The weeks slipped by, and the sun was finally warming up the Washington peninsula. June was one of Wyatt's favorite months of the year, but he had long since given up on enjoying his summers. That had all changed having his woman, his best friend, and a precocious kid in his life now. The latter of which was what finally got Emma to agree to go fishing, but only if Jessie came too.
Each weekend found the five of them out at Lake Cushman with their poles in the water, well at least two. Li'l W liked to chase River around or swim in the shallows with Emma and Jess. Things were easy between all of them since Emma, River, and little Wyatt could hear him. He and Mike still used the tablet, but it was obvious his friend had been as lonely as he was over the years, so Wyatt was happy to just let him talk.
His favorite conversations were prodding Mike about a particular, dark-skinned, full-figured Latina who somehow managed to render Mike speechless at least once every time they all hung out.
"She's wonderful, man. Sexy, smart, funny as shit, doesn't seem to care if I have ten dollars or a thousand, but she's also young, gorgeous, owns her own business, and can have anyone she wants in life."
When Mike looked over, Wyatt shrugged and spun his hand in the go on gesture. They were getting pretty good with body language as long as Wyatt wore enough so Mike could make out his movements. They knew each other so well, Mike swore he could hear Wyatt's thoughts in his own head sometimes.
"I'm a divorced, single dad, nearing forty with a struggling company, and a terrible reputation."
They had had this conversation before, but Wyatt wasn't about to let his friend give up. He handed over his pole and pulled the tablet out of his waders.
'I found the love of my life, and I'm fucking dead. Spare me your excuses. Ask the girl out.'
Mike laughed, glancing over at where the two women built towers out of rocks with his son. "Can't argue with that. Come to Dockside with me tonight?"
'This trip is hard on her leg, but we can take Li'l W home with us, and you go be a single man for a night.'
"You're offering to babysit?" Mike asked in amused shock.
'Call it wingman adult style.'
"Ain't that the truth. Our parents really did not prepare us for this shit."
'Our parents are all still alive and married, even if it is your fathers... third?'
"Ha, you missed the fourth, and he's currently dating his fifth. The invitation should come any day now."
'My opinion, you're doing a hell of a lot better than he did. Wyatt's a fantastic kid.'
"Thanks man."
That Friday was Li'l W's first night in the guest room upstairs. The next Friday was his third. Mike would never ask this many times in one week, but Jessie had no problem hitting up Emma, who was delighted to have her favorite kid at the house. It meant waffles, mac 'n cheese, and the shrieking laughter of a child. Best of all, it was someone else who could interact with Wyatt like he was still alive. Watching the two of them play with River in the backyard had her living out a fantasy that had long been forgotten.
⚞❖⚟
Emma woke to find Wyatt in a mood. The man was so even-keeled that the grumpy version who was quiet and distant had her a bit worried.
"Love, talk to me. What's wrong?" she asked, stepping into the darkroom where he was setting up the enlarger that had finally come in the mail. Emma sat a plate of his favorite molasses cookies on the counter and watched as he tried and failed to ignore them.
"June twentieth. It's Tay's birthday today. I've been with him every single one since he was born, even after I died."
"Then go," she said. "He's made a lot of mistakes, but he's still your brother. And we don't know for certain that it was him in that truck or even that it was your truck. The police could never confirm that."
"We know it was him. I guarantee he has my truck stashed somewhere."
"Don't think about me or the past. If you want to see him, go see him. He doesn't even have to know you're there. Do it for you."
"You don't think I'm crazy? I mean he may have gotten me killed and tried to kill you. I hate him, and yet, I love him."
"I can understand that. They say it's a fine line, so step on the side of love and pop over there."
"You're incredible. Save these for me?" he asked, nodding at the plate before shoving an entire cookie in his mouth.
"I made plenty. Go on. I'll see you later," Emma grinned.
"Love you," he said, popping out of the room.
Emma went back up, let River out to play in the back, and finished some emails before jumping on a call with Peter Lamb, the latest author she had been assigned. He was the first male writer she had worked with directly, and his perspective on dystopian romance was exciting.
"Hey, Peter, I'm sorry to cut this a little short. Someone is at my door. Same time next Tuesday?" she asked, picking up the phone to start her walk to the front. Her leg was getting better, but she still wasn't moving around as fast as she did before.
