Wyatt had never been in such a dark place. The last three weeks had felt like torture, and nothing Emma did could pull him out of his tumultuous thoughts. Taylor hired a lawyer from Seattle who got him out on bail, and as much as Wyatt knew in his gut his brother had killed him, he still didn't want to believe it. This was putting a strain on his relationship with Emma as her best friend was the detective doing her damnedest to make sure his brother was sent to prison for the rest of his life.

He understood Cam was doing her job, and his mind knew she was doing the right thing, but he still wanted to hate her for it. Hanging with Mike wasn't much easier given he was so relieved to finally be getting his life back. Wyatt was honestly happy for him and for Li'l W to no longer be social pariahs and to receive the apologies they richly deserved, but it was just one more strike against his brother.

He found himself sitting at Dockside all too often, listening to the gossip mill which was always ready to kick someone when they were down. Jessie tried her best to tell people to shut it or take their negativity elsewhere, but talking is what people did, especially drunk people. Sometimes Emma would go too, guarding his stool so no one could displace him, but mostly, Wyatt just wanted to be alone.

The police department had finally located Wyatt's old truck in a storage facility about twenty minutes up highway three, clearly beat up with streaks of Lunar Rock paint that had been on Emma's RAV4. Taylor swore that the truck was stolen months ago. When Cam demanded to know why he never reported it, he admitted to his connection with the Colacurcios. It went missing after one of his gambling debts took too long to pay, so he assumed they stole it as a warning.

His story was validated when they confirmed that his name wasn't on the storage lease, and the owner said he had never seen him. The rental was under a false name, and the person paid up a year in cash, giving credence to the Colacurcio theory, but it also meant Taylor had told them about Emma. This lowered the charge from attempted homicide to an accessory due to his and Emma's argument the night she was attacked, but he was still guilty.

Detective Lacey was determined to get the evidence needed to close this case once and for all, but the owner of the storage units said everything was handled via snail mail, and he prided himself on offering his clients privacy and anonymity. People came in and out, but he knew nothing about them. It was also why he could charge more than any other facility in the area. Cam was itching to get a warrant for the whole place, but it was only a random traffic camera out by Deer Creek that caught the blue Chevy returning which allowed them to enter. And the owner happily handed over his security footage of that night to avoid anyone taking a deeper look.

It wasn't enough of a lead to give her solid answers, only more questions. The night of Emma's attack, Taylor's black BMW never entered the storage facility. A dark gray Jetta pulled in shortly before the Chevy was seen leaving, but the video quality was too poor to make out the plates. Her money was on the owner of that car being the one who tried to kill her friend, but why? Taylor swore he never told the Colacurcios about Emma. He fought his connection to her attack more than he did the murder of his own brother. Were the two crimes not connected? It seemed crazy to think it was all a terrible coincidence, but she had to consider that someone else might be after Emma.

Since the investigation was active again, Cam couldn't legally share any information with Wyatt or Emma, but she was doing her best to be impartial until evidence was conclusive. Wyatt's murder was fairly cut and dry now that she had the actual murder weapon with prints and blood. What she couldn't figure out was how Taylor had been stupid enough to put it back in Wyatt's house. It wasn't even hidden that well.

Still, it was enough to pin Wyatt's murder on Taylor, but Cam wasn't quite through digging yet. He was demanding a plea bargain. According to his lawyer he didn't kill his brother, but he knew who did. Cam thought he was full of shit, but the detective in her knew she had to chase down every possibility. When she had taken this case almost six years ago, she was still green, and it was her first big criminal investigation. She made a lot of mistakes, and she was determined not to repeat them.

"Wyatt, love," Emma said softly once she found him sitting on the back patio.

"I'm fine, Emma," he grunted like he did every day when she approached him as if he were a wounded animal.

