“You’re such an ass,” she snaps in return. A slight smile tugs at her mouth, but she quickly forces it away, thinking I don’t notice.
We’re standing close now, the firelight casting a red-yellow glow over her face, making the irritation in her eyes burn even brighter. She looks like she wants to launch me into the flames and I wouldn’t put it past her to actually do it. My brain instinctively decides to zero in on her lips. They are perfectly full and parted, still slightly chapped from the cold.
I’m so fucking mad at myself for noticing.
Emma made it pretty damn clear when she left Windhaven that what we had wasn’t real, and that I didn’t matter enough to her to make her stay. I don’t know what I thought was going to happen when I saw her again. Some part of me, the stupid, hopeful, and desperate part, thought that maybe she’d see me and forget how bad things ended between us. That we could simply start over. A clean slate. Or maybe two people in love despite the universe trying to tear them apart. But that’s not how this works, not with her. She doesn’t forget things. If Emiliana Diaz is anything, it’s the queen of holding grudges. And the thing that pisses me off the most? Iknowbetter, and I still manage to find my way next to her again. I am habitually orbiting her like I physically don’t know how to stop.
She’s going on and on about something, and I’m not sure when I stopped paying attention. All I can do is stare at thosegorgeous pink lips and think about how her kisses used to taste like strawberries. She never went anywhere without a tube of strawberry scented lip gloss.
I wonder if they still taste like that.
I attempt to reel myself back to Earth, trying to focus on what she’s been saying for the past seven minutes. I can tell by the look she’s giving me, with those tired, yet piercing brown eyes, that it’s either something to try and get under my skin or cause another argument.
“Why are you doing this?” I interrupt, suddenly irritated.
She blinks, as if I caught her off guard. “Doing what?”
“Trying to pick a fight with me.”
Her chin lifts stubbornly. “Oh,I’mpicking a fight withyou?”
“Yeah. You are.” I take a step closer, our bodies now barely inches away from each other. She doesn’t move back. “Are you going to do that every time we’re in the same room? It’s as if youwantme to argue with you. Maybe you enjoy it. Tell me, Princess, does it turn you on?”
Her lips part, and I catch the way her breath hitches enough for me to hear it.
“You—” she starts, then stops. Her throat tries to work around whatever comeback she’s about to throw at me.
The room feels warmer now. I don’t know if it’s from the fire or the tension hanging in the air between us. I’m overwhelmed with the feeling that I’m either going to suffocate or make a huge mistake if I stay any longer.
I watch her lick her lips, a quick flick of her tongue, barely noticeable. Her chest rises and falls slowly. The only sound filling the house is the crackling of the wood and our breathing.
I really,reallyneed to get out of here.
“Bye, Em,” I mutter, turning and making my way towards the front door.
She glares at me. “Oh,nowyou’re leaving?”
“Yeah. Before I say or do something I’ll regret.”
Her eyes narrow. “What do you mean?”
I don’t answer. I’m already barely holding onto the last of my self control as it is. If I answer her, I really won’t be able to leave this house andthatwould be a problem. So instead, I’m out the front door in three strides and don’t look back, leaving her standing there confused.
As I climb into the truck, a bitter laugh escapes me, reminding me how similar the situation is to when she left me all those years ago—walking away from me and never looking back, exactly what I just did.
7
EMMA
The stack of firewood next to the hearth is neatly arranged. Alex stacked it that way, annoyingly perfect. The man has always been infuriatingly good with his hands and even better at worming his way into places he doesn’t belong. Right now is a perfect example as I can’t seem to get him out of my head.
I shift, pulling my knees up to my chest, resting my chin on top of them. My legs are dusted with ash and my knuckles are still pink from brushing against rough bark and stone. Under all the crackling firelight and creeping exhaustion, there’s a feeling I don’t want to admit out loud.
I’ve missed him.
I hate that I’ve missed him
His eyes looked into mine as if saying, “I know you, Emiliana. Better than you want me to. Better than anyone else. You can pretend all you want but I stillseeyou.”
