Motivation

EMERALD

Tate went to speak to his mother alone the next day because he felt she’d be more likely to say something if it was just him and not me as well.

In the meantime, I decided to stop by Lance’s physical therapy and surprise him.

He was sweating up a storm as he tried to hold himself up on these horizontal bars and get his legs to move while the therapist supported him with the belt around his middle.

His face was turning red with the effort until his arms shook, and the therapist moved the wheelchair up to him just in time to catch him as he slumped down.

“This is useless, Stevens,” he huffed out.

“It may not seem like it right now, but you are making progress.” The therapist chuckled.

“Then why aren’t they moving, hm?” Lance growled. “This isn’t working.”

“Neither is your attitude, jackass,” I said as I came to lean my arms on the bars. “What did Dad always say?”

“I’m pretty sure he wasn’t talking about this.” He gestured angrily to his legs.

“What did he used to tell us, Lance?” I insisted.

“Everything worth doing is going to make you want to quit.” He sighed.

“That’s right. He said that it was going to be hard sometimes and that things would try to break us, and it was up to us to figure out if we let them or not,” I said and pointed to his legs.

“Is this going to be what breaks you, big brother? Sleepy legs? Really?”

“Fuck you, Emma.” He glared at me. “This isn’t like I sat on my foot for too long.”

“You certainly have been on your ass long enough. What happened to that ‘can’t stop’ attitude that got you in the Marines? Since when does Lance freaking Wells quit?”

“I’m not fucking quitting!” he shouted.

“Prove it.” I stood up and tapped my hand on the bars. “Get off your ass and tell your legs to move. ~Make~ them do it, Lance. It’s your body. You’re in charge, so prove it.”

He hauled himself out of the chair, and I ducked under the bars and moved it back as the therapist supported him again.

A lot of grunting and huffing happened, and enough sweat to make a sauna regret its life choices before two tiny, toe-dragging steps had been taken.

Lance was puffing in the chair as I hugged his neck from behind.

“I knew you had it in you.” I kissed his sweaty cheek.

“You could have been less of an ass about it,” he grunted out.

“Nah. If I tried to baby you, it would take longer, and you, good sir, have a deadline to make.” I wheeled him off to the side and sat in a chair.

“I’m not dancing with you at your wedding, Emma, even if I could.” He gave me a look and opened his water bottle.

“Oh god, no.” I made a horrified look. “I like my feet not broken, thanks. Besides, we’re getting married in about a month, so I don’t see that being a possibility anyhow. You will wheel me down the aisle, though, jackass.”

“What? Why so soon?” Lance asked.

“Well, we’ve been together for a while now, just not officially.” I shrugged. “I’m sure he’s my person, and he’s convinced he’s lucky to have me, so why wait?”

“Don’t weddings take time to plan and shit?”

“The big ones do, but I don’t have a lot of people, you know? You, Mom, and Macy are all I have, so it’s kind of insane to have a huge wedding.

“Plus, Tate doesn’t really want a bunch of people trying to talk business to him all day.”

“That’s good.” He nodded. “For some reason, I never could see you doing the big wedding bridezilla thing. So, if not the wedding, when is my deadline?”

“What’s it to you?” I smirked.

“So I can crush it, of course.” He rolled his eyes.

“Minimum? Seven months, but I’d be willing to accept ten.”

“Emma.” He looked at me.

“Yes, Uncle Lance?”

“No. Shut up.” His eyes went wide. “This is a joke, right?”

“Nope.” I pulled up the shot of the sonogram I had taken on my phone. “I’m actually kind of freaked out still.”

“~You’re~ freaked out? ~I’m~ freaked out! I’m an uncle?” He snatched my phone and zoomed in. “So teeny.”

“Why are you freaked out?” I laughed, shaking my head. “It’s not like you’re the one growing a tiny human then pushing it out of your vag—”

“Gross! Emma! I don’t need to hear anything about ~that~, much less from you!” He practically threw my phone back to me. We stared at each other for a second before he pointed at me. “Don’t.”

