“How would you know?”
“Because I do come out here,” Taggert said. “Usually once a day.”
“This is such a mess. I don’t know how to fix it. I don’t know how to get beyond my own anger and grief to help Emily with hers.”
“I miss him. I miss them both,” Taggert said as he moved closer to Greer.
“They should have been able to feel like they could come home. We took that away from them. I thought by ignoring the issue, it would go away.”
Taggert remained silent, his lips pinched.
“The four of us were family,” Greer said painfully. “Sean accepted… He accepted what you and I didn’t. That Emily loved us. We failed her, and now to find out she blames herself for Sean’s death. It’s more than I can stand, Tagg. I’ve got to find out why, even if it makes her face everything that hurts her the most. She can’t go on like this, carrying so much guilt that she buckles under the weight. None of us can. We’ve got to face this…what’s between us and what was. Nothing can ever be right again until Sean is laid to rest.”
“I know,” Taggert said quietly. He turned to look at Greer and then back again at the grave. “What do we do?”
Greer blew out his breath and tugged one of his hands free of his pocket. “I know you think I’m a cold son of a bitch.”
Taggert made a sound of surprise.
“I mean with Emily. I let you comfort her. I made her some soup then split.”
Taggert raised an eyebrow in acknowledgement but didn’t say anything as he stared back at his brother.
“You know what I regret?” Greer looked down at one scuffed boot for a moment before he refocused on the hillside, looking beyond the neat graves to the mountains in the distance. “That day that Emily came to see us. I could tell she was upset about something. But all I wanted to do was take her in my arms, haul her up to my bedroom and make love to her. I felt like a first-class jerk. She was young. I’d sworn to never act on my feelings beyond friendship. I had this idea that I was being noble and self-sacrificing.” He snorted. “What a crock of bullshit. I gave her that pompous speech about how she was mistaking friendship for something else and then I proceeded to really patronize her by saying I’d always love her but she was too mixed-up about her feelings to possibly know her mind.”
He shook his head bitterly.
“Even now, all I can think of is taking her to bed and showing her just how much I love her. She’s hurt, she’s grieving, and I can’t get close to her without wanting to make love to her. How big of a bastard does that make me?”
“Christ, if you’re asking my blessing,” Taggert said in disgust.
Greer clenched his fingers into fists and turned on Taggert. “Fuck you. I’m not asking you for any goddamn favors.”
“Look, I’m sorry,” Taggert said wearily. “This is one big goddamn mess. I don’t have the answers. I never did or we wouldn’t be standing here over Sean’s grave arguing and feeling like the two biggest dumbasses this side of the Mississippi.”
“Agreed,” Greer clipped out. “Fuck me but I don’t know what to do.”
Taggert toed a line in the soil with the tip of his boot then kicked up a clump of the grass. “Seems to me like you ought to at least talk to Emily. Let her know your feelings and all that bullshit. Jesus, this is a hell of a conversation to be having with my younger brother. You know what I mean, though. Talk to her, for fuck’s sake. We’ve got a second chance here. Let’s not blow it.”
“She loved Sean,” Greer said quietly. He turned to stare at Taggert, needing his confidence. “What if what she felt for us was girlish infatuation, what we feared she felt at the time? Or what if her love died when we pushed her away? She and Sean were happy. I don’t believe for a minute he was some substitute for what she couldn’t have.”
“She loved…loves us all,” Taggert said. “It seems simple enough now, though back then it sounded so farfetched.”
“Or maybe we just want to believe it now.”
“Look, believe what you want to believe,” Taggert said impatiently. “I’m not going to try and convince you. I get that you’re worried. I get that you’re having second thoughts now that she’s here and we’re not talking about abstracts and possibilities. But if you love her—if you want her—how the fuck can you stand by and do nothing?”
“You make it sound so simple.”
“It is simple. Pull your head out of your ass, for God’s sake.”
Greer chuckled, suddenly feeling a little lighter. “You do have a way with words, Tagg.”
“Well Christ, you’re getting positively moody on me.”
“Okay, okay, I get it. I’m a dumbass.”
For a moment, his gaze flickered back to Sean’s grave, and a spasm of pain squeezed his heart.
“I miss him, man,” he said softly.
Taggert followed his gaze to the headstone, his expression sad. “I miss him too. He was too young to die.”
Chapter Seven
Emily woke in darkness, her senses more alert than they’d been in a long time. For a moment she just lay there, staring up at the ceiling, tears crowding her eyes. How easily they came now when before they’d been locked behind an impenetrable barrier.
