Beastly (The Ever After Collection) (22 page)

Charlie launched himself at her, throwing his arms around her middle and squeezing tightly. His tiny shoulders shook as he hid his face in her t-shirt (the hospital had loaned her one, considering all she otherwise had was a camisole), and Emma did her best not to cry as she attempted to calm him by rubbing small circles on his back.

Mr. and Mrs. Potter were there seconds later. Mr. Potter’s face was drawn and Emma imagined Mrs. Potter’s eyes matched her own rather spectacularly as red and puffy as they were. “Oh Emma,” the usually robust woman sighed before pulling her in for a hug.

Nothing else needed to be said.

Mr. Potter laid a consoling hand on her shoulder and Charlie refused to unravel his arms from around her waist. Emma found that she didn’t particularly mind all the touching, however. She figured that the people who cared for Heath more than anyone else in the world deserved to take a moment to comfort each other.

When they did finally pull apart, Mr. and Mrs. Potter quietly explained to Emma that Heath’s surgery had gone well and that he had been downgraded from critical to stable condition. He’d been wheeled out of surgery about a half an hour ago and set up in a private recovery room. Doctors had said that the anesthesia they’d used to put Heath under would soon wear off and that he might come to at any time.

Unfortunately, Mrs. Potter had to leave to put an overtaxed Charlie to bed and Mr. Potter had to go make sure that the diner had been closed properly as he’d all but abandoned his post at the grill when he’d gotten the call from his wife that Heath had been injured and was in the hospital.

“Will you stay with him, Emma?” Mrs. Potter asked tearfully. “Until we can get back?”

Emma didn’t think she’d ever felt so grateful to another human being in her life and fought the urge to capture the woman in another hug and proclaim she’d gladly stand vigil. She managed to confine herself to a somber nod instead. “Of course.”

Mrs. Potter patted her uninjured cheek fondly, like
she
was the one who ought to be thankful. “As soon as we find someone to watch over Charlie we’ll be back.” Emma wondered who that person would be, considering the fact that the two people who usually babysat him were… well, otherwise occupied. “We shouldn’t be gone for more than an hour.”

Soon after, the Potters took their leave and the harried receptionist grudgingly showed Emma to Heath’s room. The woman didn’t stick around, and considering the fact that Emma had sent her father to the hospital cafeteria to get something to settle his rumbling stomach, it was only Emma and Heath in the room. Well, Emma, Heath, and the handful of sophisticated machines that he was attached to.

Emma pulled one of the chairs that were pushed up against the wall towards the bed, sat down, and carefully took one of Heath’s hands in her own, extremely cautious of the IV taped down to the middle of it.

She spent a long time staring at him. Emma didn't know how many minutes she spent just looking at him, silently taking in the bruises that decorated his face and how ashen his skin appeared against the pale hospital gown and stark white sheets.

To be honest, she didn't know who she was trying to comfort more by holding his hand – Heath or herself.

And then, whether it was ten, twenty, or even thirty minutes that had passed, Heath’s hand twitched in her own.

Emma tensed, not sure at first if the bit of movement was a figment of her imagination, or even more likely, a hope-induced delusion.

“Heath?”

She gently squeezed his hand, waiting with baited breath for a reaction.

For a long minute, nothing.

But then she felt the grip on her hand tightening. Heath’s brow crinkled, his entire face transforming into a grimace as he cracked open his eyes. The right one was so swollen that it barely opened at all. “Emma?”

Heath sounded confused, the pain medication that the machines were pumping through his body the likely culprit of his disorientation. The hold he had on her hand continued to constrict until the point of pain, his fingers digging harshly into her slender wrist. “Emma. Emma!”

Emma hurried to soothe him, carefully carding her fingers through his hair with her free hand. “It’s me. It’s okay.
You’re
okay. I’m here with you. We’re at the hospital.”

She wasn’t sure if he actually took in what she said, but his eyes connected with hers and the hand around her wrist loosened considerably. He didn’t, however, let her go. In fact, his other hand reached towards her and Emma obediently lowered her head so that he could touch her. His calloused fingers gently ran over her forehead, nose, and chin before finally coming back up to rest against her cheek. “Thank God,” he muttered, his entire body sagging in relief.