“Vagina!” I blurted out, and he cringed. “Shockingly, Lance, they aren’t that scary, you know.”

“I know that.” He gave me a flat look that was not very amused. “I’ve been around more than a few, but there’s a difference between every other one and the one that belongs to my sister. Disgusting.”

“Hey!” I laughed and pushed him backward so he had to catch his wheels and move forward again.

“Have you told Mom yet?”

“No. Tate wanted to tell you and Mom together, but you seemed like you needed the motivation more,” I answered, gestering around us.

“I know you know it, but this isn’t going to happen overnight. You’re going to have to put a lot of work into getting your body right again.”

“Yeah, I know.” He sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. “I just… It doesn’t feel right.”

“Well, no, because it isn’t right. Something bad happened, and we have to fix it.” I chuckled.

“‘We,’ huh?” he asked with a smirk. “You’re not the one dragging half of yourself around as dead weight.”

“I’m growing ~life~, fucker.” I pointed at him. “Besides, I’ve always been your biggest cheerleader. Just because we’re adults and you clearly don’t play sports anymore—”

“Dick move, Em.” He glared playfully.

“—doesn’t mean that’s changed any,” I finished with an innocent smile.

“You have shit coordination, Em. You know that, right?”

“I’m not picking up pompoms and doing flips, prick.” I rolled my eyes.

“You better not.” He pointed at my stomach. “You need to start eating healthy. Do you have any idea what’s in most of the shit we eat?”

“You almost sound like Tate.” I laughed. “And what do you eat for breakfast again?”

We talked for a moment more before the therapist came over, and they got back to work, and I went back to the penthouse.

The more I thought about this baby, the less I liked this place, and I didn’t really like it that much to begin with.

And I really didn’t like it with a huge box in the living room.

“Tate?” I called and went to check if maybe he was in the shower but found the place empty. Just me and this box. And I mean box, like wooden crate.

I looked for the delivery details as I called Tate, getting his voicemail.

“Weird.” I frowned, not finding anything about what it was or where it came from. Then I called Vince.

“Emma?” he answered.

“There’s a huge box in the living room. Any ideas as to what the heck it is?” I asked.

“Open it. Knowing Tate, it could be literally everything you need for a baby,” he answered.

“I don’t have a crowbar.” I tapped on the side. “Sounds empty, I think?”

“What do you mean by crowbar?”

“It’s a giant wooden box. Well, maybe not giant, but it’s certainly big enough to make me wonder how in the heck they got it in here.

“Yuri didn’t say anything about it just now.” I frowned. “There’s no delivery info at all, either.”

“Weird,” he said as I heard the elevator chime.

“Ah. Tate’s back. I’ll ask him,” I said and hung up, tilting my head at the box again.

“I swear, Tate, if you went off with the crazy train and did something completely impractical, we’re going to have to discuss your shopping limits.”

“Sorry, love,” came the thick British accent just as a cloth went over my mouth and nose.

TATE

“Someone’s at the penthouse,” Vince said, hanging up his phone, and I put my dead one back in my pocket. “She thinks it’s you.”

“It’s probably Devon.” I nodded.

“And there’s a wooden crate in your living room.” He frowned at his phone. “Why is that giving me a red flag?”

“That is kind of weird. I didn’t order anything.” I frowned at his phone, too. “At least not something that would come in a wooden crate. Where did it come from?”

“She said there wasn’t anything on it. Wait, what did you order?” he asked.

“I got her a new pair of slippers.” I smiled. “Angry bunny slippers.”

“Okay, that’s both adorable and sad, man. I lost you to domestication way faster than I thought I would.” He shook his head.

“Whatever.” I rolled my eyes. “Hey, my phone is dead. Can I borrow a charger? And a beer?”

