She’s fucking here.
7
EMMA
It’s him.
Standing across the room with a beer in his hand and his eyes locked on mine like I’m the only person in this entire packed bar.
Bones.
My heart does something stupid in my chest—a skip, a stutter, a complete betrayal of the calm, collected façade I’ve been trying to maintain since I made the decision to come back to Stoneheart.
The smell of the place fills my lungs. The leather, the beer, something smoky from the kitchen. My shoulders drop without permission. Like my body remembers something I’d almost forgotten.
Six months. It’s been six months since I’ve seen him in person, and somehow I’d convinced myself the distance would have dulled the intensity. That the physical space between New York and here would have created emotional space too.
I was wrong.
So fucking wrong.
Because looking at him now, with his dark hair slightly longer than it was, his jaw shadowed with stubble, his leather cut sitting on broader shoulders—has he gotten bigger? Jesus, he’s gotten bigger—every lie I told myself crumbles. Every affirmation I uttered to convince myself I’m OK on my own? Gone.
God, I’ve missed him.
I’ve missed him so much it physically hurts.
Six months of pretending I’m fine. Six months of going through the motions—rehearsals, performances, teaching classes, living my routine-based New York life. Six months of lying in bed at night and wishing he was next to me.
Because the truth is, my life since going back to New York has felt . . . hollow. Like I’m performing even when I’m not on stage. Going through choreography I’ve perfected but feeling nothing. Teaching students who look at me with admiration while I feel like a fraud.
And every night when I try to fall asleep, all I can do is touch the empty space beside me, knowing in my heart that I left part of myself in that motel room in North Carolina. With him.
I’ve been trying to function without that missing piece ever since.
Bones sets his beer down on a nearby table, never breaking eye contact. He takes a step toward me, then another, and I see the exact moment he decides to cross the room. See the determination in his eyes, the slight hitch in his breath even from this distance.
I take a step forward too, because fuck it, we’re here now and I’d be lying if I said he isn’t the reason I’m here?—
“YOU MADE IT!”
Kya barrels into me like a blonde tornado, wrapping her arms around me in a hug so tight I lose my breath. I hug her back automatically, but my eyes are still tracking Bones over her shoulder.
He’s stopped. Standing there in the middle of the room, watching us. Waiting.
“Oh my god, I can’t believe you’re here!” Kya pulls back, hands on my shoulders, grinning like I’ve just given her the best present ever. “You didn’t tell me you were coming! How long are you staying? Where are you staying? Please tell me you’re staying at your dad’s or the club and not some shitty motel?—”
“Kya, breathe,” I say, laughing despite my distraction.
“STONE! LEE! EMMA’S HERE!”
Suddenly I’m surrounded. Lee’s pulling me into a hug that lifts me off my feet. Maggie’s there, then Ginger, and what feels like half the club. Everyone’s talking at once, asking questions, welcoming me back, telling me how great I look.
I lose sight of Bones completely.
“When did you get in?” Lee asks, still holding me at arm’s length like he needs to confirm I’m real.
“Just now. Drove straight through.”