"Sounds good. Thanks for your help, Emma."
She slipped the phone into the back pocket of her jeans and flung the door open without even thinking to look at who was standing on the other side.
"Todd!" she exclaimed.
"Christ, you got fat," he sneered, his eyes roaming down her sky-blue silk dress shirt and fitted white capri jeans. It was one of Emma's favorite outfits, and she liked that he disapproved.
"What are you doing here?"
Instead of answering, Todd gripped her bicep and yanked her out the door. Emma stumbled after him, not having the strength to dig in her heels without torquing her leg. It wasn't until they cleared the porch that a familiar icy fear slid under her skin. There were news channels, reporters, and photographers all rushing up around them.
"As promised, here is my wayward wife," Todd said before Emma could utter a word. "Her pill addiction had become so extreme, we thought it was better to separate while she tried to recover. Honestly, I wasn't sure if she would, and though not an excuse, it is why I've acted out lately," he said with a sad shake of his head.
"Why here? Is this a facility?" a reporter shouted.
All the words were spinning around in Emma's head, but there was a voice louder than any other, her own. She was not his silent little mouse anymore. Before he could answer, she yelled above them all.
"I don't have a pill addiction, you lunatic. Let go of me!" Emma tried to pull away, but his fingers were a vice grip around her bicep. "Todd, you're hurting me. Let go!"
"This is the drama I had to deal with. She's probably high right now."
Reaching into her back pocket, Emma pulled out her phone and dialed a number she never imagined she would again.
"There was no attempted murder. She wrapped her car around a tree because she was using."
"Hello, Mr. Murdock. I'm so sorry to bother you, but Todd has me in my front lawn with a ton of paparazzi."
"You called my father?" he bellowed.
"When his child is on my property acting like an idiot, yes. Now, let. Me. Go."
"This is tabloid gold," a man shouted.
"Are you getting all this?" a woman asked her cameraman.
"Put my son on the phone," Mr. Murdock growled.
"He wants to talk to you."
Todd grabbed her phone, hitting the end button and tossing it behind him before changing tactics.
"Why did you leave me all alone right before Christmas? I thought you were sick."
"Were the public make-out sessions and table dancing at Black Diamond because you thought she was sick?" a woman shouted, stirring the pot.
Emma's eyes darted to her, and she gave the woman an amused smirk. She was so grateful for the question. Even if Todd blew the NDA, she could not afford it, so she needed someone to speak for her. Emma had no idea how to respond to this line of questioning, but luckily, she didn't have to. The cameras and faces all swiveled to a giant man covered tip to toe, storming towards them.
"Who the hell..."
Todd didn't get a chance to finish that statement before Wyatt scooped Emma up into his arms.
"Tell that fuck your fiancé will kill him the next time he steps foot on this property," he growled.
The reporters excitedly shouted more questions, but Wyatt turned abruptly back toward the house.
"If you come back, my fiancé will kick your ass, and I'll call the police," Emma hollered over his shoulder, enjoying this much more than she should.
"Your fiancé! Who the fuck would marry you?"
Wyatt's entire body went rigid as he stopped in his tracks, but there wasn't much he could do.
"I give you the real Todd Murdock, everyone. Have fun," she yelled. "Let's go inside, love," she whispered softly, wrapping her arms around his neck and stroking his head through the balaclava he wore.
The second they were through the door, Emma pulled off his sunglasses and the ski mask and planted her mouth over his. Wyatt was so angry he could barely function, but getting her safely inside did a lot to calm his rage. Her tongue sliding into his mouth did the rest, and he sat on the couch holding her in his arms. Emma felt powerful, vindicated, and above all, heard. This emotion poured into her kiss as she attacked Wyatt's mouth with fervor.
"More, please," Emma begged against his lips, her hands going for the buttons on his shirt.
"Emma, baby, I don't want to hurt you," he said, stopping her fingers.
"It's been seven weeks. I'm fine, please. I don't want to wait any longer. I can't," she pleaded, looking up at him. "Wyatt, please. Please. I want you so badly. All of you."
