Finally, after what seemed like hours but was probably only minutes, her breathing steadied. The sobs quieted to hiccups. Her grip on my shoulders relaxed completely.
Then she went rigid.
I felt the exact moment awareness came back to her. The way her spine straightened, her muscles tensed, her breath caught. She pulled back slightly and I loosened my hold immediately, not wanting to trap her.
“Oh... oh fuck.” Her voice was wrecked, barely above a whisper. She scrambled to her feet, stumbling slightly, not looking at me. “I’m sorry. I’m so... I didn’t mean to...”
“Emily, wait.”
But she was already moving, practically running toward her back door. She didn’t look back. Didn’t slow down. Just disappeared inside and slammed the door shut behind her.
I stayed there on my ass in the grass, my hands empty, my shirt wet with her tears, staring at the closed door and trying to figure out what the hell had just happened.
My heart was still racing, adrenaline still flooding my system. The feel of her in my arms, shaking and broken, was burned into my memory.
Every cell in my body was screaming at me to go to her, to make sure she wasn’t collapsing on her kitchen floor right now.
I pushed myself to my feet, my boots heavy as I took a step towards her house.
Then I stopped.
She hadn’t just pulled away from me. She’d fled.
She definitely didn’t want me there.
My jaw clenched until my teeth ached as I forced myself to walk across the yard, through the gate, back to my own property
I looked down at my shirt. Tear stains and probably snot. Grass stains on my knees. I should change before the girls got home. Should get to the hedge trimming and the flower beds and the normal afternoon I’d planned.
But I couldn’t stop seeing her face when that door opened. The way she’d looked at me without really seeing me, her eyes unfocused and terrified.
Whatever had just happened, it was bad. Really bad. What the fuck was I supposed to do now?
EMILY
Imade it to the bathroom on autopilot, my hands fumbling with buttons and zippers. The shower took three tries to get the temperature right because my fingers wouldn’t cooperate, but finally hot water poured from the showerhead.
The stinging heat hit my skin and something in my chest loosened. Just a fraction. Just enough that I could pull in a full breath without feeling like I was drowning.
I stood there, letting the water beat down on my shoulders, my back, my face. Washing away the tears and the snot and the humiliation. The nausea that had been churning in my stomach since that shed door had slammed shut finally started to ease.
My mind was still spinning, but slower now. Less frantic. The violent shaking had stopped at some point in Cam’s arms; the crying had tapered off to hiccups and then nothing. My throat felt raw and I could feel a headache brewing, but now it was just... quiet. Too quiet. The kind of quiet where thoughts started creeping back in.
Thoughts about what had just happened.
About how I’d completely fallen apart in front of my neighbor.
Oh god. He must think I was completely unhinged. And he’d be right. I was a fucking loon.
But he didn’t push you away.
I straightened, water streaming down my face.
He hadn’t pushed me away. Hadn’t told me to get it together. Hadn’t acted like I was crazy or dramatic or too much.
He’d just... held me.
The memory of it washed over me now that I was calm enough to process it. The way his arms had come around me without hesitation. How one hand had moved in slow circles on my back while the other had cupped my head, fingers tangling in my hair. The low rumble of his voice telling me to breathe, telling me I was okay, telling me he had me.