"You're not," she said with more force. "I've booked your stay at the Callahan Crew cabin. I know you're not in the mood for a vacation, but maybe fishing and hiking will help. Either way, you need to get out of here for a while. This isn't good for you or for us. You need to be there this Friday, and it's yours for a week. I'll get you another certificate to enjoy in the future."

Her words finally sank in, and he turned to look at her with a confused scowl. "What do you mean?"

"You need to step away, Wyatt. Go out in nature and breathe, yell, throw rocks, or whatever is necessary to process all of this. Brooding is making it worse, and I'm worried about you."

"No."

"Wyatt," Emma sighed.

"I'm not leaving you here alone. Taylor is out on bail. The whole town is on a witch hunt. If you make me go, I'm taking you with me," he growled angrily.

A small smile tipped Emma's lips, and she walked over to her moody man. Lowering down into his lap, Wyatt possessively tightened his arms around her, and she lightly kissed his forehead.

"I thought some alone time would be what you wanted. If you're worried, I can stay with one of the girls. I'm sure even Mike would put me up for a week."

"No. I told you I'd never leave you again, and I meant it."

"Then I'll pack for both of us. Wyatt," she said softly, cradling his face so he would look at her, "I wanted to go. I just wanted what was best for you even more."

"You are what's best for me," he said heavily, tucking his face into her neck. "Leaving you now would make all of this worse."

"Then where you go, I go," she whispered, wrapping her arms around his head.

Two days later, Wyatt was driving Emma's new RAV4 Hybrid which she allowed him to order in Cavalry Blue. He couldn't convince her to drive a large pick-up, so she left the color and amenities up to him. It wasn't really a compromise. He was well aware there were too many choices for his little bird to comfortably make. Still, he was happy to choose the Limited package for all the extra safety features. He would make her drive around in a fully armored, military Humvee if he could.

Buying a new car was just one of many distractions she had tried to use over the last couple of weeks. Emma had set up a photography lesson for her and Li'l W, knowing Wyatt couldn't help but smile around the kid. He had taught her how to develop film, and they had begun to play around in the darkroom, but he got too grouchy to do more than a few lessons. Mike had taken him fishing a couple of times, and he had spent a few afternoons over at his buddy's house, watching sports and wasting beer.

Mike even splurged for tickets to the MLB All-Star game in Seattle. No one thought twice about a four-year-old talking to his imaginary best friend at a baseball game. He sat on Mike's shoulders or lap the whole time but gave Wyatt quite a few high-fives and countless smiles. That had been a lot of fun, but they all had to return to reality the next day.

He was grateful to Emma and all his friends for trying to soften the blow around Taylor's ultimate betrayal and cruelty, but it was always there in the back of his mind. Even as they unloaded their luggage and the many, many bags of food Emma had packed, he was still distant. He carried in River's bed and another bag of food just for him as the dog ran around exploring the surrounding area, but even that didn't bring him the joy it should have.

"Wow," Emma breathed, stepping out on the back deck that overlooked the rushing water. "It's stunning and so peaceful. I was thinking of taking River for a walk before making dinner. Want to join us?"

"I don't want you going anywhere alone out here, little bird. I don't care when or where you go, I will always be with you. Understand?"

"Is that the forceful, playful, and patient voice you once described, or am I getting a little of the exasperated and irritated side, too?" Emma teased.

"Still happy you can hear me?" he quipped with a tired smirk.

"Beyond happy," she answered, slipping her arms around his waist. "It's just as beautiful right here. We don't have to go anywhere."

"If my woman wants to take a walk, then we're taking a walk," he growled, gripping her hand and starting for the steps.

They silently made their way down to the water and meandered up the riverbank until it widened, and the setting sun shone through the gap in the hills ahead. It was exactly what they both needed—serene, remote, away from the drama in Shelter Cove. Here they could pretend that nothing else existed, that the world had been reduced to just them in this silent paradise.

"I saw so many incredible places when I traveled, but none of them meant anything without you by my side," Wyatt said, pausing to take in the view. "Having your hand in mine is what brings life and beauty to my surroundings, whether we're on vacation or sitting in our living room."

