that anyway.
He kissed her instead. Clumsy. Desperate. Needy. He was all those things when it came to her. How was
he ever supposed to pull it together when she shattered him with a simple word?
He held her close so that their breaths stuttered erratically over each other’s lips. His fingers trembled as
he stroked her cheek, the tips tangling with the single strand of hair that refused to stay behind her ear.
“Let’s go eat,” he said, his voice cracking.
She smiled, kissed him again as if she knew just how hard it was for him to process the barrage of
emotions, and then she pulled away, taking his hand as they entered the house.
“Everything all right?” Greer asked when they walked into the kitchen.
Taggert eyed his brother and gave him a short nod.
“What did Frank have to say?”
Emily shrugged. “You know what he wanted.”
“Did he come out and ask you to come back?”
Greer’s voice was mild, but Taggert detected a hint of…what, insecurity? Worry? He cocked an eyebrow
in his brother’s direction, but Greer ignored him as he continued to stare intently at Emily.
Emily’s shoulders sagged. “No, but he didn’t have to. I knew what he wanted. He lectured me about
hiding away from my destiny and then he pulled out the Sean card.”
Taggert tuned in. “Sean card? What the hell is that?”
“Yeah, the Sean-wouldn’t-want-you-to-live-this-way speech.”
“He’s right about that,” Greer said quietly. “The question is how long are you going to ignore what’s so
clear to the rest of us?”
She shook her head and threw a bewildered look at Taggert as if expecting help from his quarter. Hell,
Greer was dead-on, but she’d already been hit over the head during Frank’s visit. There was no reason to
rehash it all.
“What do you want from me?” she asked helplessly.
Greer crossed the room, cupped her cheek and stared down at her with a fierceness that even had Taggert
taking a mental step back.
“I want you to live, Emmy. I want you to be with me. Sean is gone. Do you understand that? He’s not
coming back, and he’d be the last person to want you to keep grieving for him.”
Emily flinched as though Greer had struck her. Raw pain and rage flared in her eyes, and she wrenched
away from his grasp.
“I get it, Greer. Believe me I do. I was there remember? I watched him die. I had his blood all over me.
I’m not likely to forget that he’s gone. I don’t ever need you to remind me of that.”
She was furious. Her entire body trembled. Her hands shook, and she curled her fingers, raising her fists
in what looked like a fighting stance.
And then just as quickly she folded inward. Her face crumpled and her knees buckled. She slid bonelessly
to the floor, her sobs searing over Taggert’s shocked senses.
Taggert dropped to his knees beside her, but Greer was already there, folding his arms around her huddled
body.
“Shhh, sweet pea. It’s okay. It’s going to be okay. I swear.”
Emily raised her tear-streaked face to stare up at Greer. “I know he’s gone, Greer. I sang for him today.
Only for him, though. I didn’t know it would feel so good.”
Taggert closed his eyes and cursed the timing of Frank’s visit. Maybe she’d come around on her own, but
she was raw and hurting, and then Frank had arrived determined to make her see the light.
Greer rocked her in his arms, holding her tight as he moved back and forth. “He loved your singing,
Emmy. He was so proud of you. You were the reason he learned to play the guitar. It was his way of
sharing your gift with you. Don’t take that away from him. Don’t take it away from us.”
“It killed him,” she whispered.
“No, baby. No.”
No longer able to keep silent or remain back, Taggert pressed forward, putting his hand on her shoulder.
Her eyes, deeply wounded, sought him out, looking, asking.
“Emmy, you can’t think that. Your attacker was a sick bastard. Do you understand that? It wasn’t you. It
was him.”
She looked away, and Taggert blew out his breath in frustration. Then she looked back, a pleading
expression in her beautiful eyes.
“I know that. I do, Tagg. But every time I close my eyes I see him, I hear his voice, and I know that if I’d
never sung Sean would still be alive, and that’s hard for me to come to terms with even if it’s stupid, and I
know it’s not logical but guilt isn’t logical. God I wish it was. I wish I could just turn it off. I felt Sean
today. I felt him, and I knew he wanted me to sing, and so I did. I even thought I could go on, but then