It looked like a heck of a lot more than that. Jen slipped a hand beneath his elbow and guided him to a chair. “Forgive me for saying so,” she said carefully, “but you look ill. We should get you to a doctor.”
Grimly, Emmett shook his head again.
“At least call Matt.”
“Absolutely not,” he thundered, mopping his forehead once again. “Matt is the last person you should tell.”
Well, something wasn’t right. Emmett’s left leg was trembling, while his right seemed perfectly fine. As were his hands. Which, Jen recalled, was the opposite of what had been going on this morning. Then, one of his hands had been trembling, and his legs had been fine.
She pulled up a chair and sat facing him, clasping his hands. “You want to tell me what’s going on?” She waited for him to look her in the eye. “And don’t give me the hangover business again, because I know one when I see one and this is not it.”
His shoulders slumped in defeat. “You’re right. It isn’t.”
The raw emotion in his voice frightened her. Jen gripped his hands more tightly. “Then what is it?” she asked, trying not to sound upset.
Emmett swallowed. Moisture glistened in his faded blue eyes. “Parkinson’s, most likely.”
What did he mean, most likely? “Have you seen a doctor?” Jen asked quietly.
“No.” He mopped his forehead again, then he stared at her with steely determination. “And I’m not going to, either. Matt and I spent years watching his mother deteriorate, bit by bit. I’m not about to make the rest of my son’s life about being my nursemaid. And that’s what it would turn into. We both know that.”
Jen couldn’t argue. Matt was very protective of his dad.
But what if it wasn’t Parkinson’s disease? What if it was something else? What if early treatment might make all the difference in the prognosis?
“Matt’s going to notice your symptoms,” Jen warned.
“No. He’s not. And you know why? Because he doesn’t want to see them.” The rancher sighed. “I understand that. I didn’t see Margarite’s infirmities, either, when she first got sick, because I couldn’t bear the thought of anything really being wrong with her. So I convinced myself that she was just tired, or coming down with a cold, or getting over a virus. Anything and everything but what was really happening.”
Jen knew what he meant. “I did the same thing when my dad was in the last stages of liver failure.” Her voice cracked. “I—I couldn’t admit to myself that he was…”
“Dying?”
She nodded, then fell silent. Memories overwhelmed her and tears pricked her eyes.
Emmett reached out and patted her arm. For a moment the two of them sat in silence, comforting each other.
“Besides,” he said eventually, “I take great pains to avoid Matt on those days that are really bad.”
She bit her lip. “You don’t think he’ll get suspicious?”
Emmett shrugged, still confiding in her as naturally as if she were family. “For a while, he thought I was seeing a woman.”
Matt had thought it might be Jen. At least that first day when he’d come to see her in her Austin studio…
“I’ve shared this with you in the strictest confidence,” Emmett continued sincerely. “You are not to tell Matt any of it. And I need you to swear on all you hold dear that you will keep quiet.”
Jen knew what an important first step this was. The big, brash, larger-than-life Texas rancher had admitted to her he was ill. He was trusting her to help him. And she would.
“Yes. I promise,” she said quietly, meaning it with all her heart.
Emmett’s leg trembled harder. Jen put her hand on his knee to stop the involuntary shaking. “I won’t tell anyone,” she reiterated, applying gentle pressure. “Not until you—”
She was about to say “change your mind and give me the okay,” when Emmett’s head jerked up.
The rancher looked past her, flushed guiltily and pushed her hand off his leg.
The hair on the back of her neck prickling, Jen turned in the direction of his gaze and encountered the person she least wanted to see.
Standing in the doorway, looking angry as hell, was the man she had made wild, passionate love with just a few hours before.
Matt Briscoe stomped in.
“Won’t tell anyone what?” he demanded.
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