Emma snuggled into his side, thanking whatever force brought them together.

Before it got too dark, they returned, and Emma left Wyatt and River on the deck as she went in to prepare dinner. When she stepped back out with a pan of shepherd's pie, Wyatt moved for the first time in nearly two hours. His emotions were drowning him more than his thoughts. He loved his brother so much, always had. Even knowing what he did, it physically hurt thinking about what lay ahead for Taylor. He didn't want his kid brother in prison.

Tay's trial would begin two weeks from now, the middle of August, a time when they would typically be planning barbeques, taking out the boat, and watching Friday night baseball. Wyatt had always loved sports because they were fun. Taylor loved them because it was something to bet on, and they often did, but Wyatt had thought it was harmless. That stopped about three years before he died when Taylor's addiction became a problem, and Lisa had screamed at Wyatt for enabling his little brother. Had he? If so, his death was equally on his own hands. He had helped create the monster.

It was thoughts like these that had him mindlessly consuming Emma's delicious food in silence. He wasn't actually tasting it. He wasn't present enough to do more than go through the motions. She knew this, and it was okay. Emma could hardly wrap her mind around the idea of a family member you loved and trusted choosing to take your life over something as fleeting as money. There was nothing to say, so she chose to simply be there for him, a quiet support. Not talking had never bothered her, and she knew he needed the space to think and feel.

When Emma had returned from cleaning the kitchen, she found Wyatt on the same deck chair, staring into the dark. "I'm scared," he said low.

Wyatt reached for her, and she took his hand, sliding into his lap. His eyes were focused on the river ahead, but his arms wrapped around her hips, pulling her tight. Emma rested against his shoulder, her free hand settling on his chest. There was no heartbeat under her palm, and when Wyatt was lost in thought, his chest no longer went through the involuntary motion of breathing. He was still as stone, yet she felt unexplainable warmth from his skin, strength in his body, and that electric connection between them.

"What are you scared of?" she asked when he said nothing more.

"A lot," he sighed.

She waited for him to collect his thoughts, slipping her arm around the back of his neck to run her fingers through the messy curls on his head. He leaned into her touch, loving the feel of her hand in his hair. It always soothed him.

"Losing him. And then losing you," he admitted quietly.

"You're never going to lose me," Emma reassured him, kissing his temple.

"What if I'm only here until justice is served? When the trial ends, my spirit may not stick around. I might not have any say in it."

The pain and thick emotion clogging his throat brought tears to Emma's eyes. His fear was something she had considered the first day she looked him up online. She had always known that he may only be here because of the unresolved questions behind his murder. Finding out who killed him was supposed to bring relief, to punish a criminal for a heinous act, but the truth was bringing far more consequences and agony than she had ever imagined.

"My soul will find yours. I believe that with my whole being. Loving you has been the very best thing that has ever happened in my life, and I have no intention of giving you up."

"My sweet, beautiful little bird," Wyatt whispered, his hand cupping her face.

Their lips met with a different sort of passion, a quiet acceptance of things to come and a need to take everything they could here and now. He was slow, methodical, determined to memorize every nuance of her flavor, the curve of her tongue, the shape of her lips. Wyatt's hand smoothed up the front of her shirt, finding her breast, massaging the soft flesh until her nipple pebbled under his attention. He wanted every detail to be etched into his mind, her warm lavender scent burned into his senses, the smooth touch of her skin more familiar than his own, and each line and dip of her body a living map in his soul.

A soft moan slipped up Emma's throat, and Wyatt drank it in, wanting to pull each and every sound from her lips. Breaking their kiss, he found the hem of her slinky, nude top and pulled it over her head. Underneath was one of his favorite lace bralettes, and he dropped his mouth to suck her pert nipple through the transparent pink fabric. She was a work of art and had no idea, but he also knew what had been low self-esteem was now relaxed modesty. This was not the same woman who showed up over ten months ago, physically, emotionally, or mentally.

