When his arms finally wrapped around her, too, squeezing tight, she was thankful they no longer had to be solitary in their confinements.
* * *
Standing in the sh
ower the next morning, Jayden tried to wash off everything that was different about him and return to the person he knew. He’d left Emma’s house before she was even out of bed. Purposely. Though he’d joined her back in bed the evening before, he’d lain awake most of the night.
Was he helping her, a woman grieving for the child she’d lost when she’d been still partially a child herself, a woman who had a sizable collection of past relationship hurts? Or was he just serving himself?
Did it matter if he was getting what he wanted in being with Emma, as long as he didn’t have a family with her?
Walking away from her, once they’d caught whoever was behind the threats, didn’t seem right. And yet...finding his own personal happiness...not right, either. He’d promised himself he wouldn’t waltz out and have what he’d stolen from Emory.
There were some things that couldn’t change.
His father had taught him that.
Stopping with his head under the spray, he straightened, pulling himself out of the water completely as that last thought occurred to him. His father...who never changed. Sometimes that was a good thing.
And Jayden had witnessed times when, while it wasn’t necessarily bad, it seemed...sad somehow. Like never tasting new foods. Such a small thing. But almost seemed...wasteful...somehow, to have perfectly good taste buds in your mouth and not let them have an experience...
Shutting off the water, he grabbed his towel. Dried off as he always did. Top down. Feet last. And thought about Emma’s suggestion that he try to see the Smiths.
He wanted to hate the idea. To know in his gut that it was wrong. He’d been over the question in every way he could ask and answer it during the long night hours.
And feared that it was himself he was sparing by staying away from Emory’s parents all these years. How could he face them, knowing what he’d done?
Because, like Emma had said, if the Smiths didn’t want to see him, they didn’t need him to protect them from it happening. They’d simply say no.
It would be different if they’d ever told him to stay away from them. Then he’d be doing so for their sakes. Out of respect.
So...was it himself he was protecting?
And so thinking, how could he not at least offer to see them?
It was Saturday. A day he’d taken off because of the week they’d had. He’d planned to surf. Work out. Buy cat food.
Maybe try to get a look at the thing. And figure out what to call it. It was eating the food he left every morning. Leaving messes for him to clean.
Officers would be on Emma’s house until he returned to her house that evening. Or someone would catch a lucky break and they’d find the guy trying to shut her up. For all he knew, she’d be going into the office. She often did on Saturdays. And since she’d been working from home all week, she’d probably want to get caught up on things while the office was quiet.
That’s what he would choose to do if it were him: go to his office.
Putting on dark shorts and a casual pullover shirt, he slipped on a pair of dock shoes and grabbed his keys. The gym was open all day. He could go to the beach in the afternoon and at least get in some swimming. Maybe, that morning, he’d drive down to see his folks. To talk to his dad about trying new foods.
On his way, he made a call. Asked Leon, his sometime partner, for a favor. And when Leon got back to him with a number, he instructed his hands-free dialing assistant to make the call.
Emory’s mother started to cry when he identified himself to her. Told him he was welcome to come by anytime. And within the hour, he was sitting in her living room, holding a glass of tea he didn’t want.
She’d moved since he’d known them. Into a much smaller place. Emory had had a younger sister, he recalled, who was now married with a couple of kids and living just a couple of blocks away.
Mrs. Smith—Ms. White, now that she was divorced—lived alone.
Another nail in his coffin.
The death of a child was one of the major causes for divorce, Jayden knew from his many hours of counseling studies.
“I’m just so sorry,” he blurted out in the middle of their catching-up politeness. “I wish it could have been me, not him, Ms. White. I swear to you, not a day goes by that I don’t think of him. Every morning, I know my goal is to live in a way that would honor my having known him.”