"You two are together all the time," Tommy busts out. "Invite someone else to the party once in a while. It'll break up the boredom."

Emma smiles wide as Tommy takes a seat next to me and snaps at the waitress while shouting for a beer.

"s.h.i.+t," I utter, turning my narrowed eyes to Em. Her shrug in response is all I'm granted.

"So, Em," Tommy addresses. "You divorced yet?"

"It's been a f.u.c.kin' day, Tommy," I put in before she has a chance to respond.

Em clears her throat, adjusts in her seat and winks at Tommy without a care. "It's at least moving now. Mr. McNeal says it'll be smooth considering we didn't have much to divide up."

"Hadn't been married long," Tommy points out while grabbing the beer the waitress just put in front of him.

"No, and Greg's not been in contact with me. He's accepting this."

"He'd be a f.u.c.kin' fool not to. Aimes beat..."

Interrupting Tommy's thought and avoiding Emma having to relive what Aimes did and why he did it, I throw in, "It's good he's been quiet. Leave it at that."

Sensing I'm on edge, Em leans towards me and kisses my cheek. It helps.

"Denver's on a date tonight," Tommy informs with a sullen tone. He picks at the label on his bottle as he says it.

"She's sixteen, brother. That happens."

"How old is the boy?" Em asks with a motherly concern.

"Same age as her. They go to school together. Still, though. f.u.c.k, I hated meetin' him. I was nice, but he was a dweeb."

Emma's chastising grin gives me a heads-up before she smarts back, "Dweebs are safe," she starts in. Grabbing my shoulder and shaking it roughly, she continues, "It's the bad boys you gotta watch. Only certain women can handle them."

Tommy laughs. "Right. Well, all this kid was missin' was a pocket protector and tape around his gla.s.ses."

They both laugh and I find myself relaxing while listening to it.

As the night progresses, Em indulges in her Long Island as if she had been living out in the Vegas desert for far too long. I've barely touched my first beer.

Although not voicing this to her, I still can't help but think about how or what Casey's doing this evening. I haven't seen her and if I'm forced, I'll find another way inside without waiting for Aimes.

"This is for you," the young blonde waitress says to Em once she sets a drink down on the table in front of her.

Em looks surprised. Her eyes dart to the drink, to me, then back to the impatient waitress I a.s.sume is still lingering for a tip. Emma fl.u.s.ters as she digs in her purse, pulls out a five dollar bill, and hands it to her.

"Who's this from?" she asks the nearly-departed waitress.

"The dark-haired gentlemen at the bar told me to tell you h.e.l.lo."

You've got to be f.u.c.king kidding me.

"Oh, f.u.c.kin' h.e.l.l," Tommy mumbles out loud as we both turn around to find who sent it.

As I start to stand to get a better look, Em grabs my arm. "Sit down, Max."

Pointing to the bar, I don't bother masking my fury. "f.u.c.k that. I'm sitting right here. He can see you already have company."

"It was a mistake," she snaps. "He was being nice," she tries to reason, pulling me back down toward her.

"Bulls.h.i.+t," Tommy returns quickly with back-up. "He was. .h.i.tting on you with both of us sitting right here."

Letting go of my arm, Em sits back in her chair and crosses her arms over her chest. She's annoyed, which is fine because so am I.

"What are you two going to do?" she asks with a c.o.c.ked eyebrow. "Defend my honor against the nice man who only wanted to buy me a drink."

"Yes," I reply.

"Not worth your time," Tommy wades in, ever the peacemaker. "Fun's over, though. I gotta get back home anyway," he adds.

"Home?" Em whines.

"Yep." He stands. "Gonna go stare at the clock on the wall. That twit has until eleven with Den before I go in search of them both."

I can't help but smile at my friend and the protective stance he has over his nearly adult daughter. "All right," I reply, moving my arm to take his hand.

He grabs it tightly, slapping me on the shoulder at the same time. "Take Em out on a ride tonight. She looks like she could use one. See you guys later."

Turning my gaze to Emma, I see the excitement on her face after hearing his suggestion.

"Be nice to her date, Tommy. Never know when she'll find 'the one'."

His head rears back and his face scrunches. "There's no 'one' for my Denver, d.a.m.n it. She's never getting married."

"Right," I clip back.

"Right," Em answers after me. "Goodnight, Tommy."

Once he walks away, Em pushes her drink forward and with a shy smile says, "So, about that ride..."

Chapter Seven.

I've learned no matter how safe I feel with him near me, the affection I long to have from him is never returned.

Casey sits at her desk alone in her room, wondering what will happen next.

Cilas had been waiting for her and Anna outside the bathroom after Anna had finished helping her get ready. They carried on a non-verbal conversation which Casey couldn't follow, so she remained still and watched as Anna fought against what Cilas was silently asking. Casey knew Anna couldn't escape Ci's intent, so they followed him back to her room where Cilas pointed for her to retreat. Casey willingly did as instructed, but caught the concerned expression Anna gave her before Cilas closed the door.

She didn't hear the lock pop into place before Anna's voice carried on down the hall, sounding exasperated as her voice increased to Cilas. For the first time she could remember, Casey feels uneasy about not being locked in her room. An unlocked door means those she tries so hard to hide from are able to open it without interference.

Casey looks down and admires herself to avoid those frightful thoughts. Her clothes are still neatly pressed and she's afraid to wrinkle them, so she remains unmoving while studying her hands.