Emma finally knew what she wanted, and when it came to Wyatt, she was comfortable asking for it. Recently, she had even started to take it, and that was exactly what she did by popping open his jeans and pushing her hand into his boxers. She ran her palm along his hard, silky length, loving the way he felt, so powerfully male yet at the mercy of her touch. He twitched under her fingers as she wrapped them around his ample girth, not quite capable of encompassing its entirety. Pumping up, she swiped over his slit, circling her fingertips just under the head, and smoothing back down.

Wyatt groaned, his tongue lashing at hers, the gentle passion turning heated and feral. Catching her lush bottom lip, he sucked it between his teeth nipping lightly while tweaking her breast. He wanted to tear off the lace that separated them and incinerate the little jean shorts that hid the jewel between her legs.

"Give me more, little bird," he rasped, pulling away to remove her bra.

"Take all of me. I'm yours," she breathed, finding his lips immediately.

His hands were large and still held the rough quality that had formed from a life of labor. She loved the way they scratched over her tender flesh as he cupped each of her breasts while she devoured his kiss. Emma continued to work her hand up and down his shaft, while swirls of tingles chased by heat built in her core. Wyatt dragged one hand down her ribs, brushing his thumb along the small, raised scar from her chest tube. He continued down to her shorts, undoing the button and opening the zipper wide enough to get what he wanted.

Another moan poured from Emma's mouth when two thick fingers rolled straight down her center and pushed inside. She opened her legs a bit wider to give him room and quickly matched the rhythm of her strokes with the plunge of Wyatt's hand. Making him come with her over and over again was the very best part of intimacy with her ghost. As long as Wyatt wanted to go, he could. Emma had enough conversations with Jess and Cam to know that was nearly unheard of and a damn gift from above if the man knew how to use it. Wyatt did.

"I'm coming," she gasped, speeding up her hand.

"Not yet," he commanded on a breathy voice, suspending his movement.

"Oh god, Wyatt. Don't stop," she whined.

He curled his knuckles deep inside, rubbing just along her g-spot, not quite ready to let her climax.

"Squeeze me tighter," he ground out, right at the edge.

Emma narrowed her grip, strangling his cock, rolling her hand over the top with each pass. Leaning in, she ran her tongue up his neck, nipping at his earlobe before kissing along his tight jaw. With just a couple more passes, she felt his body tense, and he began pumping his fingers fast and hard, bringing her right back.

"Now, Emma. Come, now."

She couldn't have denied him even if she wanted to. Her body was completely and willingly under his command, and the explosion inside her was proof. Just as he grunted and thrust up into her fist, she cried out to the woods around them. It was raw, passionate, and repressed after days of heightened emotions layered with stress had put distance between them.

"I'm sorry, baby," Wyatt said, kissing her chest. "You've been neglected, but I plan on remedying that while we're here. We'll play games and take it slow, but right now, I really need to be inside you."

His movements were rushed and needy as he stood, slipping off her shorts and walking them back to the picnic table where they had eaten dinner. She had barely made contact with the surface before he buried himself to the root in one frantic push. Emma screamed out at the full sensation before Wyatt laid her back to stare at the stars while he gripped her hips and used her body. She wrapped her legs around him, encouraging each slam into her core. Her man was working things out somewhere deep inside, and she was more than happy to provide an outlet.

The forceful pounding hit all the right spots over and over sending spirals of intense pleasure along her nerves. Before she could even warn him, every muscle seized and convulsed as an orgasm took over, her mind floating in a sea of endorphins while her body became hyper-sensitive to the long, thick shaft that didn't slow or stop. Wyatt felt her slick walls pulse around him, but his mind stayed on a loop, convinced their time was coming to an end. It was in that moment he realized he was much angrier at Tay for getting caught than for killing him. Taking his life, Wyatt could forgive, but taking him from Emma was unpardonable.

