No Denying You(38)

“I’m glad you could make it, Brant. I believe Emmie’s upstairs in her room if you want to go see her.” The doorbell sounded in the foyer, and Boston turned to answer it as Brant made his way slowly up the stairs. He stood outside Emma’s door uncertainly. Maybe he had been wrong to come. He didn’t want to be the cause of more stress in her life, but God, he needed to be here for her. If she asked him to leave, he would, he vowed, regardless of what he wanted.

He knocked on the door and when he heard her voice, he opened it. It took him a moment to locate her in the darkened room. The bed was empty as well as the chair. He finally saw her sitting against the wall of the window seat. She was facing away from him and he stood waiting for her cue. Finally, she asked, “Why are you here, Brant?”

He lowered himself to the seat beside her so he could study her face. Much like her parents, hers was also pale and somber. Her hair was mussed as if she had drawn a hand through it many times, and her eyes were red-rimmed and swollen, giving truth to Boston’s statement of her crying in the bathroom. “I’m sorry, Em . . . I came as soon as I found out.”

In a voice completely devoid of humor, she asked, “Aren’t you afraid I’m going to maul you again?”

“Em,” he breathed, “I’m so sorry. There has been a lot going on that I should have told you about. It’s no excuse, but I’m so damn sorry.” When she looked at him in shock, clearly believing the worst, he hastened to add, “Shit, not what you’re thinking. I don’t want to throw all of this on you now, but I promise you, you’re it for me.”

She looked away again and Brant had no idea whether she believed a word out of his mouth. He knew they needed to talk, but it was hardly the appropriate time. For now all he wanted was to be there for Emma and her family, if she would let him.

There would be time later to find out where they stood. Right now, he would do the only thing he could . . . he would love her.





Chapter Twenty-four


Emma sat between her brother and Brant during her sister’s funeral. The visitation hour had been brutal. Standing next to her sister’s casket while everyone repeated over and over again how wonderful she looked was almost more than Emma could bear. Only Brant’s hand holding hers had kept her grounded in place. Without him, she would have bolted from the room. Her mother had stood beside her, chatting through her drug-induced fog, anchored firmly by Emma’s father while Boston had shifted from foot to foot uncomfortably on Brant’s other side. As soon as it ended, Emma had escaped to the restroom for a few moments to compose herself before walking back out to find Brant waiting for her. He took her hand, not saying a word, and led her toward the chapel.

She had been surprised to see her friends and coworkers from Danvers sitting a few rows behind the family pews. Suzy, Ella, Beth and Claire had all stood to hug her while Jason, Gray, Nick and Declan conveyed their sympathies with a brief embrace. Claire had apologized that they hadn’t arrived early enough to attend the visitation. Emma was further surprised when Mark DeSanto and Ava Stone walked up behind them. They both hugged her as well, and Emma felt her eyes starting to burn with tears at the show of support from her friends. She had never expected to see familiar faces this far from Myrtle Beach, and she was touched that so many had made the trip. She was also glad to see Suzy looking so well after everything she had been through recently. That she would be here now meant so much to her.

As the rest of the family started to take their places, Brant had put his arm around her, steering her toward their pew. “Come on, honey, the service is starting.” Her legs had locked in place for a moment—she didn’t want to do this. She didn’t want to say this final good-bye. Her friends looked on in sympathy, seeming to read her thoughts. Brant had leaned down to whisper in her ear, “It’s okay, just lean on me.” Her brain seemed to obey those words and her feet started slowly moving forward. They slid into the pew beside Boston and Emma allowed Brant to draw her firmly into his side. He had promised her yesterday to give her anything she needed and he was doing it so far. She would have never made it without him today. She wondered idly if he knew that.

Emma had perfected a process for surviving funerals when she was little and it automatically kicked in when the opening prayers began. First she started by counting the light fixtures in the chapel, then the windows, then the pews, then the people. When that was finished, she started all over again. She had made numerous passes around the room when she looked up to see Brant watching her. At some point, he had started following her eyes and she could have sworn that he knew exactly what she was doing. Next to her, Boston, too, stared off into the distance. Farther down the pew, she saw tears trailing silently down her mother’s cheeks as she stared sightlessly ahead, and her father, who had been strong through the entire process, looked more in need of his wife’s support than at any other time since Robyn had passed.

