”

  In answer, she pushed into a jog. He fell in, easily matching her pace as they headed up the road for their usual trail that led through the woods on the back side of the park. The four-mile loop was thick with trees and circled around the lake. Beneath the shade of the canopy, temperatures dipped into a more comfortable range. Well accustomed to Emerson’s habits, he kept his mouth shut for the first mile. She had to find her stride and pound out some of that frustration before she unfolded enough to talk.

  By the time they hit the lake, her breath had leveled and the tension had begun to melt out of her posture.

  “Feel better?”

  She shot him a glance that was somewhere between amused and annoyed. “Always do when you drag me out here.”

  It was why he’d prodded her into it years ago, but he’d never imagined they’d become regular running buddies back then. He’d never imagined a lot of things when he popped over to her house after that night at the hospital. In the beginning, he’d only wanted to do what he could to help that brutal transition for her and Fiona. After his own parents had been killed in similar fashion, there’d been no Emerson for him. He’d gone
into foster care for his last few years before eighteen, winning the foster mom lottery in Joan Reynolds. She’d been the reason he’d gotten through the devastation, and a part of him had just wanted to pay it forward. But then he’d kept showing up, kept being pulled in by them both, and the admiration he’d felt for Emerson had deepened to more.

  “There’s something patently unfair about it,” she continued, pulling his attention back to the present.

  “Unfair about what?”

  “The fact that it’s hard, sweaty exercise that releases all the stress instead of a big ass bowl of ice cream.”

  Caleb could think of plenty of hot, sweaty things he’d like to do with her. Not that she seemed to have a clue about the less than gentlemanly thoughts he regularly entertained about her. He’d gone out of his way to hide them, hadn’t he? He was pretty sure she’d relegated him to some kind of little brother status. Or she wanted to. He’d caught her ogling him when she thought he wasn’t looking. He’d even done a fair amount of yardwork and outdoor home improvement projects shirtless, just to test the theory. Yeah. Emerson noticed him in a totally not-brother way.

  He’d take it. That knowledge had kept him going these past four years, as he bided his time, being the friend he knew she needed, even as he yearned for more. She’d be shocked at how much more. With Fiona moving out, into the next phase of her life, Emerson would finally have the bandwidth to think about something other than the child she’d upended her life to raise. Which meant it was time to do something about shifting himself out of the Friend Zone.

  He dragged his brain back to their conversation as he dropped back to let some other runners pass in the opposite direction. “Pretty sure it has something to do with endorphins and completing the stress response.”

  “I suppose I should be grateful. All this running means my ass didn’t grow three sizes with all the ice cream and chocolate I’ve been stress eating since I became a parent.”

  Well that just made him look at her ass. All toned and shapely, it bounced just a little with her stride. His hands itched to cup it, kneading the muscles as he devoured her mouth.