Returning Home

It was no secret that Emmett Bledsoe loved motorcycles. He loved riding them and watching other people ride them, and race them, so when he got the call – or text rather – that a photographer was needed to cover the Denver Motorcross Derby, which just happened to feature riders of all calibers from all fifty states, he couldn't turn it down. But it sucked to be away from Bay.

Being away from Bay always sucked. It didn't matter if it was for a week, a day, an hour. He just always wanted to be near her, to be in her immediate proximity. But there were certain situations where being away was necessary. Like this job. It was a kick-ass paycheck and for something he enjoyed. It would keep them solvent for a while.

Neither Bay nor Emmett would ever want to do anything else with their lives, but they don't call it starving artist for nothing. Not that they were starving. Not even close, but they had a baby who they hoped would want to go to college. And they had a house with a mortgage and cars and other expenses. In other words, they weren't poor, but they weren't Kennish-rich either. So they had to take jobs where they could.

As a freelance photographer Emmett had flexibility. He wasn't tied down to a desk. He could come and go as he pleased. Thankfully Kansas City had a large Deaf community which meant Emmett was in demand a lot of the times for all sorts of events: weddings, birthday parties, school picture days, religious ceremonies. And then there were sporting events like this.

Bay, on the other hand, had a more permanent, stable job. Well, as stable as it could be. She was an adjunct at the local community college where she taught art two days a week. A decent enough paycheck; and she also managed to sell quite a few of her paintings. She also served as a freelance consultant for a local art dealer in KC.

They did well, but well meant they still needed to work.

At least he had managed to setup a few various Valentine's Day surprises for Bay. That made him happy. She would know he loved her even in his absence. Damn, he missed her. Her eyes; her lips; her mouth; her hair. Oh, her hair. Her lascivious, curly, beautiful hair. The way she did that thing he loved. He was so busy thinking about his gorgeously intoxicating wife that he was completely oblivious to what was going on around him, and as a result, totally whacked some poor unsuspecting soul in the head.

Turning around to face whoever it was, he realized it was no stranger. A woman with blond hair stood before him, and he knew her. Robin. Robin Swiller. A big grin appeared and he could tell she recognized him, too.

"Emmett?"

"Hi, Robin."

She gave him a hug and, to be honest, he wasn't sure what to make of that. She wasn't an ex; they had merely hung out for a few days at John's motorcycle show. Truthfully there had been way more interest on Robin's end than on his. At the time they had met he was still in love with Bay and she was the only girl on his mind. She still is the only girl on his mind. Woman rather.

"How have you been?" She asked. "It's been a long time."

He nodded in agreement. "It has. I'm good."

She noticed the gold band around his finger. "Married?"

"Happily," he replied, smiling.

"Bay?"

"How'd you know?"

She shrugged. "It just seemed like there was this electricity between you two."

Emmett couldn't help but laugh at that. "Really?" She was right, but considering how awkward their meeting was it was a surprising observation. "You could tell?"

"You seem surprised."

"I am. I mean, things were just so bad then."

"Well, I'm glad to see they aren't bad now."

"No, they're definitely not bad."

A small part of him chided himself for what he was about to do. He was going to be one of those parents. The "look at my kid!" kind. Oh, well. He took out his phone and scrolled to the most recent picture he had of Dylan.

"Is that your son? He looks just like you!"

Pride struck him. "He does." He paused for a moment. "But he's got a lot of Bay in him." He wanted Robin to know that. Actually, that's completely inaccurate. He needed Robin to know that, to know that Dylan was a combination of him and Bay. Seeing Robin just brought him back to a time when Bay wasn't his, and for that, he resented her a bit. That was monumentally unfair, of course. It wasn't Robin's fault that her mere presence brought him back in time, but it did.

For that reason alone he no longer wanted to stand here exchanging pleasantries. He didn't want to be here at all. Today was the last day of the shoot. The minute – no – the second it was done, he was getting on his motorcycle and not stopping until he reached their driveway. Bay was his forever destination.

"Well, it was nice catching up with you, Robin, but I really gotta go."

She seemed a little hurt that he was being so short, but nodded anyway. "It was nice seeing you, too, Emmett. Say hi to Bay for me."

He wouldn't though. Maybe it was selfish, but anything that could rock their boat of bliss wasn't worth bringing up.

Two hours later he was on his bike, and another ten after that, he arrived home. It was late, too late for Bay to still be up. He entered the house quietly, careful not to wake up his sleeping family and smiled, noticing the hallway light was on. Obviously Bay figured he wouldn't be arriving home at a decent hour.

One more reason to love her.

Well, maybe love wasn't the right word. Worship is more like it. Emmett worshipped Bay. She was his queen. He'd gladly be her servant.

Their bedroom door was a bit ajar and with the help of the light he could make Bay out. When you love someone, there are plenty of ways to feel close to them. Sex, kissing, handholding, telling them you love them, but Emmett felt close to Bay right now, at this very moment. In a way, there was nothing more intimate than standing at the foot of their door watching her sleep. The way her body rose up and down at its own special speed. Emmett would never tell her this as it was a bit embarrassing, and honestly, he liked having this part of Bay that he could keep to himself.

Dating someone is fun, as is getting to experience all those firsts; first kiss, first time, first I love you, but there was something inexplicable about being with someone for such a long time, like he and Bay had been. He knew her, and she knew him. He knew the small smile that appeared when she was dreaming of happy things; he understood what the frowns meant, too.

They had a history. They had a bond.

He knew her as well as he knew himself, maybe even better than he knew himself.

Emmett made his way to Bay's side of the bed and ever so lightly kissed her temple. Her eyes opened slowly and realization of his presence made its way to her face. She smiled.

"Hey, you're back."

He bent down to kiss her properly.

"I am."

She motioned for him to sit on the bed and he complied.

"How was the shoot? Meet any hot biker babes?"

"It was good. And what would I need any of those for. I've got you."

She gave him a playful little punch.

"I missed you."

"I missed you, too."

His eyes went to the nightstand where his journal was.

"You like your gift?"

Bay nodded.

"It was amazing. Beautiful. Sad. Heartbreaking." She furrowed her brow. "I'm sorry, Emmett."

Confusion crept upon his face.

"What are you sorry for?"

"That I put you through all of that."

"Hey. I put myself through that. You didn't do anything wrong. I did."

"But I could have made it easier for you."

"It wasn't your job."

"It is now."

"And you do a great job of it."

He kissed her again.

"Bay, I didn't leave that for you to make you feel guilty. I left that for you so you'd know that pretty much since the day we've met, you've been the only thing on my mind. But there's nothing for you to be sorry for. Not now. Not ever."

She nodded. Then she sat up and started to take his jacket off.

"Well, there is one thing I have to be sorry for," she said as she began kissing his neck, and then his ear.

"And what's that?"

"I feel sorry that nobody will be able to reach us for the next few days."

She smirked and took her cell phone off the nightstand and shut it off.

"Oops," Bay said, feigning innocence, "I don't know what happened. It must have broke. Or that's what we'll have to tell people."

And then she resumed kissing him. Her hands made their way for his shirt. Let's just say he was not resisting. Not in the least.

"And what will be doing, Mrs. Bledsoe?" Emmett asked as he crawled on top of her.

"I can think of a few things."

She winked.

As he kissed his gorgeous wife all he could think was how sweet it was to be home. And there was nowhere else in the world he'd rather be.