"I won't lose you again," Wyatt grunted, thrusting like his life depended on it.

Emma wasn't entirely certain of his meaning. Between getting run off the road and having Todd come back, his natural inclination to protect her had gone into hyperdrive. At the moment, she half wondered if he was trying to permanently merge, as if giving his mass enough velocity and force would let him solve for more time. It seemed biology was overriding physics because this speed and impact was coming to a phenomenal crash.

"Wyatt, oh god, I can't, oh, yes, yes, Wyatt," Emma screamed, her third orgasm slamming hard through her body. She writhed, bucked, and twisted, yelling out even as white spots entered her vision. For a split second, she wondered if her heart might combust from the sheer force of pleasure tearing through her from head to toe.

"Ahh, ah, fuck, holy goddamn, Emma," Wyatt roared, slamming in and holding himself deep as he felt a release so strong he could almost imagine the sensation of filling her womb with his seed. What he wouldn't give to have had a real life with her, to see her pregnant with his child, to do more than play house, to actually live the dream. But it was far too late for that.

"He can't steal anymore of our time together," Wyatt rasped, his body plastered to Emma's where he collapsed over her.

"What do you mean?" she asked, stroking his hair and loving the feel of his head between her breasts.

"Scoot up," he ordered softly, half lifting her so she was fully on the table. Wyatt crawled up next to her and plopped to his back, tucking his little bird into him so they could both see the clear night sky. "I need you to promise me something."

When he didn't continue, Emma knew he was waiting for her agreement, but while she wanted to give him anything he asked, in this mood she wasn't sure it was the best idea. "Tell me first," she said quietly.

Wyatt sighed. "If ghosts could stick around, I would have seen more of them. It's highly likely that I'm going to move on as soon as Taylor is officially sentenced. And when that happens, I need you to promise me that you'll keep on living. You'll go out with Cam and Jess, hike with Katie, fish with Mike and Wyatt, and open yourself up to love again when it comes along."

Tears burned the backs of her eyes and slid into her hair. His fear was a possibility, but it wasn't a certainty. It was something she had been pushing to the back of her thoughts. She preferred to see a life where he stayed. Everything in her wanted to scream no, that she couldn't just go on without him. There would never be another love, and life would become nothing more than a colorless reflection of what they had together. But she wouldn't tell him that. It was the truth through the lens of her own pain and grief, but it would only amplify his.

"I promise," she whispered, swallowing her sob. "I'm not sure about loving another, not like I love you. But I will keep living. I'll do that for you."

"Not good enough, little bird. You've spent your whole life living for others. I need you to do it for you. Paint the entire house powder pink with yellow polka dots if that's what you want. Eat cake every single day. Spin around to orchestral music when you dance or sing with the little people in the stereo. Stay up with the moon. Sleep till midday. Read every pornographic fairy book ever written. And don't cut your friends out. Let them in."

Emma was full-on weeping now, unable to stop the tidal wave of emotions that were taking her under. Wyatt knew her, and while facing his death a second time, she was his priority. He pulled her tighter against him, and Emma buried her face in his shoulder. She cried, and he let her, stroking her hair as he watched the night sky slowly shift.

"I promise," she sniffed, sometime later.

"Thank you," he said quietly.

"Is that what you meant by Taylor stealing our time?"

Wyatt's chest expanded with a deep breath, pausing as he collected his thoughts. "If he hadn't killed me, we would have met when you moved here, and we could have had a life together. We're making it work now, but again, he's messing that up. Tay got caught, and once more he's taking me away from you. I realize it's not that simple, but it's how I see it. And lately, all my thoughts have been about him. That will change. Our time may be limited, little bird. So I plan on giving every second of it to you."