Lifting Emma in his arms, he carried her silently up the stairs, and into the bedroom, carefully placing her feet on the floor. He had tried so hard to be a gentleman, to do what was right for his little bird as she healed, but no man would be able to resist such an ardent plea. Wyatt would be a fool to deny her anything. He undid each button on her blouse, taking the time to fully shift his energy from murderous to passionate. The last thing he wanted was to cause her pain, especially in the bedroom.
Emma worked through his buttons, pulling the long-sleeved shirt off followed by his white T-shirt underneath. Undressing her much faster, Wyatt disappeared and reappeared to remove everything below his waist in one go. When they stood naked, it was nothing new, but Emma still felt nervous.
In the last few weeks, Wyatt had spent a fair amount of time between her legs whether it be with his tongue, fingers, or one of the many toys he enjoyed using. Emma had been tied up, blind folded, tormented by cutlery, drizzled in oils, teased with brushes and feathers, pinched, and caressed to the point of screaming orgasms and oblivion. And still this was different.
She wasn't sure how he was so restrained. Every nerve in her body was firing, begging her to jump on him and start pounding away. But he just looked at her, his eyes slowly skimming every inch, lingering on the red mark that formed around her bicep from Todd's grip, and continuing down.
"I'm okay," she whispered, realizing this was an assessment.
"Twice you've been attacked while I was gone," he said quietly.
"That was hardly an attack. A confrontation with an idiot, but I'm okay. I promise, and you made sure of that."
Emma stepped forward, pressing the length of her body against him, and taking his face in her hands.
"My protector. You came just in time to hand me the win. Now, please celebrate me getting the last word. It was the first time that has ever happened."
The anger, insecurity, and worry that held him back disappeared with her words, and he finally claimed her mouth with all the passion he had held at bay for weeks, his hands finding her full breast and curvy backside. He walked them backwards until she pulled from his lips and lowered down on the bed, sliding over with the sexiest timid smile. His little bird was still in there, but she now radiated with an inner poise and curiosity that made her irresistible.
Emma sucked in a deep breath and spread her legs, an invitation for him to crawl between them. The way his heated stare zeroed in on her sex brought a rush of decadent tingles to the surface. Her nipples puckered in anticipation, and when he kissed up her left thigh, gently maneuvering her healing leg, she felt herself swoon. Wyatt was the most considerate, attentive man she had ever met, and as he worked up her body, sucking a nipple between his teeth, she knew this would be no different.
He had finally allowed Emma to touch him a few times, but stroking him with her hands was nothing compared to feeling him slide through her slick folds. She had wanted this for so long. So had he. His hand traced up her side, circling around her breast. Their mouths moved against each other, and when he angled his hips to notch inside her, Wyatt swallowed the gasp that rose up her throat.
"You are so tight, little bird," Wyatt whispered, kissing along her jaw.
"You're so big," she replied, flexing her hips to take a little more of him. "More. I need more."
Wyatt pushed up on his arms and sank inside her body in one solid thrust. Emma's cry quickly turned to a moan as she gripped his ass with her hands, holding him firmly against her. When he rolled his hips, she groaned, and he smirked with appreciation.
"You feel so fucking perfect," he praised, slowly pulling out and then slamming back in. "So perfect."
"Ooh, uh-huh, oh."
He chuckled and dropped back down over her body, taking her speechless lips and kissing her as he rocked his hips, memorizing every sensation. It was like the very first time but without all the awkward lack of know-how. The slow tease felt good, but it couldn't last. Wyatt slid his arm under her left leg and secured it to his side, changing their position.
"I've got your leg. When I slam deep inside of you, I want all your screams to be pure pleasure," he grinned, and that was all the warning he gave.
Emma's nails ran down Wyatt's back, digging in as he thrust into her, hitting the very spot he promised. Even with all his size and power, she wanted more, meeting each pump of his hips with her own. She locked her free leg around his glutes, determined to feel as much of him as possible. Their combined moans, grunts, and cries filled the air, and they fought back the impending rush of orgasm to draw this out as long as possible.
"You take me so good, baby. So good," Wyatt rasped, leaning to his left to get even deeper.
Just when she thought the pleasure was about to burst inside her, he pulled out, but her complaint was silenced when he sat them up and pulled her legs around his hips. Pushing back in, Emma felt him in all new places.
"Ride me, baby. Grind down on my cock. Fuck, yes. Just like that."