Emma almost made it through the entire service without breaking down. Her mother had insisted on the final songs, and Emma should have anticipated how difficult it would be to hear them. Her mother wanted Robyn remembered for who she was and what she loved. The lights in the chapel dimmed and images started flickering on the screen in the front of the chapel. The song “There You’ll Be” by Faith Hill played first as images flashed by of Robyn holding a surfboard when she was barely old enough to walk.

If you could show a life in pictures, then their mother had certainly managed to do it. Emma had always hated having so many pictures taken by their parents. Now, as she saw her sister’s life played out before her eyes—even though it was incredibly painful to witness—she was happy that their mother had never let an important moment pass without capturing it. When the last song, “If I Die Young” by The Band Perry, started playing, their father finally broke down and hastily left the chapel. The song had been a favorite of Robyn’s, and their mother had wanted it included even though it wasn’t exactly a traditional funeral song. Neither Emma nor her father had thought it was appropriate for a funeral, but her mother was adamant and Boston, of course, sided with her.

Now, to Emma, it felt like her sister was in the room for the first time. Sobs could be heard from all over the chapel as the slide show ended. She hadn’t even realized that she was quietly crying until Brant pressed a tissue in her hand. On her other side, Boston wasn’t doing much better. She gripped his hand tightly as Brant squeezed hers in return. I love you, sis, and I always will, she whispered in her mind.

She remembered Brant telling her that morning, “This is the worst day you’ll ever live through. You may not believe it now, but there will never be another day like today. Each new day will be better than this one.” She clung to those words like a promise as they left the chapel for the burial. For once she hadn’t argued with him because she wanted him to be right with all of her heart.

At last the house was quiet and everyone was gone. Emma sank gratefully into the tub of steaming water that Brant had insisted on running for her before going back downstairs to check on her parents. She suspected that he was really intent on cleaning up any messes left by the barrage of people who had visited earlier.

As the water eased some of her tension from the day, Emma’s mind started to drift. To say that she had been surprised by Brant the last few days was an understatement. Despite how mad and disappointed she was in him when she arrived in Florida, she had to admit that he had been the glue that had held all of them together. She had never doubted his organizational skills; the man had some serious OCD about stuff like that. Those same traits had been her family’s saving grace. She figured he had taken one look at them when he arrived and realized that he needed to take control. Her father, who could usually be counted on to keep an even keel, had looked to Brant for assistance with making the funeral arrangements. Both her mother and Boston had looked to him for everything from their clothing for the service to the gathering of friends and family at the house before and after the service. Emma had just needed his support. He knew when she wanted to be alone, when she needed to cry and when she just needed to talk. He had been their rock and regardless of what happened next, she would always love him for that.

She knew that he needed to return home soon, and she felt a pang at the thought of him leaving. Her friends from Danvers had dropped by the house after the service. Jason and Claire had pulled her aside and told her to take the time that she needed with her family and assured her that her job would be waiting when she was ready. She had been truly touched. She counted Claire as a friend but hadn’t often been in a social setting with Jason. When she had started to thank him, calling him Mr. Danvers, since he was, after all, the president of the company, he had gently stopped her, insisting that she call him Jason. Truthfully, she had been tongue-tied to have their support. She had promised Suzy that they would catch up soon. Her friend looked wonderful after her ordeal, but you could hardly miss the protective arm that her husband, Gray, kept around her.

Emma shivered, realizing that the water had grown cold. She had been so lost in thought she hadn’t noticed that almost an hour had passed. She stepped out of the bath, toweling off before grabbing her robe. In the bedroom, she dressed for comfort in a long T-shirt before sliding into bed. She was still staring at the ceiling when Brant walked in. She hadn’t protested the first night when he had stripped down to his boxers and crawled into bed, pulling her against his chest. She needed him and they both knew it.