Captured Again(The Let Me Go Series)

Chapter 19


Emma tucked her hair behind her ear and fidgeted in her seat, looking everywhere except at Dusty. Now that she was here, on an actual date, she felt prickly in her own skin. Why am I so friggin socially awkward? Dammit! She willed her body to relax and think of some positives: I’m freshly showered. Okay, there’s one. She’d hurried, having to leave Dusty sitting in the reception area while she’d used the studio locker/shower room. She was ready by their agreed upon time of seven, and Dusty had seemed surprised to see her back so soon.

She’d felt confident when she’d walked out to greet him again, clean and wearing strappy sandals and her best Miss Me blue jeans with a sheer top, allowing a peek at the lacy tank top underneath, only to find Dusty looking uneasy, and silly, his frame too big for the colorful, decorative chairs in their lobby. She rescued him just as Rick stepped out of the elevator on his own way out. She’d been lucky to see him coming; she didn’t want these two face to face again.

“Can I start you with some margaritas?” the waitress asked, helping to break the clumsy silence Emma felt trapped in.

“I’ll have a sweet tea,” answered Emma.

“Make that two,” Dusty said.

The waitress smiled and told them she’d return in a few moments to take their order after they’d had a chance to look at the menu.

“Dusty, I hope you don’t feel like you can’t have a beer—or whatever—just because I’m not drinking,” Emma said.

“Nope. I’m driving,” Dusty answered with a smile. “I can have a beer at home if I want one. I never drink at restaurants.” He looked down at his menu.

Emma mentally kicked herself for bringing it up. Now what if that opened up a conversation about her pending charge of driving under the influence or drinking in general? She normally liked to avoid that subject. Bonehead, she thought to herself. She, too, focused her attention on the menu, finding what she wanted right away, and put it down. She looked up at Dusty, and caught him staring at her before quickly looking back down at the menu again; his face looked as blank as her mind felt.


Get it out in the open so you can stop worrying about it, she silently reprimanded herself.

“I don’t normally drink,” Emma blurted out. “The other night, when you arrested me, that’s not who I really am anymore. I actually quit drinking a long time ago. But it’s never a problem if people drink around me.”

“That’s cool,” Dusty answered. He shrugged his shoulders.

Now how stupid do I sound? I quit drinking a long time ago, but he caught me drinking and driving. Idiot.

Awkward silence again.

“Okay, I didn’t explain that right, and it’s probably TMI, but I need you to understand. This is going to sound ridiculous. About once a year or so, I have a few drinks. Usually it’s just two and then I leave. I do this to confront it when I’m feeling weak. See, alcohol used to have a hold on me, and the typical “program” doesn’t work very long. So I figured out what works for me, and I do that. I can’t have a simple drink with dinner, or a few with friends. That would be like me throwing out a welcome mat and inviting that problem back into my life. I’m not like other people. If I let it in, it would take over everything—take over my life—and leave me with nothing. The fear of it hangs over my head constantly. So I confront it head-on and alone. I don’t make it a social thing. It’s just me and the drink. I throw back a few, and tell it to stay out of my life. Then I walk away—just to show it I can. To show I’m still free from it. That keeps me in control. That’s my program.”

Dusty shrugged his shoulders again and his mouth squeezed together in a firm line. Then he raised his eyebrows and asked, “How’d that program work out for you the other night?”

Another blush heated her cheeks, but he sounded genuine, not sarcastic at all.

“It didn’t. This time there was more to it than that. I wasn’t focused, and I made a mistake. But I won’t make another. My program works when I work it.”

Dusty nodded his head and smiled. “Good. Sounds like you know what you did wrong then.”

I’m giving him way too much information. He’s going to think I’m a loser. Just shut up, Emma. Just shut up now. Emma gave a nervous laugh. “Yeah.”

Dusty looked away from her, his eyes sweeping the room. The air between them became still again and Emma sighed. This is not going well. Reminder to self, don’t date anymore. You are a social freak.

She checked out the restaurant, noticing the other couples leaning in, talking to one another, seeming at ease and happy to be out. Obviously this wasn’t their first date. Shit, shit, shit, what can I say? Emma frantically thought. This is so embarrassing.

Her phone rang. Relieved, she reached for her bag and dug it out, apologizing to Dusty. “I’m sorry. This is my sister. I need to tell her where I am.”

