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Ava. “What kind of emergency? Did she say?”
Dru nodded. “She mentioned a name before I left them alone … Kaleb.”
“Michael insisted you stay here.” Thomas cleared his throat and took my cell phone from the table where I’d left it when I went to the loft. He dropped it into his shirt pocket. “That you not try to contact him and that you keep a low profile. He was adamant it was for your own safety and told us that if you tried to follow him, we should stop you.”
“Of course he did,” I muttered. I dropped into my chair, overcome with jealousy. And worry. Whatever happened must have been big for Ava to come to Ivy Springs to get Michael.
I folded my arms on the table and laid my head down on top of them, fighting tears and exhaustion. I’d just made a huge decision, agreeing to help Michael save Liam, and I itched to act on it. I’d felt so connected to him when we sat down to talk to Thomas and Dru. Now he was back to keeping things from me.
I sensed Dru gesturing furiously to Thomas. When I looked up, she and I sat at the table alone. “Michael said he’d call you as soon as the problem was resolved. I’m sure things will be fine.”
I nodded.
“If it makes you feel better, he didn’t seem happy to see her.”
It didn’t.
I felt hurt that he left without saying good-bye, and angry that my brother and Dru seemed to be so accepting of Michael’s “orders” for me. I also felt too defeated to argue. For now.
Dru sighed and reached out to pat my hand. “When was the last time you ate anything?”
The pineapple at the Renegade House. “Breakfast.”
“Let me take care of you, okay?” Dru asked in a gentle voice. “I know you hate it, but I need to practice for when the little one gets here.”
“Not fair.” Mentioning the baby was the worst kind of blackmail.
I let Dru take me home, feed me the marinara sauce and bread I’d smelled coming from the restaurant kitchen, and even make a bed for me on the couch, knowing she did it only to keep an eye on me.
o;I won’t,” I said. “My relationship with Michael is professional. We’ve never even come close—”
I stopped when Thomas pursed his lips.
“Well, except for that one time on the patio, we’ve never even come close to doing anything inappropriate.” I looked down at the sugar substitute, then absently brushed it to the floor, immediately feeling guilty for making a mess. “Even though he’s amazing, and thoughtful …”
My brother’s lips pursed so tightly they almost disappeared.
“Anyway, nothing is going on.” I dusted my hands and placed them on the table, staring Thomas dead in the eye. “So it doesn’t matter.”
“But see,” Thomas said, reaching out to take my hands in his, “I think it could matter. Be honest, Emerson. Does the way you feel about him have anything to do with why you’re helping him?”
“No. It doesn’t,” I protested when he gave me a knowing, superior, older-brother look. I tightened my hands around his for emphasis. “Liam Ballard has a family, a wife and a son. I could save him. After everything, you have to understand …”
“I know why it appeals to you. I worry about you, not physically, although that’s part of it.” His face contorted in pain, reflecting mine. “How can you go back and save the life of someone else’s parent without thinking about going back to save the lives of your own?”
“Michael and I already had that conversation.” I focused on the chandelier centered in the ceiling, not wanting him to see the hopelessness I felt. And to keep the tears from falling. “There’s no way. This is some crazy once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. I know it’s impossible to change the past. Except for this time.”
We sat quietly for a moment, both deep in our own thoughts, remembering our loss. Thomas cleared his throat. “You know what Dad always used to say whenever we faced a big decision.”
I resisted an eye roll as we said the words together. “Do the next right thing.”
“Exactly. Whatever the next right thing is for you, Em, I’m behind you.”
“The right thing is helping Michael. After that”—if there is an after that—“we’ll just have to see.”
Thomas let go of my hands and looked in the direction of the front door. “Wonder what’s keeping them?”
“I’ll go check,” I said, grateful for the opportunity to exit the conversation before I said something I shouldn’t. I nodded my head toward the kitchen. “Why don’t you make yourself useful and score me some of that bread and marinara? Don’t you own the place or something?”