“What do you remember?” Emma asked delicately, the hand that had just been in his hair nervously playing with the white sheets. She wondered if he recalled Gunther plunging the screwdriver into his side. And while she sincerely hoped that he didn’t, a selfish part of her couldn't help but hope that he
did
remember what he’d said afterward, lying on the cold, hard ground of the field as they waited for an ambulance.

“I love you.”

She hoped, too, that he remembered she’d said it back.

“I couldn't find you.” Heath’s voice was gruff as the words emerged. “I looked everywhere. Then I saw your truck at the school and that… that
asshole
had your phone.” He tensed. “Where is he? Gunther,” he added, as if it needed clarifying, “where is he?” His eyes darted around the room like he half-expected the jock to jump out at them.

“You don’t have to worry about him,” Emma rushed to assure Heath, stroking her thumb over his bruised knuckles. “He got into a car accident, and from what I understand is in even worse condition than you. Even if he makes a full recovery, he’s got a slew of legal charges pending against him, including false imprisonment and assault with a deadly weapon. He won’t be bothering anyone, let alone us, for a long time.”

It took Heath a few moments to process that information. “Good,” he finally said, not a hint of sympathy in his tone. “Because if he ever even thinks about touching you again, it won’t be the hospital or prison he winds up in.” The “it’ll be six feet under” was heavily implied.

As dark and serious as his voice was, however, his touch remained incredibly gentle as he ghosted his fingers over her bruised cheek. “I remember you saying that he locked you up in the school and that he did
this
to you. He didn’t… I mean… did he do anything else?” he asked, sounding apprehensive.

Emma shook her head. “He did nothing more than scare me and rough me up a little. Heath,
you’re
the one that he stabbed,” she reminded him, her eyes sliding to his injured left side which she assumed was wrapped tightly with gauze under his gown. “How are
you
feeling?”

“Like I got stabbed with a rusty screwdriver,” he quipped, attempting a smirk that didn’t even come close to reaching his eyes. “But hey, I lived, so what’s one more scar?”

Emma’s shoulders stiffened and she stared at Heath in disbelief. “Don’t say th-at,” she said, choking on the last word. “Don’t act like it’s not a big deal that you’re hurt. It’s the
biggest
deal. I don’t know what I’d do without you so don’t talk like you’re nothing. You… You’re
everything
to me, you jackass.” Emma furiously blinked back the tears she had promised herself she wouldn’t allow to fall in Heath’s presence.

For his part, Heath looked gutted. “Hey, hey, no,” he said, attempting to pull her close. “I’m sorry, okay? It was a dumb thing to say. Come here,” he beckoned her, tugging on her arm like he wanted her to get in the tiny hospital bed with him.

Emma shook her head. “I don’t want to hurt you,” she muttered, sniffling a little.

“You’d never hurt me,” Heath assured her quietly. “Now, come here.”

Emma couldn't deny his request for a second time and gave in, carefully squeezing herself between the bars of the hospital bed and Heath’s uninjured side. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and she allowed her head to lie gingerly on his chest, listening to the reassuring beat of his heart under her ear.

They held each other for a long time, allowing a comfortable silence to descend. At some point, Emma thought Heath had fallen asleep and she attempted to move, but he tightened his grip on her. “Don’t,” he said sleepily.

“Your parents will be back soon,” Emma warned Heath, realizing a beat too late that she’d called the Potters his parents.

He didn’t seem to notice the slip and only shrugged. “So?” he asked. “They won’t care.” He paused. “Although the sight of us cuddling might break Charlie’s heart.”

Emma rolled her eyes. “I doubt it.”

“He’ll just have to deal with it though,” Heath continued softly, ignoring her input. “He’ll get used to it eventually. After all, he’s going to have to if I’m going to marry you some day.”

Emma tensed. “Heath…” But she wasn’t sure exactly what it was that she wanted to say.