“No problem. Safety first,” Dusty answered and grinned.

“Hello?” Emma answered quietly.

The waitress showed back up with their tea, setting it down and looking at each of them before turning to walk away. It was obvious she wanted to take their order and Emma had put her off by leaning the opposite way with her phone, avoiding eye contact.

“Hey, Emma. What’re you doing?” Gabby asked.

“I’m out with Dusty Rowan. We’re at the Mexican restaurant on South. You know the one? And he drove. My car’s still at the studio.”

“What about Rickey?” Gabby asked. Her voice was loud, and Emma tried to adjust the volume on her phone without looking obvious, but Gabby’s voice still seemed to bounce around the high backs of their booth. She glanced at Dusty.

“What about him?” Emma answered, looking back down at the table, playing with her napkin.

“Is he okay with you going out with Dusty?” asked Gabby. Emma’s eyes shot up to Dusty and he’d definitely heard his name. He tried to look away as if he didn’t, but it was too late. Emma saw that he’d clearly heard Gabby.

“I don’t need to ask his permission,” Emma answered, feeling her cheeks warm. “I really need to go, Gab. I’m sitting at the table with Dusty. He probably thinks I’m rude,” she said, looking up at Dusty again. He shook his head quickly from side to side.

“Okay, be safe. Call me or send me a text to let me know when you get home,” Gabby answered. “And have some fun! Love you.”

“Love you, too. Bye,” Emma said, and put her phone back in her bag.

“Sorry. We all kinda check in with one another like that, and it’s not often I go out so I just wanted Gabby to know who I was with,” Emma explained to Dusty.

“Not a problem with me. I think it’s a great idea. A pretty, single girl like you can’t be too careful. There’s a bunch of crazies out there, but I promise you, I’m not one of them,” Dusty said and followed it with a smile.

“So... about your job. Have you worked there long?”

“Since I was sixteen,” Emma answered. “I’m still part time while I finish school.”

“Wow. That’s a great job. Is that what you’re going to school for? Animation production or something to do with that?”

“No, I just happened to luck into that job. When I was younger, I had a very squeaky voice. My sisters called me munchkin. I was always smaller than them too. But we were out one day at the zoo, and we were laughing at the monkeys—I of course laughed the loudest. Then some random guy just walks up and tells me he just has to have my voice. I thought my mom was going to knock his lights out, but then he handed her a card and told her he worked for a studio. He was looking for cartoon voices. He said I was a natural. I’ve been doing it ever since. It’s great money for a part-time job, but I’m not sure I want to do it forever.”

“There were a lot of people in that building. I had no idea it took so many people to make cartoons. Maybe there’s something else you can do there. What do all those people in the cubicles do?” Dusty asked, seeming to be very interested.

Emma was relieved. This was a safe topic and perfect to break the ice and sweep away the uncomfortable silence. She could talk about cartoons all night.

“Oh, yeah. There’s the writing—which I have absolutely no talent at—then there are people who only do sound effects. I do some of my own sound effects when they’re in the script, but usually a professional sound effect artist comes in after me and peppers theirs over mine. And, of course, there are the animation artists; they sketch the sequences, kind of leaving them floating out in space. Then the colorists take over and digitally colorize the sketches, and there’s the storyboarding and music recording, at the front end—editing at the back end. There’s all kinds of careers in cartoons. We’ve even got a few executive-level positions.”

“Hmm. I had no idea it was such a big business behind that little storefront,” Dusty said, looking impressed.

“Oh, this is small potatoes. Think how big Pixar is. We’re just an itty bitty fish in a very big pond. Anyway, we’re lucky to have a studio in a city this size, especially since most cartoons are done overseas now.”

The waitress came back and took their order. Emma looked around and realized she and Dusty looked the same as everybody else now, just a regular couple having dinner and talking. She felt herself finally relax.

“So what about Rickey?” Dusty blurted out.


Emma tensed again. Where did that come from? She didn’t know how to answer him. She just sat there, speechless.

Dusty continued. “I mean, I overheard your sister mention him... and it was obvious back at the office he’s really got a thing for you. Did you date long?”

Emma smiled wide. “No. Rick and I sometimes hang out—as friends—but he always wants more, so I stopped hanging out so much with him.” She shrugged. “He keeps asking, and I usually say no. He’ll eventually move on for good. He dates several girls.”