Pushing up, Emma hovered above him, taking in her rough, artistic, beautiful, perfectly imperfect, man. Wyatt was everything she never realized she wanted. Strength and size that once intimidated her. A scruffy appearance opposite of what she had thought was attractive. A confident personality that had challenged her. And an insatiable sex drive with kinks to dominate, praise, mark, and claim—things she had never dreamed of. Brushing the deep brown hair off his forehead, she fixated on his russet eyes, bright even in the dark. She could just make out the flecks of red around his pupil fading into a rich chestnut rimmed in soft brown.

"You have the most beautiful eyes," she told him, running her fingertips lightly across his brow. "You helped me find myself, protected me throughout my journey, and filled me with the courage to do things I never thought possible. Wyatt Asher Scott you will always have my heart, but I promise my spirit will remain and live just as you have taught me, without compromise or regret."

Before he could respond, she captured his lips, pouring her love, pain, and eternal gratitude into a kiss to seal the declaration she had just made. Planting her palms on his chest, she raised up and slung her leg over his hips. Emma was rarely on top unless he put her there, only because she never made the move on her own, but it was time. This was her man. Taking initiative was always praised in Wyatt's eyes, and he was far too careful with his words to ever tear her down for trying anything new.

Wrapping her hand around his sculpted cock, she worked him gently while worshiping his neck and chest with her mouth. Moving down, she couldn't resist continuing until her lips were sliding around his shaft. The first time she had done this for him rewrote everything she knew of giving oral. Wyatt, as expected, was nothing like Todd. He knew when and where to be rough just as he knew how to be gentle. There was no shoving it down her throat, locking her head in place, or gagging her. No, those were all things she got to choose.

It had surprised Emma to find that Wyatt had a taste. In part, it was the woodsy shower gel she bought him, but there was something else, like ocean air, summer rain, and leather. By now, she recognized it as him. When her tongue circled his tip, she reveled in the groan that rumbled up his chest. Running her tongue along the underside of his length, she focused on his frenulum, licking all the way down the vein before sucking one of his balls into her mouth.

Wyatt's hips jumped on their own, his fingers buried in Emma's honey brown hair. His little bird was a damn professional when it came to giving the best head of his life—or death as it were. When she decided to give it a try after years of abuse, he had been hesitant, but after a few minutes, her enthusiasm eased his tension. That first time he had dipped his fingers between her legs and found her soaked. When Emma chose to take him in her mouth, he never hesitated again.

She brought him to the cusp of climax, savoring his grunts and moans, and then holding him steady, she dropped right down, fully seating him inside her. Emma had never had sex outside before, and there was something about the moonlight, the sound of the river, and the shadows in the trees that made her even hungrier. Dropping her left leg to the picnic bench, she used it to propel her body up and down with significantly more force.

"Is your leg okay?" Wyatt choked out.

"Yes," she gasped, taking his hands from her hips and sliding them up to cup her breasts.

As he started massaging the plump flesh, Emma leaned back on his thighs and began to roll her body, watching his length disappear between her legs.

"Fuck me," he breathed, forgetting his hands as he stared at her. "I am the luckiest man on this planet."

Emma giggled and dropped her head back to gaze at the sky while she took her fill and brought them both to the edge. Sitting up, she laid over his chest, taking his mouth and changing their position again. They each moaned across the other's lips, the shared climax building and spreading. Wyatt held her tightly to him, thrusting his hips up to meet her, and in the end, their kiss broke apart as each cried out in pleasure. Emma's warmth dripped down Wyatt's balls, and he was instantly ready to go again, but his little bird needed a moment if only to breathe.

"I love you so much, Emma," he said, stroking her hair. "This week I'm going to make sure you never forget me."

Emma wanted to reassure him that was not even possible, but she was much too excited by his promise. And he kept it. For the next six days, they fucked, made love, and played all over the woods, in the river, and on every surface of the Callahan Crew cabin. Emma's back bore scratches from tree bark, the flush of sunburn on skin that never saw daylight, love bites across her chest, phantom tingles from bound wrists and ankles, the memory of wax hearts dripping down her breasts, and a lingering sensation of fullness from being sated like she never had before.