Page 43 of Tango (Hunt Brothers Search & Rescue #4)

“Happy birthday to you, our dearest Emmaline!” Mom leans into the camera lens and smiles. Her green eyes are so full of life, so bright and happy. Who would have known, less than two months later, they would be forever closed?

“We love you so much, baby!” Dad calls out from behind the camera. He turns it to face him and waves; then the video ends.

“Love you guys, thank you.” Tears stream down my cheeks, but I let them fall, soaking in the grief from losing them as well as the happiness they gave me for the first eighteen years of my life.

Every year on my birthday, I watch that video right after waking.

That way, I can spend my morning with them and get all my crying done before I head out into the world.

Since church is this morning, I imagine I’ll get a whole mountain full of happy birthdays, and I want to embrace them with a smile, rather than with the gnawing grief that sinks in when I remember that I won’t get to eat my mom’s chocolate cake with peanut butter frosting or enjoy the steak dinner Dad always made every year.

I stand and disconnect the USB connecting the camcorder to my television then place it gently in the cabinet where it will wait to be used again next year. Then, I head into the kitchen for the tea I left steeping.

As I make my way down the counter, my grey tabby, Ash, comes trotting out of my bedroom. “Oh, hey there, bud. Finally decide it was time to wake up?” I ask as I squat down to run my hand over his back. He arches beneath me, already purring. “I know what you want. Breakfast, right?”

At the mention of food, he shifts his bright blue gaze up to me for a moment, then heads for the laundry room where I keep his food.

Chuckling, I top his bowl off then return to my tea while he eats.

After adding some honey and a splash of milk, I carry my mug out onto the back porch. The sun is just beginning to climb over the horizon, sending rays of gold, purple, and orange out over the world.

My backyard is a beautiful array of color, thanks to the Knock-Out roses I planted at the beginning of the season. With a smile on my face and my feet bare, I step out onto the soft grass. The breeze toys with my hair, and I close my eyes, taking a deep breath.

“Thank You, O’ Lord, for this day,” I say aloud, then turn to head back in so I can get dressed for church. As I do, a vase overflowing with colorful wildflowers catches my eye.

It’s sitting on the railing of my porch, closest to the gate that leads out to the front. Sunlight makes sparkles in the glass glitter wildly, but they blur completely as tears fill my eyes.

Every year.

He does this every year.

Yet, he can’t say more than three words to me.

Anger hits me out of nowhere. Whether it’s due to the lack of sleep I got last night or Charlene’s confusion yesterday, I’m not sure. But I know that I need to let him go. That I need to stop waiting for some miracle to happen and just move on with my life.

So, I stomp over to the gorgeous flowers and carry them inside.

Unlike years before, though, I don’t display them on my kitchen island.

Instead, I shove them into the same brown box I’d used to carry in the crockpot I ordered online then get beneath the counter and grab the other vases left for me over the years.

Ten of them.

By the time church service is over at noon, my anger has dissipated, and the box full of vases in my car makes me feel a bit ridiculous.

I’d had every intention of driving to the Hunt Family Ranch this morning but changed my mind the second I got behind the wheel. Why should I give him the satisfaction of knowing just how deeply he cuts me?

What’s worse is I know that’s not what he means to do.

The vases are Dylan’s way of showing me that he still cares. Even if it can’t be what I want, he’s trying to be kind.

But I’m so far past his gestures of kindness. I want him to just leave me be.

Desperately.

“Happy birthday, honey!” Talia greets me as she wraps her arms around me in the aisle between pews.

“Thank you.”

“Are you coming in for dinner tonight?”

“Have I missed a year?” I ask.

“Good.” She and my mother ran in the same circle growing up, so after my parents died, she and her husband kind of took me under their wings. Since they couldn’t have children of their own, and I was a bit of an orphan, it worked out.

We spend holidays together—birthdays—whenever the mood strikes.

She looks past me and waves. “Oh, I’ll see you tonight, okay? I need to catch Ursula before she leaves.”

“Sounds good. See you tonight.”

I retrieve my purse from the pew then start out, right as Kennedy Hunt—Bradyn Hunt’s wife—steps into my path and wraps her arms around me.

“Happy birthday, Emma!”

“Thanks,” I reply with a smile as she releases me.

“Happy birthday, Ems,” Bradyn says, a warm smile on his face. The eldest of the Hunt’s, he was always a surrogate big brother to me. Truthfully, they all were.

Everyone but Dylan.

I never saw him as a brother. He was always—I trail off when he moves into my eyeline.