Dusty tilted his head, studying her. After a long pause, he answered, “I don’t know, Emma. He seemed pretty obsessed with you. Not that it’s any of my business. But I can understand why. You’re all kinds of awesome behind that microphone—really amazing.”

Emma blushed. “It’s just a character voice, Dusty. That’s not me.”

“It was more than a voice. The way you moved, the way you danced... The poor girl beside you looked like a rock.”

“That’s because her character is a rock,” Emma said through a laugh. “Really. She’s a rock! A talking rock.”

“Then who or what are you? The way you were constantly in action, you’d think they were using more than your voice.”

“My character’s very animated—excited and breathless—so if I stood still, like the rock, my voice would sound... lifeless. I have to feel what my character is feeling, so that’s why I’m usually flittering around like that, trying to capture the same voice the script describes,” she explained. “I can’t talk breathlessly if I’m not breathless. I know it’s strange. I’m one of the few voices that dance around, panting and gasping, in the studio, but it works for me.” She finished, shrugging her shoulders.

Dusty leaned toward Emma with his elbows on the table. He stared at her—through her—as though he were looking into her soul. “No, Emma. It’s not strange. It’s amazing. And it’s not just the character. It’s you. Watching you work—hearing your laugh—watching you move like you do... you breathe fire into that character. You’ve got a flame so bright it hurts my eyes,” Dusty whispered.

Emma wiggled uncomfortably. Is he serious? This sounds like a cheesy pick-up line, she thought. She wasn’t used to compliments, except from Rick—he was constantly laying it on thick, but Emma had caught on early that he only wanted one thing from her, so his compliments usually fell on deaf ears as far as she was concerned. She couldn’t tell if Dusty was speaking from his heart or from his pants—like Rick.

“Maybe so. If you’re right, then you better be careful. You don’t want to get burnt,” Emma teased him, trying to brush off his compliment in case it was just empty praise.

Dusty looked down and shook his head, his lips pressed firmly together.

“You think I’m putting you on... I’m not, Emma. And I know we barely know each other, but I’ll take my chances on getting burnt. You’re worth the risk,” Dusty said in barely more than a whisper.

Emma truly blushed now; she was so embarrassed. Apparently, Dusty was sincere. All this before the entrée—whoa. She needed to put the brakes on this fast.

“Look, Dusty, thanks. I mean that... but I thought you agreed we were going out as friends? We don’t even have our food yet and you’re getting all serious on me. I don’t do serious. I don’t even date—at least I haven’t in a long while. We barely know each other,” Emma said, trying to sound kind but firm.

Dusty reached across the table and put his hand on hers.

“That’s what we’re here for, Emma. Go ahead. Get to know me. I already feel like I know you. From your little song and dance the night I arrested you to your plucky performance with the meth-head in jail to your tantrum with your dead battery, and then today—today, oh man—at the studio, you gave quite a show. There’s never a dull moment with you.” He paused and looked up, blowing out a breath as though what he was saying was hard for him. “Girl, I’ve seen you in action, with the mic on and off. I like everything I see. You’re a little firecracker and I am not afraid of fire.”

He took his hand back and looked around the restaurant, checking to see if anyone heard his speech. Emma noticed the tips of his ears were red. Why is he saying this stuff to me if he’s embarrassed? she thought. Damn, no one is holding a gun to his head. She couldn’t figure him out. He was definitely a hot cop; he shouldn’t have any problems getting women. He was smart, tall, and well-spoken. What the—

“Wow. Dusty. I don’t know what to say... Way to put a girl on the spot,” she said and followed it with a laugh—a nervous laugh. Maybe he really was into her. Maybe this was the guy she’d been waiting for... but no, he didn’t see the whole package. He didn’t know she used to be that girl. He was too good for her. He just didn’t know it.

“So, yeah... how ‘bout those Bears?” she asked, raising one eyebrow and trying to be obvious about needing to change the subject.

Dusty laughed. “Okay, I hear ya. Here comes the waitress anyway. Let’s eat.”

Emma and Dusty both dug into their food. The tension slipped away bite by bite and neither seemed to notice the gap in conversation. The mood had shifted. Emma wiped her mouth and said, “Are you from around here, Dusty?”

