Page 9 of Her Loving Hero

“What is the world coming to?” Wyatt asked as he finished tying his boots and walked over to her. “Has nobody read ‘Stranger in a Strange Land’?”

When I was twelve, I used that word in my middle school class English class,” Emily said. “The teacher crossed it out and gave me a ‘B’. I was able to show her the definition on dictionary.com that GROK meant to understand thoroughly and intuitively. She said that on-line dictionaries didn’t count, and made-up words from novels didn’t count as words.”

“Even if they’ve become part of the lexicon? Was that one of the American schools over in Oman?” Wyatt asked.

“Nope. Virginia. Dad always worked in government before he got the ambassadorship in Oman.”

“Oh yeah, you went to Oman when you were thirteen,” Wyatt nodded. “But why did I think you lived in California before moving overseas?”

“Because I told you about my grandparents living on Lake Elsinore.”

“Right,” he snapped his fingers. “That’s it.”

He saw Emily frown as she put the book back on one of his three bookcases.

“What’s the matter?” he asked.

“It’s what I said earlier, you even know that I went to Oman when I was thirteen and that I spent time in California. What are my sister’s names, and what are their ages?”

“Kristi is fifteen and Carly is eighteen,” he answered immediately.

She lifted an eyebrow. “How is it that we’ve known each other for six months, and all that time you’ve known I worked in a bookstore, but you never mentioned what an avid reader you are?”

She had him. He didn’t know what to say.

“Wyatt?”

“If I say it didn’t come up, you’re going to slap me upside the head, right?”

Her expression was tight. “No. No, I’m not,” she shook her head sadly. “But I think I’ve had enough. You’ve been a good guy when I’ve needed you. I really appreciate your patience with me. I think it’s time I’ve found some new friends. Can you take me home?”

She moved toward his door.

“Emily, no. Don’t go.”

He saw the faint tremble of her shoulders and he felt like utter shit.

“Does it help that nobody knows I like to read? Not even Dalton, and he sucks up books like a freaking vacuum.”

She still didn’t turn around, but at least she wasn’t bending down to pick up her purse beside the door.

“Em, I don’t like talking about myself. Okay? My past is ugly.”

Her fists clenched and she muttered something.

“What did you say?”

She shook her head and started reaching for her purse.

“Emily, talk to me.”

She turned on him like a virago, her blue eyes blazing. “Like my past is a fucking sweet dream?” she demanded incredulously. “But you know every damn thing about that. Every single fucking detail, don’t you Wyatt? You might not have been there, but you listened in on my screams. Yet somehow you can’t share one tiny little bit of yourself. Well count me out. And don’t bother taking me home. I’m calling an Uber. I’m going to request a little car that I don’t need someone to lift me into.”

Every word stabbed at him, and he stood rooted to the floor as she slammed out the door. How could he have messed things up so badly?