Wreckless ( Ddlb ) *Complete*

On the way

Emmett:

Sunday morning, after he rides me like the pony express, I tell Finn that I want to go to Peter's but he hems and haws and tells me he'll decide after mass. Now he's making me pancakes. Pancakes. He's even making a fresh blueberry syrup. I'm sitting at the table and he's in the kitchen which is a bit unusual but he's made himself at home the past few days. That's fine by me but I feel sort of lazy letting him do it today since I feel so much better. I don't even have a stupid wrap on my head anymore, I lost that Friday night and I've been using a butterfly bandage. I'm getting spoiled and tell him so.

"You are not. You're getting back some of what you do for me every day." He comes over and runs his fingers through my hair. "Feels good, doesn't it? Just relax and let me take care of you for once."

"You've been taking care of me for days, darling, and I'm fine." But yeah, it did feel nice. Does. I admit it. I'm glad he thinks I take good care of him because I really do try. "Did I tell you about them shaving my hair?"

He spins, spatula in hand. "No, but they obviously didn't."

"Oh, this is a wig." He doesn't buy it for a second. "No, the EMT told me that if I needed stitches, and he was sure I would, that they'd shave it. Luckily they used the glue. I'd already been in a wreck, I didn't need that stress too!"

"Poor Em, it was a very hard morning for you" he teases. I stick my tongue out at him and make a face.  "But I'm glad you didn't lose your locks, Mr. Locke."  Okay, that's funny.

The pancakes are delicious and afterwards he gets dressed up and heads out. I get a shower and then decide to go online and look at houses because having those two cars parked outside is a recipe for disaster. Mrs. Lewis tries but there's only so much she can do. Nothing. Nada. Hopefully we'll get lucky next weekend because it needs to happen soon. One, he's still taking those stupid pills to sleep. Two, the new cars. Three, I hate being in limbo. The decision has been made and I'd rather be moved already. There was way too much 'hurry up and wait' in the Army.

He comes home, strips out of his dress shirt and slacks and declares that "It's hot out there!"

"Which is why we should be in a pool." Then I realize that he probably needs to work; he's lost so much time because of me. Well, the moron who hit me. "But if you have to work, that's fine."

"I actually don't but I'm not sure sun and chlorine is going to be good for you."

I walk over and put my hands on his shoulders. "Darling, I'm a big boy. I won't swim for hours, no, and I will stay in the shade for some of the day but I'm not as pale as you are, either. I will be fine."

"I haven't seen Tristan in awhile."

That's it, I'm gonna win. "It's not that far, we can go for an hour or two and I'm sure Tristan would love to see you."

"Okay, let me call him real quick. He said it didn't matter either way but I want to let him know."

"Of course. I'll pack our stuff."

Fifteen minutes later we're in the car and heading up 695 but don't make it very far. It's a mess near route 40 and I tell him "I know a back way, get off here, go west." It's probably backed up at 70 and we can just take Rolling road. Our new, fancy GPS however has a different plan and I just shrug and tell him to follow the computer. We can't get that lost, I know my way around here and I'm curious.

"It's pretty around here" he says as we turn off of Rolling and onto a little side road. We pass a park, take a left and then onto a road with houses worthy of the title 'pretty'. The past road was cute, post-war capes and the sort of thing I grew up in. But these? These are nice although certainly not mansions. He slams on the brakes. Slams so hard that I grab the handle and put one hand on the dash. "Look!" There's nothing. "Back there!" He points and I turn halfway around in my seat.

A woman is putting up a sign. It's a for-sale sign. And the house, wow. "Looks nice."

"And it has a garage, I think that's the side of it. I'm going to see if it's online." He sticks his tongue out, just the tip, while he's searching and it's adorable. I'm tempted to poke it but I resist. "I can't find it."

"May not be listed yet, maybe tomorrow. We can write down the address and check."

"Or I can go ask her right now." He backs up and pulls into the driveway. This boy is bold. As soon as she straightens up I know she's the realtor because her picture is on the sign. Ann Stowers. Alrighty. "Ann?" Seriously? He goes in with the first name?

"Yes?"

"Is it on the market yet?"

"Officially not until tomorrow. If you're interested, I have a spec sheet." She pulls a paper out of her bag and hands it to Finn.

He leans over so we can both see it and the details seem right. It even has some pictures. "It's empty?" he asks.

"Yes."

"I'd like to see it right now." He's not asking, he's telling. Damn, go business Finnegan. My man the VP.

She looks at us, at the brand new expensive car, and at the fact that he's blocking her in and doesn't seem to be willing to leave. "Sure, come on in. I don't have long."

"It won't take long."