“Close. I’m actually from Tennessee. My family moved here when I was fifteen.”

“Then you can appreciate some southern cop humor?” she teased.

“Sure. Fire away,” Dusty said and laughed.

Emma giggled at his quick humor. “Mine is funnier... So Bubba and Clem found three hand grenades and they decided that they better take them to the police station. ‘What if one of them explodes before we get there?’ asks Clem. ‘Don't worry about it,’ says Bubba. ‘We'll just lie and tell them we only found two.’” She finished, laughing at her own joke.

Dusty nearly spit his tea into his plate, laughing with her.

Emma was glad to see he could take a joke. She’d hoped he wouldn’t be offended. “I’m sorry. I couldn’t resist.”

“Yeah, I know the feeling,” Dusty whispered.

Emma wiped her mouth again and folded her napkin, placing it beside her plate. She noticed his plate was still half full and he was still holding his fork. “I can’t eat anymore, Dusty. But you finish yours. I’m in no hurry tonight.”

“I’m done, too. But why do you say tonight? Are you in a hurry most nights?”

Emma bit her lower lip, looking everywhere but at Dusty.

“I’m just very busy. I don’t go out a lot. Actually, almost never.”

“Emma, be serious. You probably got guys asking you out all the time.”

She shrugged. “I get asked. But I rarely go. I prefer to spend any extra time I have with my family. With school and work, there’s not even enough left over for them.”

“Well, if you aren’t in a hurry tonight, want to take a drive before I take you back to your car? I know a great spot we can talk.”

“Is that cop-talk for park and make out?” Emma asked seriously.

He frowned at her. “No. It’s not. I’d just like to talk more... and you said you’re not in a hurry,” he explained, still looking ill at ease. “Emma, you can trust me. Really.”


“Okay. But not for long. We’ve both got class tomorrow morning.”

The waitress brought their bill and Dusty refused to let Emma pay her half. He quickly stuck his credit card on the tray and handed it back to her.

“Thanks for that. But you didn’t have to. We agreed we’d each pay our own,” Emma scolded him as her attention was caught by a young girl with a toddler balanced on her hip. The girl was led to a table that already had a highchair in place. She was struggling to juggle her purse, a diaper bag, and a kicking, screaming little boy who was not happy to be carried. Emma felt sorry for her. It appeared she was alone and just wanted a good meal out.

“Well, I guess I lied. And you’re welcome,” he answered loudly, as he looked around for the cause of the distraction. He and Emma watched the girl.

The girl wrestled the little boy into a highchair, getting a few slaps in the process. The boy kept screaming, “Walk! Walk! Walk!” Emma and Dusty heard his mother’s loud whisper, trying to calm him down. “Stop yelling and I’ll let you walk when we leave! Don’t you want to get some fried ice cream?” Then she tiredly flopped down in the chair beside him, pulling a container of Cheerios out of the bag and spilling a few on the table in front of him. He furiously swiped them onto the floor. The girl bent over, picking them up one by one, then sat up and blew out a huge breath, her cheeks puffing up as she did.

“Poor girl. She doesn’t look any older than you, Emma. Looks like she’s alone. I don’t see a ring on her finger,” Dusty said and shook his head sadly. “It’s a shame... such a pretty girl. She could probably find her a man if she didn’t have all that baggage.”

Emma unexpectedly snatched her purse and stood up. “I’ll meet you outside,” she said over the loud screaming still coming from the boy. She stepped over to the young girl’s table.

Emma squatted down, getting face to face with the young child. “Hi. Guess who I just saw here?”

The little boy stopped his screaming and crying and looked at Emma in surprise. Emma leaned over and whispered in his ear, then stood up and twirled around, aware of the little boy’s big eyes watching her. “Now remember, if you’re good for your mommy while she eats her dinner, maybe the next time you watch, she’ll say hello to you on the TV.”

The little boy smiled up at Emma, calm at last. His mother flashed Emma an appreciative smile and put some more Cheerios in front of him. Emma patted her shoulder and walked out the door, waiting just outside for Dusty, happy to have used her voice to give the young woman some peace.





Dusty flashed his badge at the night guard in the security post and drove on through. He took them straight down to the boat landing, shining his headlights across the water. He put the car in drive and rolled down both of their windows. He turned down the radio, preferring instead to hear the sounds of the lake and the songs of the bullfrogs.