Strangely, she didn’t hurt quite as much as she had. In some ways she supposed it had been like cutting a festering sore to allow the infection to drain away. Poison. It had built in her system until she’d been staggered by her grief and pain.
She turned her head, seeking confirmation of the time, and gasped when she saw a dark outline by the window. He turned when he heard her, and it was then she saw it was Greer, pale moonlight spilling over his solemn features.
“I’m sorry I scared you,” he said quietly.
She couldn’t very well say he hadn’t since her heart still pounded like a jackhammer.
“What are you doing here?”
She rubbed her throat when the words came out in a barely audible croak. She’d really done a number on her voice. Frank would have had a heart attack if he could hear her.
Her hand froze as she thought about Frank—and the fact she hadn’t talked to him in nearly a year. She’d been too busy running.
Greer flipped the lamp on, illuminating the bed in its soft glow. He sat on the edge and turned, sliding one knee onto the mattress as he stared down at her.
She swallowed nervously and wrung her fingers until they were numb. He looked so serious. So grave. This was the first time she’d really faced him since that day four years ago when she’d blurted out her feelings. No wonder he and Taggert had reacted the way they did. It hadn’t been well done of her at all. Nearly hysterical after the confrontation with her father, she’d felt as though her options had run out.
How many times had she wished she could have that day back?
Greer picked up her ravaged fingers and brought them to his lips. He kissed each one, his eyes glowing vibrantly in the light.
She watched in fascination at the tenderness he displayed, at the regard that went beyond simple affection for a girl he once knew. For a sister-in-law.
She couldn’t wrap her brain around it. First Taggert with his declaration of love—had she imagined it? Was she finally losing what was left of her mind?
Why now?
The same question echoed over and over. What had changed?
“Do you want me to stay with you, Emmy?”
His warm, husky voice vibrated over her skin, leaving her awash in want. Need. So much need.
“Because if I stay, I’m going to make love to you.”
She swallowed and then her lips parted in surprise. Torment blazed in his eyes. Guilt. Why guilt? Did he feel like he was betraying Sean? Should she feel like it was betrayal?
Closing her eyes against the sudden rush of tears, she bit her bottom lip to stem the tide of emotion that bubbled in her throat. She had no business making promises with her body that her shattered mind couldn’t keep.
But oh how she longed to s
ay yes. To give in to the craving for his touch.
“I suppose you think it makes me a bastard that you’re here crying—grieving—over Sean and all I can think of is making love to you,” he said harshly.
She hung her head but shook it slowly. Gathering her courage—courage she hadn’t possessed since the day she’d left her father’s rage to confess her feelings to the Donovan brothers—she looked back up, trying to infuse strength into her spine.
“We need to talk,” she said softly. “About a lot of things. Taggert needs to be here.”
“Okay,” he agreed.
Was it relief she saw in his eyes? She supposed she sounded positively sane compared to the way she’d functioned for so long. She’d surprised even herself with her calm and firmness.
She glanced at the clock and saw that it was three in the morning. Had Greer been standing there at the window all night? He looked tired, but more than that, he looked older than she remembered. The kind of old you got by experience, not by true age. He looked as weary as she felt.
“I’m hungry,” she announced.
He cocked one eyebrow in surprise.
She offered a tremulous smile. It was true, much to her shock. In fact, she was starving.
“Buck’ll be pissed that we invaded his kitchen,” he said with a grin.
“I want some peanut butter toast,” she said wistfully. “And a tall glass of cold milk.”
“Come on.” He stood and held a hand down to her.
She let him pull her up and then noticed she was wearing just his shirt. With Buck due in the kitchen in an hour, not to mention the ranch hands that would be in for breakfast and to collect their sack lunches, she could hardly run around like this.
She extricated her fingers from Greer’s hand and dug into her bag for a pair of sweatpants. As she pulled them on, Greer watched her, frowning.
“We need to take you into town so you can buy some clothes and other stuff you need.”
She shrugged and nodded. Everything she had was still in the apartment. Taggert and Greer had said they’d take care of having her stuff stored, and to be honest, she had no emotional connection to it. She’d moved there with the basics, only what she could carry herself, and the rest she’d had delivered to the apartment. It could all rot for all she cared.
“We’ll go after breakfast.”
Again she nodded and then followed him out of the bedroom. Her step was lighter, and for once she didn’t feel overwhelming fatigue at the idea of facing the day.
