Chapter Twenty-three
At nine the next morning, Brant could no longer hold off on going to Emma’s house. Despite his objections, Mark and Ava had insisted on accompanying him on the flight to Florida and to the hotel afterward. It was a little difficult to throw a man off his own plane, so he had been forced to settle for company that he hadn’t really wanted. It was late by the time they landed in Pensacola and he had been reluctant to drop in on Emma and her family on the off chance that they were sleeping. Instead, Mark had ushered them to a waiting car at the airport and then to a local beachfront resort. Apparently, Ava and Mark had decided between them that Brant needed some moral support. What he actually needed was a good kick in the ass for the way he had fucked up his life so completely. He was pretty sure that Emma would be happy to provide him with that should she ever speak to him again after the way he had treated her.
He still couldn’t believe what had happened. Had there ever been a worse time to completely lose it with someone? Of course, he had had no way of knowing that she had suffered such a tragic loss, but it didn’t excuse him for taking his frustrations out on her. She had done nothing but take her cues from him. He had called her every night he had been out of town, and their conversations almost always had some kind of intimate content. He hadn’t just been checking in on things at the office. In fact, their evening talks hadn’t related to business at all, and they both knew it.
He had called Alexia from the airport and done what he should have done from the beginning. He had told her that he loved Emma. He had asked that she make other arrangements for somewhere to stay immediately. He ended the call by apologizing for letting things get as far as they had. True, they hadn’t had sex or anything approaching a physical relationship, but he had let things coast between them as he struggled to accept the depth of his feelings for Emma. He was at fault for creating this whole mess the minute he had allowed Alexia to stay with him. He had no idea if Alexia planned to return to Carter, but hoped she would give herself time to find out who she was and what she really wanted without a man making her decisions.
He picked up the keys that Mark had dropped off a few moments ago. Mark thought it would be wise to have a car in case Emma wasn’t comfortable with him staying. What the other man had meant, of course, was that he thought she would kick Brant out on sight.
Brant had to smile when he made it to the parking area and found the rental car. Mark had just said that it was a silver sedan with his name on it. He hadn’t questioned how that was possible until he saw the silver Mercedes sitting in the first parking space with a sign across the windshield that said BRANT STONE. Leave it to Mark to rent a Mercedes. Luckily, the hotel was also on Santa Rosa Island where Emma’s parents lived, so after taking a moment to familiarize himself with his surroundings, he was on his way. The drive took less than five minutes. No doubt Mark had planned it that way.
He pulled into the driveway at the Davis house just as Boston walked through the side yard, holding a cigarette—or what Brant hoped was just a cigarette. They met on the sidewalk. Brant noted the younger man’s fatigue as he dropped the cigarette to the ground and squashed it under the foot of his flip-flop. Brant didn’t know why he did it, other than that Boston looked like he needed it, but he pulled him into a hug instead of a handshake. Boston returned the embrace before pulling back. “Hey, man, I wondered where you were.”
“Hey, Boston, I came as soon as I found out. How’s everyone holding up?” Unlike their previous meeting, Brant thought Boston looked painfully sober now. Losing his sister seemed to have matured him almost overnight.
“About like you’d expect. Mom is completely zoned out on something, Dad is trying to act normal, and Em is trying to pretend that she isn’t hiding out in the bathroom to cry. The neighbors and Mom’s crazy friends have brought enough food by to feed an army. Every time they come, they try to force-feed me. It’s quiet now, but the crowd will be here soon.”
Confused, Brant asked, “The crowd?”
“Oh yeah.” Boston grimaced. “From the moment we found out, there has been someone here. It was like a revolving door yesterday, and I don’t expect today to be any better. The service is tomorrow afternoon. It’s one of those all-in-one where the visitation is right before the funeral.”
“Is there anything I can do for you or your family?” Brant asked.
“No, thanks, man. Just um . . . take care of Em, okay?”