It’s distant as he’s standing beside his parents while they talk to Pastor Ford, but he’s there.

And when he looks up at me, hazel gaze locking with mine, I momentarily forget that Kennedy has started talking to me.

We’ve always been this way—drawn to each other. Or, at least, I have.

“So, what do you think?”

“Huh? Sorry, I didn’t sleep well last night.”

Kennedy smiles knowingly. “I know you have plans with Talia and Connor tonight, but are you up for a girls’ night tomorrow to celebrate? Nova is still out of town and won’t be back until next month, but Jules, Alice, Lani, and I are ready and available. Sound good?”

“Yeah.” I smile. “That actually sounds great.”

“Perfect. Then it’s a date.” She hugs me again. “See you tomorrow!”

“See you.”

Kennedy and Bradyn walk out hand in hand. I hate the jealousy that sneaks into my thoughts. Jealousy that I’m not wrapped around Dylan’s arm right now. That he’s only across the room but might as well be a million miles away.

I need to get out of here.

I’m headed to Charlene’s next, so I wave to Ursula and Talia as I step out onto the front steps of the church. Manners dictate that I should go to Dylan and thank him for the flowers. However, the first couple of years I did that, he acted like he had no idea what I was talking about.

He’d completely brushed it off, despite me knowing without a doubt it’s him leaving them. So, ever since that third year, I’ve just pretended that I didn’t find the most beautiful assortment of flowers on my porch.

I won’t ever forget that first year, though. How happy I was, thinking he was reaching out, only to find out that he had no intention of ever moving past the brokenness that formed between us ever since he got home.

I’m just reaching for the handle of my car when Ruth Hunt calls my name.

With a forced smile, I turn to face Dylan’s mother. She’s one of the sweetest humans I’ve ever met, and I absolutely adore her, but if she’s there, then Dylan’s not far. He always rides with his parents on Sunday mornings.

Ruth rushes forward and embraces me, her floral perfume familiar and welcoming as she wraps both arms around me. “Girl, you are aging backward.”

I laugh, appreciating the compliment while also grateful that Dylan seems to not have followed her out here. Maybe he’s inside with his dad. “I appreciate that, Mrs. Hunt, but it is so not true.”

“It is absolutely true.” She smiles at me. Growing up, I’d spent so much time with the Hunts that Ruth practically became a second mom to me. Between hanging out with Lani and my relationship with Dylan, the Hunt Ranch was my home away from home.

Ever since Dylan came home, though, it might as well be a foreign country.

“Well, thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Any big plans?” she asks.

“Dinner with Talia and Connor.”

“That’s so wonderful.” She smiles then eyes the box of vases in the backseat of my car. Oh no. Does she know? “Those are lovely.”

“Thanks. They were a gift.”

“Well, I hope you have a great day, sweetheart. Please, don’t be a stranger. I miss seeing you.”

“You, too.”

“Emmaline Franklin?”

I turn at the mention of my name, the voice unfamiliar, and see a handsome, dark-haired man lingering off to the right.

“I’ll leave you to it, honey. Happy birthday.” Ruth gives me one final hug then heads back toward the church. But the smile on her face as she surveys the man, then me, doesn’t quite reach her eyes.

“Yes. That’s me. Sorry. Do I know you?”

He smiles, and a dimple appears near the right side of his mouth. “No, you don’t know me. Not yet, anyway.” He outwardly cringes. “That was—wow—sorry, I just—I don’t know how to do this.”

“Do what?”

He laughs. “Can we go somewhere to talk?”

I open my mouth to tell him that I have somewhere else to be, but then I notice Dylan lingering near the porch steps, staring intently at me. Both hands are curled into fists at his sides, but he makes no move to close the distance between us.

Is that jealousy?

Good. Which, of course, I know isn’t a kind way to think about it, but right now, I’m struggling with who I should strive to be, and the pettiness of knowing he’ll suffer not knowing why I’m talking to this man.

“Sure. We can walk over toward the diner if that works? It’s right there.” I point toward the diner, and he turns to follow my gesture.

“That works. Thanks.” He waits for me to start walking before following along, and I’m so struck by Dylan’s gaze fixed on us that I don’t even realize I haven’t asked this man his name until we’re crossing the street together.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t ask you your name.”

“And I’m sorry that I completely forgot to tell you.” He reaches for the door and pulls it open. I move inside, and he follows.

“Hey, honey,” Talia greets. Her gaze shifts curiously to the stranger. “Table for two?”

“Yes, please. Thanks.”

“Of course. Sit anywhere you like.”