Cross Creek: Crossing Hearts Part 26

"It's what she wanted." He'd stood in the waiting room of the emergency department for over an hour before he'd finally made himself leave. Emerson had been so angry, and sticking around to argue with her would've only upset her further and kept her from the rest she'd so obviously needed. Plus, she'd made her feelings clear.

You can't fix this.

"And you're sure that's what she wanted?" Eli asked, and whoa, the question caught Hunter off guard.

"Yeah," he said, although his treasonous brain reminded him of the tiny little glimmer of hope that had flashed through her eyes before she'd told him in no uncertain terms to get out. "Anyway, I just need to keep my nose to the grindstone and work. Rocking the boat is what got me into this mess in the first place. The last thing I need to do is stir up any more s.h.i.+t by going to fight about it again."

"You are such a f.u.c.king idiot."

Hunter's head jacked around. "Beg pardon?"

He cut the edges of the words just enough to translate his irritation, but h.e.l.l if Eli didn't back down by so much as a millimeter.

"I said you're a f.u.c.king idiot. You think rocking the boat is what got you into this? I hate to be the bearer of bad news, Hunt, but you got yourself into this."

"Eli," he growled, taking a step forward. Just because he'd always gone out of his way to keep the peace in their family didn't mean he was above a brotherly brawl to blow off some steam.

A fact that Eli seemed to have antic.i.p.ated, because he took a step back and lifted his hands. "Oh, don't go getting all p.i.s.sy. Falling for Emerson twice is probably the best thing you ever did. Or it will be once you fix it. But you're not really going to let go without a fight, are you?"

"She's angry," Hunter said, although it was an epic understatement.

"Okay. So you betrayed a confidence. You thought you were doing the right thing, didn't you?"

"Yes." As dumb as it had been, he really had believed telling her father she was there would help rather than hurt.

"And you love her, right?" Eli asked.

Hunter didn't hesitate. "Yes."

"Well, then, do those of us who have to look at your moping face a favor, would you please, and go get that woman back. For Chrissake, Hunt. Go rock the boat a little."

Hunter opened his mouth to tell Eli he was insane. Emerson was going to slam the door in his face, maybe even call Lane Atlee to come haul his a.s.s to the pokey for showing up on her doorstep like a lunatic.

But you know what, he was a lunatic. He was stark, raving crazy for her, and his brother was right.

Hunter needed to do whatever it took to make her see the truth. Even if that meant taking the biggest risk of all.

"I've gotta go," he blurted, but Eli was already waving him off.

"Uh-huh. You can thank me later, Romeo."

Hunter nodded, already running toward his truck. He'd either thank Eli or he'd be calling him for bail money. Either way, this time Hunter wasn't backing down.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN.

Emerson sat curled up on her sofa with a blanket around her shoulders and a stack of romance novels at her side. Her mother had made triple sure her fridge was stocked, her stomach was full (okay, as full as was feasible, because as both her father and Dr. Ortiz had pointed out, recovery from dehydration wasn't a sprint) and her new prescriptions were filled. Funny, Emerson hadn't minded the help as much as she thought she might.

But even though her belly was full and her body was well rested, her heart still hurt like a son of a b.i.t.c.h.

Haven't you ever wondered what if . . .

Shaking her head, she swiped a book from the top of the stack. What's done was done, and she needed to move on, heartsore or not. But before she could crack the cover and dive into some literary therapy, a knock sounded off on her door.

"Probably Daisy," she murmured. Leave it to her friend to want to check on her after their earlier phone call. Emerson padded carefully to the door, her breath lodging in her windpipe at the sight of the person on the other side of the peephole.

What if . . . what if . . .

"Hunter?" she gasped, after tugging the door wide on its hinges. He looked half crazed, his blue eyes blazing with intensity and his hair sticking up in so many directions, she'd swear he'd driven here at Mach 2 with all the windows rolled down, and great G.o.d in heaven, he was still gorgeous. "What are you doing here?"

For a second, he blinked, as if he were somehow shocked she'd answered the door. But then he took a step forward, his stare growing even bolder as he said, "Em. I know you're mad, and you have every right to be. In fact, you have every right to knee me in the nuts, although I really hope you don't. But the truth is, I deserve it, and I came here to apologize. I f.u.c.ked up yesterday-G.o.d, I f.u.c.ked up something fierce, and even though I didn't mean to betray your trust, I know I did."

Her heart launched against her ribs. "Hunter," she started, but he shook his head and barreled on.

"Wait. Please, before you kick me out of here, please let me finish. I also came to tell you you're right. I can't fix you. I can't fix you because you don't need to be fixed. You're not broken. You might have MS, but you're still perfect. You're determined and smart and every single word for beautiful that I can think of. I should have told you this already, but I love you exactly the way you are."

Emerson's chest constricted, her lips parting in pure shock. "Hunter," she said again.

But again, he shook his head. "I only have one more thing to say, but it's the most important thing of all. I do love you, Em." His eyes flashed with emotion, pure and raw and deep. "I love you so much. I've always loved you. I was just too afraid to rock the boat and tell you, but then I rocked too hard and betrayed your trust, and . . . I wanted to help, but I didn't. Anyway, I just wanted to come out here and tell you that. I'm so sorry I hurt you."

For a minute, Emerson couldn't speak, couldn't move, could barely breathe. Then she realized the truth with clarity she'd never forget.

This wasn't what if. This was what was.

Standing right in front of her, telling her he loved her, Hunter was everything.

