Page 50 of The Emma Special

She folded her arms over her stomach. “It’s fine.”

His right foot leaned on the brake. “Would you rather I took you home?”

Her nose scrunched, and she turned to him. “Yeah.” She stuck out her bottom lip. “I don’t think I’m going to be any fun tonight.”

James took the next turn. “I hate that you’re hurting. Is there anything I can do?”

She rubbed a hand over her knee. “No, but thanks for asking. I’ll hang out with the couch and some ice. Don’t worry. I’ll be dancing a jig in the morning.”

Swallowing hard, James took another turn onto her street. “I don’t think you should be pushing through. It won’t heal unless you rest.”

She waved a hand in the air. “Eh. I can rest when I’m dead.”

Why wasn’t she listening? “I’m serious. You should have had it looked at already.”

When she didn’t respond, he glanced over at her.

Emma was staring at him with her head tilted and her eyes narrowed. “I don’t know why I didn’t think of that.”

“How long have you had trouble with your knee?” he asked.

She shrugged. “High school.”

“High school? Emma, that was years ago. You’ve got to be kidding me.”

She sat up in the seat. Ram-rod straight. “I’m sorry I didn’t do things on your timeline. I’ve been too busy squandering my life away.”

Jerking back, he lifted his chin. “I didn’t say you were⁠—”

“Between playing with puppies and dancing in tutus, I haven’t even found time to pay my taxes.”

James’s foot slipped on the gas pedal. “You haven’t paid taxes? Emma, that’s a federal crime!”

“What are you gonna do, Jamesy Boy? Lock me up?”

“You know I don’t handle criminal cases.”

“Ha! I guess you’re one of the good ones then.” She leaned forward and grabbed her purse from the floorboard and plopped it in her lap. “Or maybe just the lesser of many evils.”

James flicked on the turn signal as they neared Emma’s driveway. Each retort was louder than the last, and what started as a casual conversation was turning into a sparring match. “What are you talking about? I don’t lock people up. Where is this coming from?”

“I wasn’t aware that you were my dad and I needed to be lectured,” Emma spat.

“I wasn’t lecturing you. Emma, please⁠—”

“Please what? How about you please. Please lay off, okay?”

James pulled to a stop in front of her small house. Emma had never raised her voice or gotten snippy with anyone. She didn’t even play into Joy’s passive-aggressive attitude. Now his heart was pounding in his chest, and Emma was reaching for the door handle.

“Emma, wait.” Why was she so bound and determined not to accept his help? He was able and willing, and she was pushing him away.

He rounded the car to come face-to-face with Emma’s raised hand.

“I don’t need your help.”

“But I’m right here, and you’re injured.”

“Then I don’t want your help. I can get inside by myself.”