Page 16 of Cuffed (Everyday Heroes 1)
I need to stop thinking about the gold flecks in his brown eyes and how he still has the hint of a scar on his chin from when he tried to jump his BMX off a homemade ramp.
Familiarity.
That’s what he is, and it’s something I’m not used to outside the world I’ve created.
It’s too much. Too unexpected. Too close.
“You’re right. I don’t need this extra piece,” I say as I stand abruptly and begin to clear the dirtied forks that were discarded when the paper plates were tossed into the fire. My avoidance of eye contact only serves to compound the awkwardness and reinforce that I’m not acting anything like my normal self.
Once in the kitchen, I do things to busy myself. Wipe down the counters that have already been cleaned. Restack the dishwasher. Anything to settle the discord I feel.
“Emerson.” The deep rumble of Grant’s voice cuts through my thoughts. My hands still. My heart races. My feet turn to face him. “Is everything okay?”
Yes. No. I don’t know.
I meet his eyes and struggle with how to respond. “I worked a long time to make this life, Grant.” My voice is shaky, and I hate that it is, but there’s no way I can disguise the emotion.
“Okay.” He draws the word out as he cocks his head to the side, brows narrowing as if he’s trying to understand. “I wasn’t trying to interfere.”
“Then what do you want?”
“To get to know you again. To be friends. I don’t know, you’re my Emmy . . .”
The endearment from our childhood tears into parts of me I didn’t know existed anymore. “You being here . . .” I struggle to explain feelings I’m not even sure I understand. “You’re from another place and time I’ve tried to forget.”
He takes a step closer and leans against the counter, but his eyes never leave mine as laughter from outside floats in. He nods slowly, saying, “I didn’t know that my being here would upset you. I’m sorry. It’s just that since I saw you the other day, I haven’t been able to get you out of my head. I thought maybe we could be friends again. That’s all, Emerson. Nothing more.”
“I can’t be who you want me to be.” My thoughts explode into words I can’t believe I’ve said and want to take back immediately. For some reason, this conversation . . . he makes me nervous.
“Who’s that? I don’t want you to be anything.”
“A victim,” I whisper.
Those two words knock the wind from his sails. His shoulders sag, and he roughs a hand through his hair before releasing an audible sigh. “Em . . .”
“I don’t need a hero,” I explain, thinking of all the times he had talked about someday being like his dad, a hero who saves everyone from everything.
“No one said you did.” The gold in his eyes burns bright as his temper surfaces. “I’m confused. Did I do something to offend you? Did I . . . Christ, never mind. Nothing’s worth it if it’s this much work. Nice seeing you again, Em. Have a nice life.”
“No. Wait,” I say against my better judgment, causing him to stop in the doorway and face me.
Sadness fuses with the anger in his eyes, and the expression on his face mirrors everything I feel but can’t express.
“Am I staying or going, Em? You decide.”
Words don’t come, and we stare at each other for a few moments before he nods in resignation and leaves.
The front door shuts. Leo turns the music louder outside as Desi begins swinging her hips, but I remain in the kitchen with my chest hurting and my perfectly crafted world spinning off its axis. Even the half eaten cheesecake on the counter holds no appeal to me.
A part of me wants to chase after him and apologize. I was more than rude, and he deserves better. The other part of me has finally recognized the emotion I was feeling but couldn’t put a finger on. It’s fear.
I’m scared to death.
Grant scares me.
Out of habit, I run a hand over the inside of my arm and feel the ridges there. The reminders that fear can be overcome.
Drawing in a fortifying breath, I debate whether I should go back outside, drink some more wine, and waste the rest of the night away.
