“In a heartbeat.”
“Emma—”
“I mean it.” She tilts her head back to look up at me. “I’m not losing this, Bones. And if you ever bail on me again—even if you think you’re saving me, or protecting me, or sparing me pain, orwhatever—you’ll be the one waking up with a knife in your back. And not in the fun way.”
“There’s a fun way to get knifed in the back?”
She rolls her eyes. “You know what I mean.”
I grin down at her, palms bracketing her jaw so she can’t look away from me. “I do. But just so we’re clear, if you so much as jaywalk without me by your side, I will put you over my knee.”
She snorts and flicks my chest. “Promises, promises.”
I kiss the tip of her nose. “I love you, swan.”
“I love you too.”
We stand there for a moment, just breathing together, and then Emma wrinkles her nose.
“Are those waffles burning?”
“A little.” I release her and grab the waffles from the toaster. They’re black around the edges but salvageable. “Breakfast is served.”
14
EMMA
Three weeks in Stoneheart and I’m starting to remember why I loved this place before I learned to resent it.
Devil’s Bar at noon on a Thursday has a completely different energy than the weekend chaos. The lunch crowd is mostly locals—construction workers, shop owners, a few club members who drift in and out throughout the day. Kya’s behind the bar, and the kitchen smells amazing, which means Miguel is working his magic back there.
I’m tucked into a booth with my own construction worker on his break, Bones’s thigh pressing against mine under the table while he demolishes a burger. Across from us, Mercy and Cash are debating paint colors for their new house.
“I’m just saying, gray is safe,” Cash argues, stealing one of Mercy’s fries. “You can’t go wrong with gray.”
“Gray is boring,” Mercy counters, slapping his hand away. “We’re not living in a boring house just because you’re scared of color.”
“I’m not scared of color. I just don’t want to live in a house that looks like a highlighter threw up on it.”
“Forest green is not a highlighter color, you dramatic ass.”
I bite back a smile, taking a sip of my iced tea. It’s weirdly comforting, watching them bicker like an old married couple even though they’ve only been together for something like eight months. But from what I understand, they were quite close in the year before that.
“What do you think, Emma?” Mercy turns to me. “Forest green accent wall in the living room—too much?”
“I think it sounds beautiful,” I say honestly. “Bold choices make a house feel like a home.”
“See?” Mercy points triumphantly. “Emma gets it.”
“Emma’s also a dancer who wears pink tutus for a living,” Cash deadpans. “Her definition of ‘too much’ is probably different from normal people.”
“I resent that,” I say, but I’m laughing. “And for the record, I haven’t worn a tutu since Swan Lake three years ago. And it was white.”
“Still counts.”
Bones shifts a little closer to me—as if practically sitting on top of each other isn’t close enough—and when I glance at him, he’s got that soft look in his eyes, the one that says he’s happy just watching me exist. It still makes my stomach flip.
“Speaking of ballet,” Mercy says, putting her paint samples on the table. “What’s happening with that? Are you just on sabbatical for a while? Or are you planning on staying?”