Emma had always been on her back, but once again, Wyatt was giving her control, encouraging her own power. The real surprise was how much she liked it. Her body knew exactly what to do, her hips naturally rolling against him, and her hands plastered to his bulging pectorals. Wyatt couldn't stop staring at where they connected, his eyes roaming up over the soft curve of her abdomen, until they froze on the bouncing of her breasts. Relinquishing his hold on her hips, he explored her body from an entirely new angle, cupping her breasts and massaging each perfect mound.
"You're so beautiful, little bird. I'm the luckiest man in the world."
"The feeling is mutual," Emma rasped, laying her body over his and moaning at the new angle.
She loved the way her nipples brushed against his chest with the movement and how she could increase the speed and force behind each thrust. This was the sexual diva she had dreamed of being, the confident woman taking her pleasure just like all the amazing female characters in her books. The euphoria of power and sex quickly swept her under and she was screaming on top of him, her muscles spasming and gripping onto Wyatt's unrelenting shaft.
He thrust up into her, loving how her body squeezed him, and when she was ready to topple over, he laid her back down and slipped between her legs. He was close, so close, pumping into her hard and fast, losing all rhythm as his own release built low in his back before spilling over.
"Fuck, oh fuck," he groaned, fighting to not collapse on top of her.
Emma wanted to feel the weight of him. It had been two months since her accident; she could take it. Wrapping her legs around his waist, she refused to let him roll away. Emma slid her hands around his neck and pulled him down to her, softly kissing his lips until he gave in. It was exactly how she had imagined, a blanket of muscle and love covering her. Wyatt supported some of his weight on his elbows at her sides, but she could feel him everywhere.
"You feel so good on top of me. I've never felt safer."
"I love you, little bird," he said, kissing her lips one more time.
"Wyatt, why did you have me call you my fiancé?" Emma asked softly.
"Boyfriend isn't enough. Neither was saying, 'your man,'" he sighed. "I wanted to claim you in front of him."
"Oh, you did that," Emma grinned, running her finger down his bearded cheek. "I liked it, the fiancé part. I like the idea of it."
Wyatt pushed up on his elbows to look into her brilliant blue eyes. "Yeah?"
Emma shrugged, her cheeks going hot as she bit her lower lip. "You're it for me, Wyatt Scott."
"That's good. Because you're mine, Emma," he grinned, feeling himself thicken again between her legs.
"Oh god," she groaned, arching up into him. Wyatt's lack of a refractory period was quite possibly in Emma's top five favorite things about her man.
⚞❖⚟
Making love to Emma ended up being a saving grace because if he didn't have that to redeem himself each and every night, she may have found a way to kill him a second time. Wyatt was determined to finish the room he had started in the basement and finally decided to tackle that odd concrete pour in the storeroom which meant using a sledgehammer to break up all the area that was uneven. The space was only a six-by-ten strip, but that didn't stop Emma from going insane from the noise.
Wyatt started by the door, chipping where it was thinnest and working towards the back. He didn't do it when Emma was sleeping or working, but it still drove her crazy. By the third day, she was ready to reconsider their co-housing.
"Wyatt," she yelled over his stereo and the incessant banging. Admittedly, watching him swing that giant hammer rivaled any version of Thor she ever read about, but the vibrations under her feet ruined it. "Wyatt," she screamed louder.
"Sorry, baby. What's wrong?"
"Cam just got here. We're going to Dockside to keep Jessie company and stop my ears from bleeding."
"I love that you never exaggerate," he grinned. "Have fun. I'll pop by when I'm done."
"I wish I could teleport," she huffed.
"It comes with silence and invisibility."
"Yeah, scratch that," she smiled, blowing him a kiss. "See you later."
"Girl, I swear you glow a little brighter every time I see you," Jessie greeted when Emma and Cam grabbed two stools at the bar.
"This isn't post-sex glow. This is I-may-kill-my-boyfriend glow."
"Still breaking up concrete?"
"I swear I could hear it from the driveway," Cam laughed, finding great joy in the whole thing. "It's about time he did something that wasn't perfect."
"He's doing home repairs. He's still perfect," Jessie grinned.
"Speaking of perfect, Mike didn't show up for Li'l W until after eleven this morning. And when I served him lunch, the man was starving. Know anything about that?" Emma asked with a wiggle of her brows.
