The knot in my stomach loosens. “Thank you. She’s been so worried about it. Keeps saying her dragon can’t protect the princess with a broken wing.”
Emily’s mouth curves with amusement. “Can’t have the princess unprotected.”
She tucks the dragon into a side pocket of her tool bag, and the care she shows for this toy that matters to no one but Quinn strikes a chord deep inside me.
I swallow hard. “Thank you.”
She zips the pocket closed. “No problem. It’s an easy fix.”
“Emily!” Jared’s voice cuts through the harbor noise.
I turn to see him jogging down the dock, waving as he approaches. His cheeks flush from exertion, hair tousled by the breeze off the water.
“See you Monday, Kyle!” he calls over his shoulder before reaching us. He grins at Emily. “You ready to head home?”
Home.
The word twinges through me. Home. Not her house. Not her place.Home.
Theirhome, shared.
It shouldn’t affect me either way, but it does. For over a month now, I’ve returned each night to a sterile hotel room with its bland decor and empty refrigerator. A place to sleep, not a home. Nothing like what they have together.
Jared shifts his body to include me in the conversation. “Hey, Leif, do you have any big plans for the weekend? Maybe hitting up the market tomorrow?”
“No big plans.” I force my lips into what I hope passes for a casual smile. “I’m not needed to look after Quinn, so I figured I could use the time to work on lesson plans.”
“Leif brought Quinn’s toy for me to fix.” Emily pats her bag where the dragon rests.
Jared beams. “Does that mean I can finally see inside your workshop?”
Their easy conversation, how they stand together, neither too close nor too far, speaks of an intimacy I haven’t experienced with anyone in more years than I care to consider. Even with the new distance between them this week, it’s clear they share a connection.
“I should go.” I take a step back. “Thank you again for helping with Quinn’s toy.”
“No trouble at all.” Emily adjusts her tool bag on her shoulder.
“Have a good weekend.” The pleasantry sticks in my throat.
“You, too, Leif,” Emily says.
They turn and walk toward the parking lot together, their strides falling into easy synchronization. Jared’s hand lifts to hover at Emily’s back, then falls away without making contact. But when he leans in to say something, her shoulders shake with silent laughter.
My feet remain rooted to the dock for several heartbeats before I force myself to follow them to the parking lot.
The keys jingle in my hand as I cross to my sedan, parked at the far end of the lot. The car door handle is hot beneath my palm, the interior stale from sitting closed all day in the sun. I slide behind the wheel, watching through the rearview mirror as Emily and Jared climb into her truck across the lot.
I start the engine, but don’t immediately pull out.
Instead, I sit with my hands on the steering wheel, and the hollow ache in my chest splinters alittle deeper as Emily’s truck pulls out of the lot, heading toward a place they both call home.
With a deep breath, I shift into reverse and begin the drive back to my hotel room, where no one waits, nothing needs fixing, and nothing is broken.
But nothing is whole, either.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Emily