"You didn't hurt me," she said, and the look of sheer disbelief on his face had her amending her words with a soft laugh. "Okay, you did. But you weren't wrong, Hunter. I did need help. I needed a lot of things. But none of them more than I need you."

"You . . . need me?"

She nodded, and of all the things in the world she'd ever said, she meant this the most. "I do."

"But what about your parents? I didn't tell anyone about your MS, but-"

"No, but I did," Emerson said, and for the first time, the truth of it didn't frighten her. "My parents, Doc Sanders, Daisy. I told all of them. Not because I had to. But because I needed to. You're right-I'm not broken. I have MS. The disease is part of my life. I can't keep hiding that."

"And you're okay?" Hunter asked, his eyes sliding over her.

She let him look, bruises and swelling and all. "I've had better days," she admitted, because her legs still felt like Goodyear rejects. "But I'm going to meet with the head of neurology at Camden Valley this week to talk to him about better long-term treatment options, and Doc Sanders and I will work out a schedule to accommodate my relapses when they occur."

"And you did all of this because I told your father you were in the ED?"

Emerson smiled, taking a step toward him. "I did all of this because you showed me that honesty was what I needed. I was just too scared of not being good enough to see that you were right."

He met her step with one of his own, bringing him within arms' reach. "You are so much more than good enough. I never should have betrayed you. I'm so sorry, Em."

"As crazy as it sounds, I'm glad you did. You did the wrong thing for the right reason, Hunter. You knew what I needed, even when I didn't." She paused, her heartbeat growing faster in her chest. "Speaking of which, my MS is going to be a lifelong fight. I'm going to do my best to manage it, but sometimes I'm going to have bad days, or even weeks."

For a second, Hunter stood in confusion, until realization widened his gray-blue eyes. "Are you asking if I can handle that?"

Emerson's breath caught, but she needed to know. "Yes. I don't ever want to be a burden, and this disease . . ."

"Is part of you," he finished. "When I told you I had you, I meant it no matter what. Taking care of you is what makes me happy. It's what I want more than anything. You'll never be a burden to me because I love you just as you are, Emerson.

"I know you love me." She closed the rest of the distance between them, circling her arms around his shoulders and letting him hold her steady. "Just like I love you."

Hunter gathered her close, scooping her up just as he had in her dream. "Well, that's a relief, because you, Miss Montgomery, are stuck with me."

"That sounds perfect to me, Mr. Cross."

And as he kissed her face and held her close, Emerson knew deep in her heart that no matter what life sent in her direction, she would always be more than good enough in his arms.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS.

This book has been a truly exciting ride, but Crossing Hearts would never be in y'alls hot little hands if it weren't for the following people.

Huge thanks to my fantastic agent and fellow Supernatural fan, Nalini Akolekar, for not even blinking when I said, "Okay, so I want to write about farmers, but bear with me for a second . . ." I am so glad to be on this journey with you. Chris Werner and Melody Guy at Montlake Publis.h.i.+ng, thank you for believing in this series, and also for validating my penchant for gourmet ice cream. I'm so grateful for your unending support.

It's not easy for a city girl to write about life on a 750-acre farm, so on the research side, I have to thank Jennifer McQuiston for inviting me to her hometown of Elkton, Virginia, to show me the ropes (and the co-op!). Many thanks to Matt Lohr and his parents, Gary and Ellen, who were incredibly patient with my questions about family farming. Also, a big thank-you goes out to Dean and Kay Smith, who graciously allowed me to feed their sheep, raid their henhouse, and "borrow" their dog Lucy for a cameo in this book. Any mistakes made or liberties taken with the facts of farm life are all my own.

Giant hugs and bottomless martinis go out to Alyssa Alexander and Tracy Brogan, who have been with me on this crazy writer trip ever since that very first RWA conference in 2010. I am so, so proud of all we've learned and done, and am humbly grateful for your friends.h.i.+p.

To Robin Covington and Avery Flynn, I'm not sure if there are words for this, but you know I've got to give it a go. Your support and love borders on the astronomical, and without it, I wouldn't be able to write a single word. Thank you for all your encouragement to reinvent the wheel.

My three daughters, Reader Girl, Smarty Pants, and Tiny Dancer, thank you for putting up with Your Crazy Mommy when it's deadline time, and also for bragging to your teachers that I am a "famous author who writes about kissing." And Mr. K, thank you for putting up with Your Crazy Wife when it's deadline time, and also for bragging to your coworkers that I am a "famous author who writes about kissing." I love the four of you more than any words can say.

And lastly, to every one of you reading this book, thank you. Being an author is my dream job, but I could not do it without you. I'm so very grateful to share Hunter and Emerson's story with you, and I hope that you love it as much as I loved writing it. Happy reading, everyone!.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR.

Photo 2013 Robin Gansle.

Kimberly Kincaid writes contemporary romance that splits the difference between s.e.xy and sweet. When she's not sitting cross-legged in an ancient desk chair that she calls "the Pleather Bomber," she can be found practicing crazy amounts of yoga, whipping up everything from enchiladas to eclairs in her kitchen, or curled up with her nose in a book. Kimberly is a USA Today bestselling author and a 2016 and 2015 RWA RITA finalist who lives (and writes!) by the mantra "Food is love." She resides in Virginia with her wildly patient husband and their three daughters. Visit her at www.kimberlykincaid.com or on Facebook, Twitter, Pinterest, and Instagram.

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