"I have no clue. He ate quite well before he left."
"I'm sure he did," Cam smirked, and they all laughed.
"I love that you two are together. You both deserve someone wonderful."
"And I love that you and your man don't mind babysitting a couple nights a week. Mike still isn't comfortable with Wyatt being home when we are um, busy. Apparently, he sleeps in Mike's bed a lot."
"I love having that little guy. Those nights, I get the bed to myself. The boys have slumber parties. It's ridiculously cute," Emma grinned, thinking of both Wyatts curled up with a book between them. They had been working their way through all the Magic Tree House stories.
"Food?" Jess asked.
"Yes, please," Cam said, rubbing her hands together.
"Loaded fries and two bison burgers coming up. First round is on me tonight," she grinned, sliding over a G&T and a beer.
It was great to catch up with these two. They saw each other a few times a week, but sometimes it just wasn't enough. Two hours later, Emma had a buzz and was laughing hard at something Wick had just said, but her face fell flat when Wyatt popped up beside her. He looked distraught and a bit in shock.
"What's wrong?" she asked, getting more than one strange look, but she didn't care.
"I think I just found my murder weapon."
"Holy shit."
"What's going on? You okay?" Cam asked.
"We need to get back to my house right now. And we'll need someone on duty."
"On it. I'll call Myers."
Twenty minutes later they were all in the basement looking at bits of chipped concrete scattered around a black plastic bag.
"I started to pull it out until I realized what it was. That was not there when I was alive. I swear it," Wyatt whispered despite not being heard by anyone in the room.
Emma discreetly told Cam what he said, and dropping into detective mode, she asked everyone to wait upstairs.
"Are you okay?" Emma asked Wyatt once they were alone in the kitchen.
"Yeah, I'm fine," he answered distractedly, wrapping his arms around her and resting his chin on her head, "but why the hell would professional mafia guys leave the murder weapon in my house? It's a wooden bat. Burn it."
"I hadn't thought of that," Emma said, rubbing small circles around his back.
"Because you're not a professional murderer. They are. Which means we're wrong about who killed me," he sighed.
"Mike swears your truck was here and the lights were on the night you went missing. He came by, still drunk, intending to apologize or talk it out. Cam didn't believe him, but she might now."
"If it was my truck, then we're back to my brother." Wyatt's words were hard, and his body tensed before he pulled away and began pacing the kitchen.
"I'm so sorry. From the way you talk about him before your murder, it just doesn't seem feasible, but I guess people do stupid things when up against a wall."
"My own brother, Em."
"Let's wait for conclusive evidence. There's been enough guessing. Maybe this time we'll know for sure."
"I'm going to his place."
"Why?" she asked softly, worried about his state of mind.
"Just to watch him, little bird. Just to see Tay being Tay. I won't let him know I'm there. I haven't since I busted in and wrecked his place. I just, I don't know, I need to see him."
"Okay. I'll be here. It's going to be a long night, so take your time. We can't really talk with police milling about anyway."
"Call Katie or Jess if you need support, please."
"I will. Cam's not going anywhere either."
"I love you," he said, stepping up and kissing her lips.
"Love you, too."
Wyatt disappeared, and Emma set about making a big carafe of coffee and baking some fresh cookies and some buttermilk biscuits. Everyone would need sustenance, and she needed something to keep herself busy.
The basement was declared a crime scene, but Emma was happy no one was asking her to leave her house. As expected, the place was crawling with police late into the night, but Emma stayed in her little library and read. Every now and then, she went into the kitchen to refill snacks and beverages, but eventually, she fell asleep in the leather armchair with the latest Keri Lake book on her lap.
She woke again when Wyatt was carrying her up to bed.
"Will someone see?" she asked groggily.
"They're all downstairs and outside. I've got you, little bird. Go back to sleep."
By morning, the house was quiet. Cam had crashed in the guest room, and there were two cops down in the kitchen. Wyatt said Tay spent most the night at the strip club, but he took off around one to a private poker game below the old Catholic church downtown. He said it was creepy as hell, but the game had high stakes and powerful players. It meant Tay hadn't changed a bit.
"I just want to stay in here," he muttered where he lay stretched out on the bed and staring at the ceiling.