“Don’t be ridiculous, we’re only teenagers.”

“I like you a lot, Heath, but we’ve known each other for less than a year.”

Or maybe even a giddy
“yes!”
like he’d actually proposed and demands to know when and where.

In the end, Emma didn't know what response would come out of her mouth so she merely shook her head in fond exasperation. “Charlie will never forgive you,” she warned teasingly instead.

“He will,” Heath disagreed like the conversation was more serious than Emma was willing to acknowledge. “Especially when I tell him why
I need to marry you.”

“And why is that?” she asked lightly.

“Because I love you, of course.”

Emma’s heart stopped for a second before fluttering wildly in her chest and beginning to beat twice as fast against her ribcage. So
he
did remember. She buried her head into the crook of his neck.

“I love you too,” she returned the sentiment softly before pressing a chaste kiss to his cheek.

Not long after, Emma and Heath both finally gave into the Sandman’s spell and drifted into a peaceful slumber, safe in the knowledge that while everything
wasn’t
okay, eventually it
would
be.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

“I feel ridiculous.”

It was true. Emma stared at herself in the mirror, taking in the reflection that gazed sullenly back at her. Her brown locks were piled atop her head in a mass of perfectly spiraled curls, only a few stubborn strands insisting on working themselves loose and framing her face. And while Emma could appreciate the way that the mascara Collette had applied made her lashes look even longer than usual, the cherry red lipstick her friend had also insisted upon was just too much.

Neither the hair nor the lipstick was what was causing Emma’s lips to purse in a half-pout, half-scowl, however.

Rather, it was the fact that she was wearing the dress that she’d originally bought for prom. Four hundred dollars’ worth of sparkle and tulle that she’d thought was going to go to waste when the dance in question had been ruined rather handedly by a certain ex-jock currently rotting in jail and awaiting trial.

It had been a month since Gunther had attacked her and stabbed Heath. While Emma’s bruises had faded within days and her sprained ankle had righted itself within weeks, it had taken Heath a bit longer to recover from his injuries. He’d finally gotten the stiches taken out of his side a few days ago after managing to tear them twice in the past month – once attempting to help Mrs. Potter move a couch and once trying to lift Emma up and throw her onto his bed.

She still felt badly about the second one.

Besides the fact that they would both have to testify at Gunther’s upcoming trial, however, things in Emma’s and Heath’s lives finally seemed to have gone back to normal.
Their
sense of normal, anyway.

To celebrate, Heath insisted on taking her out. And while Emma had more than eagerly agreed to the date, that had been before she’d realized one of the stipulations of the outing was that she had to wear the dress she’d purchased for prom.

Heath had promised that she’d fit right in where they were going, but as she stared at herself in the mirror, Emma was having major doubts.

Collette clicked her tongue in disapproval at said doubt. “Well, you
look
stunning.”

“Yeah, stunningly ridiculous.”

Collette rolled her eyes. “Please, Emma, you look perfectly gorgeous. Even more so than usual. It’s really not fair to the rest of us mere mortals.”

Emma shot her friend an unimpressed look. “Whatever, I’m pretty sure Luca thinks you’re an angel descended from heaven.”

Collette raised a pompous eyebrow. “And?” she asked. “Is he wrong?”

Emma snorted. “More like a demon risen from the underworld, if you ask me.”

Collette outright laughed at that, not bothering to deny it. “True.”

Her friend was attempting to talk her into wearing a pair of heeled shoes instead of the plain, pale flats she’d picked out when they heard an approaching car from where they stood in Emma’s bedroom. The car’s engine abruptly cut off and the resulting grin that spread across Collette’s face was nothing if not proof of her demon heritage.

“He’s here,” she said, her voice a sing-song.

The sound of a car door slamming shut was Collette’s que to usher her out of the room. Emma sighed, but grudgingly allowed herself to be led to the stairs. She was aware of her father answering the door, but froze halfway down the staircase when the man actually came into view with Heath in tow.

