Free The Righteous and The Wicked by April Emerson Page A

make sure it’s not.
    They walk through the moonlit parking lot and reach his Jeep. The night is silent, except for the call of an owl up above. Eric holds the passenger door open for her.
    “What are you doing?”
    “I’m driving us home.”
    Emma’s confused. “But I have my car here.”
    “We’ll come back for it tomorrow. Please, just let me take you home,” he begs.
    “I’m okay to drive. I wasn’t drinking.”
    They engage in another staring contest and Eric relents. He sighs and shuts the door.
    “Fine.”
    He folds his arms across his chest. He looks hopeless and beaten. Emma can’t understand why he’s having such a strong reaction to her presence in the bar, but it makes her ache to see him so upset. She longs to comfort him like she did after the bee stings. She wants to ease his pain. She steps toward him, following through on her private vow. He looks up, and the storm is evident in his eyes, plaguing and tormenting him. She wants to chase it away.
    She thinks of confessing and telling him that she knows about his struggle, but she fears he would push her away. Stepping closer, she takes both his hands in hers and then slides her palms up his arms, over his biceps, to his shoulders, around his neck. Their bodies linger an inch apart. Then Emma rests herself against his chest.
    Eric wraps his arms across her back, and pulls her closer, sliding his hand into her hair. He presses her into him, resting his cheek on top of her head. Their pain becomes one pain as they embrace, and the river of loneliness that runs through each of them evaporates. She can feel the storm retreat; his heartbeat slows to a steady, contented rhythm. She rubs her cheek against the soft cotton of his shirt, and feels the heat of his body just beneath it. He breathes in the sweet scent of her hair, and they are silent. Peaceful.
    An owl has left its perch in a nearby tree and circles high above them. It glides and soars through the starlit sky. It doesn’t notice them holding each other in the light of the moon. It doesn’t see the single tear that’s escaped from Eric’s eye. It is unaware that Eric’s arms are gripping Emma tighter, holding her closer. It doesn’t hear Emma whispering, “It’s okay. It’s okay. It’s okay,” into Eric’s chest, over and over again.

Chapter Eleven
    Emma wakes to find her hand gripping the pillow next to her. No head rests there. She’s annoyed that she still searches for Aaron in her sleep, but this morning when she wakes, she wishes it were Eric lying there.
    She rolls over and stares at the clock. One o’clock . She jolts upright in bed and listens. Silence. It’s Saturday afternoon and it is silent. No hammering, bulldozing, sawing or banging.
    Silence.
    She feels rested, she feels awake. She lies back into her pillow and remembers last night. Eric, feeding his need. The sin Emma has witnessed several times before. She was repulsed by his obvious dirty deed in the bathroom and attracted to him for the exact same reason. Regardless of what plagues him, she craves him. She wants him. Witnessing him trying to protect her from Ryan heightened that deranged attraction.
    Eric, wounded and vulnerable. So lonely and desperate. The intimate moment they shared was profound. He let her inside just a bit further, she got just a little closer. His burden weighs on him, and Emma would do anything to try to take that pain away. She has thought of a way, but she’s not ready to share it with him. Not yet.
    Eric is the first man who has held her since her husband. While they were standing there together in the moonlight, she felt a burning desire for him, but also a need to save him. Once again, she felt the inexplicable sensation that Eric had been brought to her for a reason. He was meant to be in her arms. It was as if the world could fall away and she would be content to remain there, with her head pressed against his chest. She has felt that way for only one other man.
    The sunlight