I stand and she gives me a wobbly smile.
“It’s okay, Declan. Really.” Her voice is steadier than her expression. “I can’t have kids. So, it’s fine.” She lifts her gaze to mine. “And I trust you.”
That last sentence hits harder than a fist to the ribs.I trust you.
The rest of her words sink in.
I open my mouth to say…something.But she cuts me off with a quick, practiced shrug and a flat voice. “Found out at sixteen. Everything works.” She lifts her chin as if asking me to confirm. “I just can’t…make babies.”
For a second, I can’t think of a single response. Every automatic line—I’m sorry, that must’ve been hard—feels like an insult. She doesn’t need my pity.
So, I brush my knuckles against her cheek. “You don’t owe me an explanation, Em.” My voice comes out rougher than I mean it to. “I just want to make sure you’re okay.”
“I’m okay,” she says with forced cheerfulness. “Are you?” Her gaze skips away and pink blooms over her cheeks up to her hairline. “Despitethat, I’ve never, um, been with someone without a condom. And my tests are always good too.”
A wild spike of possessiveness heats my blood atbeen with someone. She’s trying to have a calm, grown-up conversation, and I’m standing here like a primitive creature ready to pound my chest and snarlmine, mine mine.
I drag in a breath, counting back from ten until my brain unscrambles enough to speak. Underneath her words, I sense she needs reassurance. Didsomeonein her past belittle her when she shared this? Telling her I’ve never wanted kids seems selfish and way too convenient. Like I’m lying to make her feel better or downplaying something that obviously still cuts her deeply.
She deserves better than some half-assed platitude, so I pull her into my chest instead, wrapping my arms around her until her cheek presses against my skin. Her body’s stiff at first, like she’s bracing for judgment. The mark on her arm brushes my side, warm and pulsing—another reminder of how I’ve screwed up.
“Em.” I tip her chin up with two fingers. “Look at me.”
She slowly lifts her gaze.
“As long as you’re okay,” I say. “That’s my only concern.”
Her throat bobs. “You’re sure?”
“Yeah. I’m sure.” I grasp her shoulders and turn her toward the hallway. “Let’s go back to bed.”
Her shoulders shake with laughter. “Give me a second, stud.”
She slips out of my grasp and back into the bathroom, closing the door behind her.
Waiting outside the door like an eager puppy is probably a step too far. I retreat to the bedroom, stoke the fire, slip on a pair of shorts, and search through my drawers for a shirt Emery can sleep in.
“Hey,” she says softly, stepping into the bedroom. “I feel weird walking around your apartment naked.”
Laughing, I hold out a faded black T-shirt. “Personally, I’m a big fan of your naked body. But if you want something to sleep in…”
“Sleep in, huh?” She snatches the shirt from my hands but doesn’t put it on. “You want me to stay?”
Vulnerability lurks under the question. Was she expecting me to kick her out? “I’ll be insulted if you don’t.”
“Okay.”
I need to be much closer to her. Crossing the distance, I push her toward the bed, settling us both under the covers. She arranges herself the way we were before—her head on the uninked side of my chest, breasts pressed to my side, legs entwined. Her hand teases the waistband of my shorts.
“We need to talk about something.” Her voice seems to be aiming for serious but missing the mark.
“What’s that?” I sneak my free hand closer and cup her breast, rolling her nipple between two fingers.
Her lashes flutter. “No fair, I had something to say.”
“So say it.” I rub my thumb against the hard tip.
“When…why did you do this?” She slips her hand under my shorts and grazes the first piercing.