Because while Heath had always been handsome – beautiful in his own way, even – he looked absolutely striking tonight. With his caramel hair pulled back out of his face, his blazing blue eyes were on full display, and the impeccably fitted tuxedo he was wearing accentuated his tall, lean form. The tie wrapped around his collar – it was a golden-yellow color that matched her dress – was the perfect finishing touch.

Speaking of her dress, Emma found that she didn’t particularly mind being in it anymore. Not if Heath was going to look at her like
that
all night.

Like she was his entire world and he’d never want for anyone or anything but her.

A perfectly timed bark from the ever reliable Sawyer knocked Emma out of her stupor. Fighting off the heated blush she could feel climbing her cheeks, Emma hurried down the remaining stairs, offering Sawyer a pat on the head before finally approaching Heath, who was still staring at her with a slightly dazed expression.

“Uh, here,” he said, jerkily thrusting a red flower at her as he blinked away his apparent wonder. “I figured you deserved a real one for once,” he added quietly as she took the proffered rose.

Emma examined the perfectly shaped petals, bringing the rose up to her nose so that she could breathe in the pretty flower’s natural fragrance. “Thank you. Although the paper ones you’ve made me are just as special.”

She wouldn’t tell him that she had all the origami flowers he’d ever given her stashed away in the bottom drawer of her desk.

Heath cleared his throat. “You look beautiful, by the way. But then again,” he continued, a mischievous smirk pulling at the corners of his mouth, “you always do.”

“Why, Heath,” Emma teased back, refusing to allow the blush she could feel creeping up her neck to resurface, “you’ve already charmed me into this date, no need to continue to flatter me.”

An unexpected
click
and flash of light had the both of them blinking away stars for a second.

“Dad,” Emma whined, turning to scold her father, who was cringing guiltily with his camera phone still extended outward in his hands. He’d been around the house more than ever since Gunther had attacked her, and Emma had been using their extra time together attempting to get him up to date on what he referred to as “new-fangled technology.”

At the moment, however, she was regretting ever teaching him how to use the camera and various other apps on his phone.

“Sorry, sorry,” Miles muttered, pocketing his phone, but not leaving the room. Emma knew Collette was stealthily watching them from atop the stairs as well.

She shook her head in fond exasperation before turning back around to face Heath. “So, are you going to tell me where we’re going?” she prodded.

Wherever it was, she was eager for them to be on their way so that they could leave behind their gaggle of nosy spectators. Even Sawyer seemed to be watching the two of them closely, his tongue lolling out of his mouth as he did. “It had better be the prince’s ball if we’re going dressed like this,” she added jokingly.

Heath offered her a secretive grin. “Something like that,” he assured her, taking her hand.

“You two have fun,” Miles instructed, stepping forward to wrap his arms around Emma in a quick hug and pat Heath on the shoulder. “Have her home by midnight,” he added, the sternness in his voice only half manufactured.

A few minutes later, they were finally loaded into Heath’s car and on their way to their destination, wherever it may be.

Emma frowned in confusion, however, when she realized that Heath was heading in the direction of his house, of all places.

He immediately noticed the odd expression on her face. “Sorry, I forgot something at home,” he explained. A minute later he was parking in front of his house and killing the engine. “Do you mind coming in for a second?” he asked. “Fair warning, though, that if Charlie sees you he’ll probably think he finally has proof that you’re a
real
princess,” he teased. “So be prepared to defend your position as a commoner for the next few weeks.”

Emma rolled her eyes, but unbuckled her seatbelt nonetheless. “Sure.”

She followed Heath inside the house.

Instead of disappearing up the stairs like Emma expected, however, he took her hand and gently pulled her in the direction of the patio door that led to the back yard. “I want to show you something,” he insisted at her frown.

Then he opened the door.

Heath gestured for her to go through first, and Emma managed to step all of two feet outside before grinding to an abrupt halt. Her eyes widened in astonishment as she openly gaped at her surroundings.

The Potters lived on the very fringe of Maple Valley and as such, their large backyard was completely private. The white picket fence that enclosed it was more to prevent Charlie from wandering into the thick slab of woods that surrounded it than to keep any pesky neighbors out.

