Time to go.

After his computer shut down, Deck muttered to Buford, who was lying on the floor by his side. “Let’s go, pal,”

He did this smiling.

And he smiled all the way to his truck.

* * *

One and a half hours later…

Emme was lying full on top of him, knees bent, straddling his hips.

She’d cleaned up after they were done, wandered back while pulling on some panties and a camisole, hit the bed, which meant hit Deck, then settled in just like that.

A new thing for Emme.

They usually fell asleep with Emme tucked to his side, parts of her draped over him.

But after her breakthrough, she didn’t claim the lion’s share of Deck.

She just claimed Deck.

He was not complaining. After she fell asleep, he would slide her to his side. But while she was falling, he stroked her back and hair, enjoying the fact his girl’s demonstration said she was done disconnecting. Now she wanted to stay as connected as she could get, as often as she could get it, for as long as she could have it.

So he gave it to her.

Trailing the fingertips of his hand along her spine, gliding the fingers of his other hand through her hair, he felt her body relax into his and knew she was close to sleep.

That meant Buford was going to have to adjust. He was flat out on his side, his back pressed to Deck and Emme.

This was also the new norm and when this happened, Buford protested with halfhearted groan when Deck slid Emme into his space.

But he adjusted.

Then again, Deck’s dog had bonded with his girl and she’d done the same with his dog.

Another connection

Deck grinned at the dark ceiling.

“I didn’t scream.”

Deck blinked as his hands stilled when her soft words hit the room.

“What, baby?”

“I didn’t scream,” she repeated, her voice sleepy and quiet.

He fought against his body tightening.

There was something else new happening with Emme.

She went to see a therapist twice a week, and after her sessions, she would be quiet, reflective and sometimes distant. This would not last long, and she’d quickly come back to Emme.

But she’d also have moments that had nothing to do with her therapy schedule where she’d wince or appear in pain, both for what seemed no reason. These moments didn’t happen when they were talking, instead while they were watching TV, eating or lounging around reading.

But when this happened, she didn’t share.

Deck also didn’t push.

When she went into therapy, Deck had thoroughly researched post-traumatic stress disorder, and none of these symptoms was unusual.

As for how a loved one dealt: patience, understanding and listening were key. However, after her first few appointments and interviewing Barry and Maeve, Emme’s therapist had suggested family therapy. The primary goal for that was to guide all of them to a better place as apparently Emme held some guilt for the fact her parents were still dealing with the trauma.

Barry and Maeve agreed. They were starting next week.

But now it was clearly time for her to share whatever was on her mind, something she hadn’t done in any real way in three weeks. And Deck needed to be patient, understanding and listen.

The problem was, he didn’t know what else he needed to be. And if it was time for her to share, he needed to be what she needed him to be.

“You didn’t scream,” he prompted softly when she said no more.

“When Harvey took me,” she stated and stopped talking.

Deck closed his eyes.

Then he opened them and replied encouragingly, “Okay.”

They lay there in the dark, his girl as close as she could be, her cheek planted in the middle of his chest, her face aimed to the windows.

She didn’t move or speak.

Then he felt her heave a heavy sigh and she said, “If I had screamed, fought and screamed, a teacher would have heard. Or someone would have seen. Someone would have done something and it never would have happened. I could have stopped it if I just screamed.”

It took a lot for Deck not to interrupt, to let her verbalize her feelings and not try to shut down her guilt.

He accomplished this and when she went silent, he remarked, “You know he was on the edge.”

Another sigh then, “I know.”

“Sometimes,” he started carefully, “in certain situations, it’s good not to fight and scream. It could be worse if you did.”

“Harvey would never hurt me.”

He clenched his teeth to bite back his retort, forced his jaw to relax, and when he had it together, pointed out again, “Baby, he was on the edge. Men driven to the edge are unpredictable.”

At that, she lifted her head, put her hands to his chest and he looked at her face in the moonlight.

“Really,” she said quietly. “I know he’s not your favorite person, but Harvey would never hurt me.”

Deck lifted a hand, brushed her bangs from her eyes and tucked her hair behind her ear, leaving his hand curled around her neck. “I know that’s the man you grew to know. And that man you grew to know is Harvey Feldman. But the man who snatched you was not the man you know. The man who took you was a man driven to extreme behavior due to his grief. You can’t know how that man would react if you didn’t do what you were told.”

Emme said nothing, but even in the shadows, he could see her face working as she thought this through.

Then she whispered, “He said, ‘You scream, you’ll never see your mother and father again.’ ”

Fuck, how could she spend time with that f**king guy? It may have been grief he couldn’t control guiding his actions, but he still f**ked up a young girl.

And that f**k-up started with those words.

In that moment, Deck would give up everything he’d worked for to have the ability to erase those words from her memory.

But he didn’t have that ability.

The only thing he could do was whisper in reply, “You made the right choice, Emme.”

“That was… what I’m saying is, that was not him. To say that. To threaten me like that. I think in some deep part of him he knew that he was going to return me to Mom and Dad. But he said it and he said it in a way that I knew he meant it.”

“So you made the right choice,” Deck stated.

“I have… I was…” She shook her head slightly then he heard her draw breath in through her nose. “I wish I’d screamed.”

He lifted his other hand to curl around her neck. “Everyone, every person on this earth with enough age to have lived a life, has regrets. They look back and wish they’d done something differently. You aren’t alone in that, honey.”

“But what I wished I’d done differently would have saved Mom and Dad three days of terror, decades of fear and a man from spending five years in prison.”

Oh yeah, she was holding guilt.

Fuck.

His fingers reflexively flexed into her neck, he forced them to relax and noted, “You were twelve, taken from a playground. This was not your choice. Your choices were taken away. You hold no guilt for what happened in the aftermath for everyone involved in dealing with one man’s choice.”

“I understand that logically, Jacob. But it’s hard to piece that together in my head. Now that the floodgates have opened, it keeps coming at me.”

“How do I help you get to piecing that together?” he asked instantly and watched her eyes close.

Then she dropped her head so her forehead was resting on his mouth.

This was another thing Emme now did. In ways that were unusual and sweet, she sought his affection and she did it when she needed him to balm some hurt she was feeling. After he’d see her wince for no reason, she’d come to him, wrap her arms around him, get up on her toes and press her face in his neck. They’d be lazing around watching TV, her face would hold pain, she’d turn her head and press her forehead to his lips.

And all he had to do was hold her or kiss her, she’d move slightly away but not pull away, look at him and the pain would be gone.

It was a gift she gave him, allowing him to take away her pain.

So that was exactly what he did. He moved to take away her pain and kissed her forehead.

But this time was different.

This time, she didn’t pull away immediately.

Instead, she whispered, “You know, I really, really like you.”

He smiled against her skin and muttered, “Yeah. I know.”

She moved away and caught his eyes.

Another change, because this time, even in the moonlight, he could see the pain was gone but her eyes were still conflicted.

“I have to tell you something,” she murmured so quietly, he barely heard her.

“What, baby?” he asked and she held his eyes.

Then she announced in a weighty voice that made Deck brace, “I lied.”

“About what?” he asked carefully.

“Way back when, the first time I was telling you about what happened with Harvey. I lied,” she told him.

“How did you lie?”

She drew in a long breath and let it out, saying, “I was terrified. The whole time I was with him. Totally terrified. From the moment he threatened me to the moment he took me to the police station and I saw my parents.”