That’s what I’m afraid of.
Because this Jared… I don’t think I’ll be able to let him go.
63
Jared
Iwake up to a sleeping Emmy curled up against my chest.
I knew I should have slept on the damn couch.
Her breathing is still a little harsh, a little forced. Her lips press against my chest, little huffs of air heating my skin under my t-shirt. She’s wrapped around me like a ribbon on a Christmas gift, her leg slung over my hips.
And her hand isundermy shirt, pressed against my heart.
It starts to pump harder as I stare down at her bruised face. My head thumps back into the pillow as I stare at the ceiling.
You are completely and utterly fucked.
I don’t move. Hell, I try not tobreathe.
She’s a perfect fit. The lump in my throat grows.
I could wake up like this every morning. The feeling only grows as she starts to stir.
Emmy Marsters is not a morning person. At least, not this morning. I get to hear her grumble against my chest for at leastten minutes about the light coming through the closed curtains. She burrows her head into me before she flinches. “Ow.”
“Easy.” She blinks up at me, all blue eyes and wild curls and thosefuckingmarks he put on her skin.
My whole body tenses.
Em flushes. She pulls herself up, almost rolling off thefar-too-fucking-smallbed. “I’m so sorry.”
“Careful.” I grab her before she topples, and we both pause. “How’d you sleep?”
She sinks her teeth into her lower lip before she responds meekly. “Fine? You were very comfortable.”
She’s going to kill me. Groaning, I pull away and climb out of bed. “Breakfast.”
64
Emmy
Idon’t think either of us are entirely sure what this is anymore.
“It’s definitely fading.” Jared hands me a clean towel from the washing he insisted on doing as I wash my face. “And your eyes are clearing up.”
I blink at myself in the bathroom mirror, assessing. The whites of my eyes are still more pink than anything else. But he’s right. The marks around my neck are much lighter than they were.
The memories don’t fade quite as quickly.
A thud sounds behind me, and I flinch back. My brass toilet paper stand tips over, sending paper rolling across the room. “Sorry.”
Silence. “You’re okay, Em.”
His voice is gentle.
I nod, staring down at the floor. “This isn’t my first rodeo.”