“It’s a nice night out tonight. You mind the fresh air?” he asked.

“No. It’s fine,” Emma answered. There was a long pause. “So is this where you bring all your dates?” she asked, smirking.

Dusty cringed. He’d debated about bringing her here for that exact reason. He’d worried she’d think that, but he really needed somewhere quiet and serene to talk. He’d been putting off this conversation long enough. “No. Never. This is on my patrol. I come through here every day. But it’s the only place in town with a view. And even better, there’s no one here at night,” he answered honestly.

Emma settled in, pulling her legs up into the seat and turning sideways to face Dusty.

“So how’d you get a name like Dusty?” Emma asked.

“My mom. According to her, she fell in love with my father’s eyes before she fell in love with him. After they married, she hoped her kids would get the gray eyes—hers were brown.”

“And you did,” Emma said. “But is that why she named you Dusty? How did she know you’d end up with them? Gray is a very unusual eye color.”

“It is unusual here, in the United States. But my great-grandfather on my father’s side was Russian. It’s not so uncommon there. My mom gives him no credit though. According to Greek mythology, it was said the Greek Goddess Athena had sea-gray eyes. So my mom prayed to Athena, asking her to give her boys their father’s gray eyes, and she named each of us as an offering to Athena, to show her how much she really wanted gray-eyed babies.”

“So you have a brother? Older or younger?”

“Older. He came first, so he got the good name. Grayson. I got stuck with Dusty.”

Emma laughed. “I love the name. Really, I do. I think it fits you much better than Grayson would. I’d probably like your mom. I love Greek Mythology. Do you think Athena had anything to do with it in the end, or do you give all the credit to your genes?”

Dusty shrugged. “I don’t know. I used to think it was a bunch of bull. Then I got to reading about Athena, the gray-eyed goddess, and I found she’s actually the Goddess of law and justice, among other things. I found this out after I’d chosen Criminal Justice as my major, and after I’d become a cop. So maybe I was touched by the hand of Athena. Who knows?”

Enough small talk. He had to tell her. If she found out later, she’d think he’d kept it a secret on purpose.

Dusty took a deep breath and let it out slowly, rolling his neck before beginning. “Emma, don’t you remember me?” he asked.

“Remember you? From where?”

“I knew you once, a long time ago. You lived with a friend of mine... Daniel.”

The conversation came to a stop and the air seemed electric with tension. Dusty waited for her to answer. The moment stretched on and he realized she was too embarrassed—and maybe a little surprised.

“You were just a kid. Both of you were... living in that trailer, partying all the time. I’m not surprised you don’t remember me. I was there several times with a buddy of mine but always late, after the bars had closed. We could usually count on Daniel to have booze, so we hung out there sometimes. I didn’t know that was you when I pulled you over—not until I looked in your car window and you turned those eyes on me. It’s been years and you’ve changed a lot, but even then you were beautiful.”

“Then—I was drunk, Dusty,” Emma exclaimed. “Why didn’t you tell me this before? Like when I was confessing my drinking issues to you at the restaurant?”

Although it was dark, the moon was shining just enough to see a tear slowly roll down Emma’s cheek. Oh shit, Dusty thought. I made her cry. Damn.

“Um, I don’t know. I guess I figured it’d come up sooner or later. I didn’t realize you wouldn’t remember me at all. I thought maybe you were just not mentioning it because you were—”

“Embarrassed? Yes, I am embarrassed, Dusty. That was a bad time for me. You have no idea. I self-medicated with alcohol. I had a problem. I don’t remember anyone who hung out there, unless they got there before dark. After dark, I was hiding from my demons in the bottle.”

Dusty didn’t know what the right thing to say would be. Sure, he remembered Emma was always drunk. He’d even helped carry her to bed a few times when Daniel was too drunk himself to do it. But he’d always kept an eye on her when he was there.


“When did you stop... um, drinking so much?” Dusty asked.

“Not soon enough,” Emma snapped.

“Can I ask... was it because of Daniel? Did he hurt you? He always seemed to take such good care of you—when he was sober.”

“No, it wasn’t because of him. Actually, he tried to save me from myself. Daniel was a good guy. I have nothing bad to say about him. He held on as long as he could, and when he didn’t see me getting sober, he moved on. I still see him sometimes—a lot, actually.”