Tonight, however, the large fence seemed to have another purpose. Blinking fairy lights covered every last post. They positively glowed in the descending twilight. On the patio, a small, intimate table was also set, salad forks, champagne glasses, and all. At the table’s center, the bright light of a candle flickered in the spring breeze and a vase filled with a dozen more red roses stood proud.

“How…” Emma managed, but no other words came.

She was truly speechless.

“Your friends helped me,” he said, plucking the rose she still held in one hand out of her weakened grasp and carefully placing it in the vase with the others.

“
Our
friends,” she corrected automatically, finally tearing her eyes away from the breathtaking scene to look at Heath.

“Our friends,” he agreed, a small smile playing at his lips.

“But
why
?”

He tucked one of the spray wisps of hair that danced around Emma’s face behind an ear. “We never got to go to prom,” he explained softly. “I wanted to make it up to you.”

Emma blinked, caught off guard by the intense rush of affection she felt towards Heath. She bit her lip and looked at the ground. “You didn’t have to…” she trailed off.

He nudged her chin up with a finger, forcing her gaze to meet his. “I
wanted
to.”

“Well,” she said, glancing about the decorated yard, taken in by its beauty once more, “
this
is way better than any prom could have ever been.”

Heath grinned. “Of course it is,” he said, taking her hands and pulling her close. “You’re here.”

Emma huffed at the cheesy line, but while on the outside she may have appeared annoyed, on the inside she was beaming nearly as brightly as the multitude of lights strung up on the fence.

She was taken by surprise once more when Heath released her hands in order to pull out a stack of folded papers. He took a deep breath before handing them to her. Her brow drew together in bewilderment, but took them.

“What’s this?” she asked.

“One is an acceptance letter from Springfield Community College; I got in,” he said, speaking so quickly that Emma almost wasn’t able to make out the words. “The other is a congratulatory note from one of those fancy scholarship foundations you insisted that I write in to.” He paused. “They agreed to pay for my entire first semester. I… I just wanted a memorable way to tell you.”

Once the shock wore off, the unadulterated joy that followed had Emma dropping the papers and practically throwing herself at Heath. Luckily, he caught her.

“That’s great news,” she said, squeezing her arms tightly around his neck as he wrapped his own arms around her waist.

Emma would never admit it, but she’d been worried how they would manage to make their relationship work if Heath decided not to go to college next fall. She knew that she’d never willingly leave Heath, but she’d been half-afraid that after graduation next week
he
might use college as an excuse to get rid of
her
, citing that she deserved better than him as he was still sometimes prone to saying.

“You sure you won’t get sick of me?” he teased.

“Never.”

And just to make sure he knew that she meant it, Emma pulled away just enough so that she could entangle her hands in the back of Heath’s hair and press her lips to his. Heath’s hands tightened around her waist, pulling her towards him until their bodies were pressed flush against each other’s. His stubble rubbed against her chin as he nipped her bottom lip and traced her top one with his tongue. Emma sighed into Heath’s mouth, taking her time to sensually explore its depths until they were forced to pull away for air.

Emma desperately wanted to make fun of Heath’s resulting dopey smile, but knew she was likely wearing the same stupid grin.

“Hold on,” he said, gently disentangling himself from her arms so that he could pick up the papers she’d dropped and turn on the sophisticated stereo system he had set up on the patio. He pressed a few buttons before soft music emerged from the speakers placed strategically around the yard.

He turned back to her. “May I have this dance?” he asked, the same smile still glued to his face as he offered her his hand.

Still feeling giddy from the rush of pheromones Heath’s good news and their kiss had caused, she placed her hand in his. “You may.”

Without further ado, Heath pulled her out onto the grassy dance floor.

“Is it like this in your books?” Heath asked after a few minutes of gentle swaying, her cheek lying against his chest and his cheek resting on her hair. “I admit that I worried how it would measure up to all those grand gestures and happily ever afters you read about.”

“It’s even better,” Emma assured him quietly, snuggling further into his chest.