Her head aches slightly from the tight pull of the bun, but it's an appreciative feeling. She feels clean, and it's the closest to pretty she's ever imagined herself to be.

Her body jerks with fear as the door swings open and Cilas stands on the other side of it. His eye twitches and his cheek jumps as he grinds his teeth together.

Casey inhales with fear as he motions with his finger for her to get up and walk toward him. Fearing the worst, as time and experience have trained her to do, she obeys and walks to him, but with heavy caution. Once close enough, Cilas looks down at her and studies her appearance for a moment. She's rarely said a word, asked him a question, or tempted him to speak before. She's never been certain if he could speak or just chooses not to.

But right now, her nervousness can't be denied.

"Where are we going?" she asks quietly, looking directly into his darkened eyes.

He doesn't answer, but his hand reaches her small shoulder and rests it there before squeezing with a force that causes her to wince. It's not often Cilas initiates physical contact of any kind.

Okay, Cilas, I'll stop talking, she tells herself.

Before closing the door behind them, Cilas places her to stand just outside of it. She can see the light s.h.i.+ning from the kitchen at the end of the hall. There aren't any voices coming from either direction, and she stays close to Cilas as he leads her down the open corridor.

When he moves to make his way left rather than right, the usual route to the kitchen, Casey's body stops moving. She digs in her heels as fear consumes her.

Cilas stops walking, as well. Positioning himself in front of her and using his hand to gently raise her face to his, he looks down on her with the gentleness she had missed before. His large, calloused finger swipes just beneath her left eye, catching a tear she hadn't realized was falling.

"I'm scared," she utters as his eyes penetrate hers. "Where are you taking me?"

Fear, coupled with the security of his presence, calls to her and in answer to it, she lurches forward and leans in to his hardened body. Wrapping her young arms around his large, bare shoulders, which sit underneath his leather vest, she seeks the only comfort she can. She hides her face in his long, black hair. The feel of it is soft, a complete contradiction to his outwardly displayed character.

Immediately, he grabs her shoulders and pulls her away from his body. His comfort only goes as far as his presence near her; the physical connection remains off-limits.

Without showing any further signs of understanding her worry, Cilas reaches down, grabs her hand, and takes the turn left into another long, dark hallway.

Chapter Eight.

"I forgot how beautiful the city is from up here," Emma states as she takes off her helmet and dismounts the bike.

After Tommy left, Emma was relentless in her quest to get me to take her home long enough to pick up my bike before bringing her back here.

"This is the first place you kissed me," she observes as I finish securing the bike in place. "Right over there." She points out the exact spot.

"It wasn't that long ago," I answer. "You say that as if it happened years ago."

Em watches with interest as I walk toward her and close the distance between us. Her hair is blowing in the breeze and the now very familiar scent of her envelops the area around us.

"It feels like it was forever ago, though," she whispers. "So much has happened since then."

I don't say anything, but I wrap my arm around her shoulders and bring her in to my side. "How drunk are you?" I question, trying to lighten the mood.

"You're being mean," she snaps back. "I'm reminiscing. Let me do that."

Kissing her temple, I squeeze her tighter to me. "But I'm right here, sweetheart."

As Em turns herself around in my arms, the moonlight offers a glimpse of her face. She's visibly worried. "I'm getting divorced" she tells me, as if saying it out loud enforces what's happening.

"I know this."

"Last time we were here, you held onto me like you knew I'd be yours."

"I'm a selfish man, Em. I wanted you for myself. But I shouldn't have done what I did that night."

"I'm glad you did," she returns softly. "There's no telling how long I'd have stayed married to him if you hadn't..."

I don't want to talk about what may not have been between us or the opportunities and chances I could've missed had I not come back home when I did. "Don't go there. You're with me now."

She sighs then turns back to the view. It's dark, so there's not much to look at, but I sense she's not seeing much anyway. Her next thought confirms it. "Until that night, I never realized how lonely I was. I wasn't focused on anything but Casey. When you came back, I..." Her voice gets tight, and she doesn't finish.

"You're still focused on Casey," I state the obvious, but it's not an accusation.

"But now I'm not alone," she responds then quiets. A few seconds later, her hands run up my chest. The dim light of the moon gives me only a shadow of her face. "Thank you for being who you are."

"You've said this before. There's no reason to thank me."

"I've said it, but I don't know if you've listened."

Leaning down, I move my hands to frame her face. I'm briefly reminded of the night we were here. I wanted this with her. I wanted everything with her. And I still do. But now, as time and circ.u.mstances have changed, I also know I want Casey with us more than ever.

"I've listened to you," I respond. "But you're not the only one who's thankful, Em."

Her head shakes in my hands. "Don't..."

"I love you," I tell her. Her eyes close with my words. She inhales a breath, but doesn't release it. "Look at me."

Her eyes remain shut and her head shakes again. "I can't because you're going to say something really nice and I'll cry, and you'll tell me I'm drunk and I'm really not and then you'll..."

Her rambling causes me to smile, but of course she can't see it. "Emilyn, look at me."

"What?" she asks in a terse tone, but at least she's looking at me. "What do you want to say?"

Holding in a laugh, I rest my forehead to hers. "You're making me want to touch you."

Her eyes widen and she lets out a huff of annoyance. She pulls back from my hold on her face but tightly clutches the s.h.i.+rt under my jacket as she looks around. "Here? You're coming on to me out here?"