"Okay. Do you want me to bring you anything? Coffee? Whiskey? Breakfast?"
"I'm good for now. I'll pop down and let you know if that changes."
"I love you," she said, kissing his forehead.
Emma went downstairs to find Cam talking with the two guys that had stayed on shift.
"Anyone want breakfast?" she asked.
"God, me, please," Cam grumbled.
"I knew that," Emma smiled.
"They want breakfast, too. They just don't know it yet. This woman is like a gourmet chef. You'll thank me."
An hour later, Emma was handing out dishes of shakshuka with homemade chapati to everyone and taking a plate upstairs for Wyatt. She had never prepared this for him and hoped it might cheer him up a bit. Luckily, her man loved food, and while it didn't change anything, it was a distraction. He ate in the bedroom while she showered, and Emma did her best to continue pulling his mind from painful thoughts by planning their trip to the cabin by Bogachiel River.
Around midday, Emma was called downstairs to answer some questions, and everyone finally left. Cam promised to come back later when they had a little more information. Unfortunately, later was the next day, and Wyatt had been an emotional mess while he waited. Emma had called Mike to come over, and she took Li'l W to the den for a movie, but even talking to his best friend couldn't shift his foul mood.
"My brother, Mike," the tablet relayed blandly. "There's too much evidence for it to have been anyone else. My own brother killed me, hid the murder weapon in my house, let my best friend take the blame, and then tried to kill the woman I love because she almost figured it out."
"It seems that way. But we still don't have proof. Everyone thought it was me, and I know what that feels like. Let's give him the benefit of the doubt here."
"He owed nearly two-hundred grand to the Colacurcios, was meeting with two of their men when I was killed, got my house, half of my life insurance policy, my boat, and my truck, then that same truck runs Emma off the road the same night he accosted her in a bar. And now a wooden bat with blood on it is uncovered in my basement. You saw my truck here after I was killed, the lights on in my house. Then it was returned to the marina parking lot. It was him, Mike."
"I fought with you, was so drunk I hardly remember the day we were supposed to go fishing, had people lie to provide me an alibi, married your ex-wife in essence getting half of the life insurance money, inherited your boat, and was admittedly at your house that night. Using your logic, it could have just as easily been me.
"And just because Taylor's alibi is meeting bad men, doesn't mean it was a lie. Mine really was. I was passed out at home. Lisa's really was. She was probably fucking around on me. But Taylor really could have been in his office with those guys. It's not like anyone has admitted that he wasn't. His secretary saw him."
"He has always had the worst luck. It's a wonder he keeps gambling. But you're right. You gave him the boat. Lisa gave him the money. There's no way he would have known any of that was going to happen. The Colacurcios killing me made the most sense, but this bat muddies that all to hell."
"Or the bat is just another oddity in all of this. Maybe it's not your murder weapon," Mike suggested.
"It is," Cam said, coming into the kitchen. "Sorry, I let myself in after no one answered the door."
"Hey, Cam," Mike greeted. "You got proof?"
"Yes, the blood was yours, Wyatt. And the only fingerprints belong to Taylor. I'm so very sorry. Between the murder weapon, his alibi coming from the Seattle crime family who he owed a lot of money, and the fact that his name is still on the title of your truck which matches the description of the one that tried to kill Emma, Taylor is being arrested as we speak."
Wyatt felt dizzy, overwhelmed by the idea that someone he loved so very much could ever hurt him in this way. It felt like a nightmare. He couldn't even begin to wrap his mind around the idea that his own brother would kill him. That he would try to kill again. Thinking of Emma that night in her RAV, her broken body as he pulled her from the wreckage, the way Cam wept when she told Jessie how Emma screamed.
These memories burned away Wyatt's disbelief and grief, replacing it with rage. An anger so profound pulsed through him. He swore he would kill the person who hurt his little bird, but even with all his fury, Wyatt knew he could never kill Taylor. This only made him angrier.
"The fingerprints are bad, but what if it was his bat, and someone else used it? Everything else is tangential. His alibi could still be legit, though really bad timing. And Wyatt, you said he seemed truly confused when you mentioned the truck."
"He did it, Mike. The weapon, the motive, the cover-up. It all goes back to Taylor."