“You never let that thing get a low battery,” he accused me as he pointed out where his charger was by the couch.

“I couldn’t help it,” I muttered. “I kept looking at the picture I took of the ultrasound.”

“Sap. So, how are you adjusting to the news? No more grocery mishaps?”

“No.” I laughed and sat down to plug my phone in and get it turned back on. “I’m freaked out, truthfully, but Emerald is sure I won’t fuck up, so that counts for something, right?”

“The fact that you know you got fucked-up means you’re probably not going to do the same things that made you this way,” he said, handing me a beer. “She wouldn’t let you either, so it’s a moot point, really.”

I smiled and took a sip.

“This suits you,” Vince said after a second. “You seem more like the version of you that you always should have been.”

“All my life, I wanted something. I still don’t know what it was, but it seems so…irrelevant now.” I shook my head. “All of it.”

“What do you mean?” Vince frowned, sitting on the other end of the couch.

“I’ve been thinking about it a lot since Emerald told me she was pregnant. None of the things that got me out of bed in the morning last year feel important to me anymore,” I admitted.

“I’ve been out of the office more often than I’m in it the past two months, and I feel…free.

“Instead of thinking about new investments, I’m thinking about what Emerald might have made for dinner or what kind of dog we should get.”

“Domestication.” He nodded. “It changes you.”

“I used to think that this future I’m seeing in front of me was the worst thing that could happen, but it’s not.” I laughed at my own stupidity.

“Being behind that desk for the rest of my life with nothing to show for it? That would be the worst thing to happen, and now I know the truth of it.”

“So, what does that mean?” he asked me slowly. “Are you walking away from the business you’re trying to keep from Leo?”

“I’m not sure yet,” I admitted again. “I just know that spending twelve hours a day, six days of the week working isn’t how I want my life to go anymore. Not with Emerald and certainly not with a child on the way.”

“What would you even ~do~ if you walked away from it?” he asked.

“I don’t know.” I shrugged. “I’m literally worth millions, Vince. I wouldn’t have to ~do~ anything. Not for a while, anyhow.”

“Fair. Have you talked to Emma about this?” he asked me.

“Not yet.” I scratched my chin. “I’m not even sure what I’m going to do, so it’s not worth bringing up yet.”

“You know she has this way of looking at things from all angles, right?” He gave me a look.

“If anyone can help you figure it out, it’s her. Besides, she kind of has a right to know what you see for the family the two of you are making together, even if you aren’t sure about it yet.”

“I guess I just want to figure it out a little more before I tell her. She’s got a lot happening right now, you know? Her mom, her brother, the wedding, the baby.

“I kind of feel like shit that it’s all on her. I mean, even this bullshit with Leo is on her more than it is us.”

“I say this with a very healthy amount of fear; that woman is fucking terrifying. I would never, ~ever~ want to see her as an opponent in anything. God help the world of chess if she decides to play professionally.”

“She’d tear it apart in three moves.” I laughed as my phone chimed with a new message.

“Then she’d point out how it ~should~ have been then, make it happen,” he agreed with a chuckle.

I opened the message, and it took a few seconds for me to register what it was that I was seeing, kind of like when you pass a really bad wreck on the highway. When it finally clicked, I saw nothing at all. Just red.

Fear and anger and this crushing helplessness that felt like it was ripping my guts out was the only thing I knew until I caught a fist to the jaw.

I came out of it pinned to the sidewalk by Vince’s arm on my throat and both of us breathing hard.

“Are you back?” he asked me, his lip bleeding and a bruise on his face. “I’ll fucking hit you again; otherwise, nod.”

I nodded, and he let up on his pressure and looked at me for a second before flopping to the sidewalk beside me.

“I have to find her. I have to get her back.” I sobbed as the image of Emerald passed out in the bottom of a crate flashed in my mind. “I have to…”

“I know. We’ll find them.” Vince panted and slapped his hand on my chest. “We’ll get them both back, Tate.”