Page 19 of Holding Ground

“But she said I could come by anytime. Please, please…”

I huff out a sigh. “Fine, but make it quick.”

She’s gone in a flash.

I watch her run across the lawn to be sure she doesn’t go near the lake. “How’d you hear about Emelia?” I ask my brother.

“Where do you think? The Thermos Crew.”

Of course. Why would I think anything different?

“I’m assuming the two of you are getting along swimmingly.” His wry laugh tells me he’s being sarcastic.

“Why would you assume that?” I walk back over to the fridge to grab a slice of cheese.

“Why wouldn’t I? She’s here to shake things up, and if there’s one thing you hate more than anything, it’s things being shaken up.”

“That’s not true.” I frown at where I’m spreading butter on a slice of bread.

“Oh, please. You’re basically a boomer in a fit thirty-four-year-old body. You like things to stay the same. Be predictable.”

I roll my eyes even though he can’t see me because he’s still looking out the window. I take a peek out the window over the sink to make sure all is well and see her and Baylor standing on the front porch, gazing at the picture in Emelia’s hands.

Emelia’s hair is loose and hangs in waves down past her shoulders. She’s wearing a blue and white sundress that cuts off mid-thigh. There’s such a difference in how she’s presenting herself today versus the night she rolled into town—less severe, more approachable, and down-to-earth.

Then it hits me. This is all a part of her ploy to get the residents of Echo Lake to trust her.

“She’s hot.”

A grunt is my only response.

“Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed,” Ansel presses.

“I have eyes.” I glance over to see a shit-eating grin spreading across his face. “Like I said, don’t start.”

“Fine, fine. What else is new then?” He turns away from the window and comes over, leaning his hip against the counter and crossing his arms.

“Saw Collins when I picked up Baylor today. Chatted with her for a second.”

Ansel grunts. Gone is his affable demeanor.

“Seems like she’s putting up a brave front, but how is she really doing?” I pause what I’m doing and look at him.

Ansel lost one of his best friends and fellow firefighters—Collins’s husband—a year and a half ago on the job.

“Hard to tell. Every time I try to help with something, she pushes me away.”

“Give her time. Everyone deals with loss differently.” Our eyes meet because this is something we both know well from experience. I squeeze his shoulder. “Just keep at it. That’s all you can do.”

He nods, and seconds later, Baylor is sliding open the screen door and rushing back into the kitchen.

“Daddy, Daddy! Emelia said she can do my hair tomorrow before school.”

So much for my daughter keeping her distance.

CHAPTER

SEVEN