Dusty’s eyebrows rose at that.

“I didn’t say that right. Me and Daniel are just friends. I was fourteen when we started living together, Dusty. I clung to him to escape from my own childhood. I grew up too fast. That’s why I’m better off alone. I’ve had a hard past—from before Daniel. I got sober. I rarely ever drink anymore. But I can never change my past,” Emma quietly said.

In the dim light, Dusty could see the shine of more tears silently falling down her cheeks, dripping off to probably land on her shirt, and the slight tremors in her body. He wanted to reach over and wipe them away. But he could sense her shutting herself off and felt more than saw that it was not a good time to touch her or comfort her. It was obvious she was trying not to cry in front of him. Her voice was still strong and steady, and Dusty had seen that before. Whatever happened to her before Daniel had hardened her, made her into a survivor. And many times survivors confused tears for weakness—something to avoid at all costs.

“You don’t know what it’s like, Dusty. To have people who really didn’t know me remember me as that girl. I see the way they look at me, and I feel their judgment. But they don’t know my story so they just make up their own. I can hear their whispered lies. Funny thing, though, the truth is worse than their lies, so I just let them stand. That’s why I don’t get close to anyone... and why I don’t do relationships. There’s too much explaining to be done, and I don’t want to have to explain myself. I am what I am, and I think I’m just meant to be alone.”

“I like who you are, Emma. I think you came through it all right. I disagree with you. You’re not better off alone. No one is better alone. Everybody needs somebody.”

“I have somebody—my family,” Emma answered firmly, turning back toward the front and putting her legs down. Closing him off. Dusty felt desperation seep into him; he had pushed her away before he’d even caught her. He watched her swipe at the tears on her face with the back of her hand and then move to straighten her hair, proudly trying to hide the gesture.

“True,” Dusty answered. “But you can still get lonely, even if you’re not alone. Family can only be so much to you. Sometimes people need... more. I know I do.”

“Dusty, thanks for dinner. Can you take me back to my car?” Emma asked quietly.

Dusty started the car and backed up, turning around to head back toward the security shack. His thoughts were racing. She’s never going to go out with me again. I screwed it up. Why didn’t I keep my big mouth shut? Stupid, stupid, stupid... She didn’t even remember me. I told her for nothing. She didn’t even have to know. What if she never goes out with me again? Dammit all to hell!

He slammed on the brakes and turned to Emma.

“Emma, I screwed that up. I should’ve told you up front we’d met before, whether you remembered me or not. I’m sorry. I want to see you again,” he said desperately.

He didn’t think she was going to answer; the pause was so long. Finally, still staring straight ahead, she said, “Dusty, I have baggage. I’m no good for you.”

“I don’t care about your baggage, Emma. I like you. I’ll take my chances. Stop thinking you know what’s good for me—I know you’re good for me.”

The sounds of the crickets and the bullfrogs seemed to get louder and louder as Dusty sat there, his foot on the brake, the car running, waiting for her answer... but all he got was silence.

“Emma, you can surrender, you know.”

“Surrender to what?” Emma answered, starting out her window and avoiding his eyes.

“Back in the day... when you were living out on your own, with Daniel. The girl I saw then always seemed to be waging war with herself. You’re not that girl anymore, but you’re still armored and ready for battle.”

“I won the battle, Dusty. I guess you don’t see that.”

“It’s not about what I see. I told you I like the person you are. Hell, I liked the girl you were then. You had spirit. You just needed to find a way to harness it, and you have now. It’s about what you're still seeing. Why are you still fighting against your past, fighting yourself? What’s it going to take to prove to yourself that you’ve won?”

Emma sighed loudly. “You know something, Dusty? I deserve a freakin’ medal for making it through that shit and not stabbing someone with a fork. Now I don’t want to talk about it anymore.,” she said.

She leaned her head against the window and closed her eyes. Her arms were crossed tightly against her chest. “Just take me to my car, Dusty.”

Guess that’s the end. He sighed, feeling helpless, wishing he could turn back the clock and delete the last hour from their date, but he’d blown it. The way she sat there so cold and quiet told him that she was done. He took his foot off the brake and drove on, returning her to her car.