Greer turned on the light in the kitchen, and she went to the pantry to dig out the huge bulk-sized can of peanut butter. Snagging a loaf of bread, she retreated and set the items on the counter while she fished in the drawer for a knife and a spoon.
Greer set the sugar bowl in front of her, and she grinned her thanks.
“Want some?” she asked.
He gave her a horrified look. “I’ll just eat plain butter toast.”
“You don’t know what you’re missing.”
She slathered a generous amount of peanut butter on both pieces of bread and then sprinkled several spoonfuls of sugar over the surface. Behind her, Greer turned the oven on broil, and when she was done, he opened it for her to slide the toast onto the rack.
While she watched her toast, he popped his bread into the toaster then leaned against the counter watching her.
When the peanut butter began to bubble and the sugar caramelized just slightly, she reached in with her fork and pulled the toast to the edge of the rack before sliding it onto a waiting plate.
Greer got a glass down, handed it to her and took her plate to set it down on the bar. After pouring milk, she slid onto a barstool across from where Greer stood buttering his toast.
“I never could understand how anyone could eat that,” he said as he eyed her concoction.
She took a careful bite so as not to burn her lips and sighed in contentment.
“It was always Sean and mom’s favorite.”
She swallowed and nodded, willing the food not to get stuck in her throat.
“He made it for me,” she said softly.
Greer turned his attention back to his toast and then tossed the knife into the sink.
Uncomfortable silence stretched between them. Emily ate mechanically, trying to savor the comfortable taste, but the more she chewed, the more difficulty she had forcing the gooey peanut butter down.
She chased the first piece down with half a glass of milk and shoved the saucer away, giving up on finishing. Whatever spark that had ignited her hunger was doused by the memory of Sean standing in the kitchen licking peanut butter off the knife as he made her toast.
“What are you two doing up?” Taggert asked as he ambled into the kitchen.
Her gaze tracked down his torso at the faded T-shirt and well-worn jeans that clung to his body, outlining his lean hardness. If she remembered right, he was still wearing what he had on the night before, which meant he hadn’t been to bed.
A glance at his tired eyes confirmed her suspicions. He and Greer both looked tired. And worried.
“Emily was hungry,” Greer said. “We came down before Buck took over and barred everyone from the premises.”
Taggert grunted and took a seat next to Emily. He glanced sideways at her saucer. “You gonna eat that?”
She smiled faintly and slid the plate along with her half-full glass of milk at him. She stole a look at Greer as Taggert wolfed down the toast. There was an impatient set to his stance as if he was being held up and didn’t like it.
Before, in the bedroom, when she’d looked into his eyes, she’d found the courage to speak up, to state the need for them to talk, and she’d had every intention of asking the questions that burned in her mind. But now, faced with both of them, her courage waned.
Another peek at Greer told her that he was as ill at ease as she was. The least she could do was meet this head-on and quit hiding. She’d done enough of that in the last year.
She cleared her throat, swallowing some of the soreness away, and then she massaged it with her hand, more in a gesture of nervousness than an attempt at comfort.
“We need to talk.”
She glanced sideways at Taggert as she spoke so he’d know she was including him.
He set the now-empty glass down in front of him and turned those dark eyes on her. There was cautious reserve set deep in the brown pools. Almost like he was building himself up for what was coming.
Now that she had their attention she had no idea what to say. She licked her lips and opened her mouth, but nothing came out.
“I—”
The back door slammed, and she jerked around in her seat to see Buck standing there, his eyebrows up as he looked at her and then the others.
“What in Sam Hill are y’all doing up at this hour? Breakfast won’t be on the table for another hour.”
Taggert looked guiltily down at the empty saucer in front of him then hastily shoved it toward Greer. Emily’s shoulders shook. Taggert looked like an errant child caught with his hand in the cookie jar.
“I can still eat,” Taggert said.
Buck snorted. “Of course you can. You’ve still got one hollow leg to fill. It’s a wonder your parents didn’t go bankrupt trying to feed you boys.”
Emily stole another peek at Greer, who looked even more annoyed. His gaze told her that the interruption was not welcome, that he was seething with impatience, that he was tired of waiting.
Buck’s appearance was a welcome reprieve to her.
“You going to eat?” Buck asked her as he dug into the cabinets for the pans he needed.
She started to shake her head but stopped when she met three disapproving stares. “Uh, okay,” she agreed. More wouldn’t kill her, and who knew, maybe it would go down better than the toast.
Buck puttered around the kitchen, efficiently preparing a breakfast large enough to serve the half dozen hands that lived on