Dusty was adamant he wanted to follow her home to make sure she made it safely. She wished he’d just go on, and leave her alone. She was humiliated that he’d seen the way she was before, when she was that girl. But even worse, she couldn’t stop wanting him anyway. Why does life always have to suck for me?

She wanted to crawl in the bed and curl up like a ball. She wanted her mother. Her mom was strong and could talk her through this, but she was a big girl now, and her empty apartment awaited her.

As she drove, she thought back to the faint reflection of the moon shimmering on the lake, parked in front of the calm water with the bullfrogs croaking, feeling the closeness of Dusty in that front seat, breathing his masculine smell—the whole scene was so intoxicating. She had wanted to give in to his need to comfort her. She’d felt him getting ready to reach out to her. She’d known it was coming, so she’d thrown up a wall before her body took over her brain. She was afraid to soften, afraid that she would take more than his comfort, and then she wouldn’t be able to easily walk away.

He was right; she was lonely—so lonely. The first few years after Daniel left, after she’d gotten sober, she’d had her hands full. He’d helped her whenever she really needed help, but for the most part, she was still alone. She didn’t miss Daniel. It was only the last few years she’d really felt the absence of a man in her life at all.

Emma pulled into her parking spot in front of her apartment. Dusty pulled in beside her in the empty space that was also assigned to her. He met her at the sidewalk and she met his serious look with a small smile. It was sweet he was still intent on making sure she was safely locked inside, especially after she acted like an idiot to him. She opened the door, stepping in to drop her purse and keys on the entry table. Before turning back to say good-bye to Dusty, she was caught by her image in the matching mirror hanging just above the table. She looked at herself for just a moment, she thought, but the image looking back captured her attention and held it, reminding her who she was... or had been.


The girl staring back at Emma through the streaked glass was the scared, broken Emma of her past, still there to remind her of whom she really was... and why she couldn't—shouldn't—invite Dusty in. She was blemished on the inside, marked, even if only she could see it. Dusty was a good guy. He deserved someone better—someone who didn’t have baggage—and he would eventually realize it and leave her even more broken if she let him in.

She broke her stare, turning back around to see Dusty had stepped in uninvited. But she gave him a small smile, hoping they could at least be friends. "Goodnight, Dusty. Thanks for walking me in." She held out her hand, intent on giving him a friendly shake. Keep it platonic, Emma, she thought. This one's not meant for you.

Dusty ignored the gesture, putting his own hands on her shoulders. At his touch, a little gasp slipped out of her. She looked up, knowing he was going to kiss her. Before she could put words to her objection, she lost herself in his eyes, mesmerized by the flecks of gold peppered in the gray. The warmth of his hands on her shoulders was sending sparks spiraling downward. She shuddered as the sparks rapidly kindled into flame at her core; she hadn't felt such a delicious heat for so long. It made her want to forget about her past, forget about that girl in the mirror, and just melt into him, even for just one night. She closed her eyes in anticipation, not sure she had the strength to push him away, and unconsciously pushed her lower body into his.

"I saw that look you gave yourself, Emma," Dusty whispered in her ear as he gently turned her back around to face the mirror. "Now look again and tell me what you see."

The unexpected spin caused the flame to hastily move from her core to her face, burning in embarrassment. He had to have seen her close her eyes, knowing exactly what she was expecting and knowing she had intended to let him. Oh my God, he must think I’m an idiot at best and a slut at worst.

She tried to focus on his question. What do I see? She couldn't answer. She could never explain to him the images that still haunted her.

"Okay, then. I'll tell you what I see. I see a beautiful, smart woman. A warm-hearted, spirited woman who's grown beyond her past. Not a broken child. It's time you see what everyone else does," he whispered before turning her back around and leaning in to softly kiss her lips.

The kiss was quick, closed mouth, but in a second, Emma felt a wave of wet desire roll through her. She wanted him to finish the kiss and more. She ached with hopefulness that he would gather her up and carry her to bed and just scratch the itch that had been nagging at her since she’d met him. To hell with a relationship; she just needed one night.

She was half a breath away from pleading for him to do just that when he pulled away and looked down at her, putting his fingers to her lips.

“Lock up tight,” he said.

Then he backed up the few steps that took him out the door, smoothly turned around, and left, leaving Emma staring out into the night, feeling a mixture of confusion and loss and a fierce and throbbing need for him.