36. Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Six
D eclan
I’m not a jealous man.
Most times I'm ruled by such cold logic that it troubles those closest to me. I also harness the swift ability to cut people off the second they disappoint me. Things like jealousy and possessiveness are a waste of time, useless emotions that I've never fallen to with my past lovers. Anytime one of them, except Rachel, tried to make me jealous, I would simply break up with them. And though I tolerated Rachel's antics, I always saw right through them, so they could never spur much emotion in me.
It’s something that drove my ex-wife crazy many times and resulted in her once calling me an emotional icebox.
It wasn’t that I was cold.
I just never felt the need to stake my claim on another human being, so I never thought much about them being solely mine. And I also never considered their betrayals heartbreaking because I assumed that most people would betray anyone given the right incentive.
It’s only to be expected. We are all human.
All that to say, jealousy isn't an emotion I'm familiar with.
So I wonder at the overwhelming rage that fills me when I see that bastard touching Emma.
I drove up to the Tiki Bar to meet Emma and inform her that I had contracted a security firm in the next town over to install a security system at her cottage. I just got out of my car and was walking across the street when I saw her with him. Her ex.
I froze in place for a second, reading the situation.
Emma looked uncomfortable, one hand wrapped around her elbow. My initial instinct was to charge in and rescue her from that conversation. Before I could get there though, the bastard had the gall to wrap his hands around her and pull her into a hug.
That was when the bells rang in my ears.
Despite the cool morning breeze, furious heat flared up in my body until I felt like smoke was coming from the top of my head. It chokes up to my throat, tightens my fingers into fists, and nearly has me seeing red.
I feel like a shark, smelling blood in the water.
I move without even being aware of it, closing the distance with a growl until I grab the front of his shirt and throw him off her.
I must have used more force than I realized because he crashed to the ground, near a metal trash can.
"Declan!" I hear behind me as I glare at the bastard who is currently on the floor, watching me with rapidly increasing fear. He crawls backward on the floor, his back clanging against the trash can, as I advance. The words that emerge from me seem too guttural to be human.
"What the fuck do you think you’re doing?"
"Declan, wait." Emma. She grabs my arm and is staring up at me pleadingly.
I scan her face, watching for any sign of the fear she showed last night. "Are you okay? Did he hurt you?"
She shakes her head emphatically. "No. We were just talking."
"Talking?" She appeared anxious talking to him, and that anxiety reminds me of how she looked last night having that nightmare: her eyebrows furrowed, a sheen of sweat on her forehead, muttering to herself about how much she needs to escape.
And then she came awake swinging and fighting for me to let her go.
I’m not an idiot. I know a trauma response when I see it, and I know right now she's far more emotionally delicate than she realizes.
"What the fuck does he have to talk to you about?"
"What’s all this commotion?" The door to the Tiki Bar suddenly bursts open and Rick appears at the doorway. He frowns at me and then his gaze travels to the bastard on the ground.
"What the devil is going on here?"
"Rick." Emma's voice sounds strained.
I realize then that she’s trying to pull my arm back even though I barely feel it. "Help me."
Help with what?
I only wonder briefly because Rick takes another look at me and shakes his head. "No can do, kiddo. That one looks like he might take my head off if I try. He’s got the muscles to do it too, and the money to make it look like an accident."
"Why is he beating on that little wiener?" The older lady I met at the hospital appears behind him. Poppy, I remember Emma calling her.
From her look of disgust, she still doesn't like me, but she apparently doesn't like the guy on the floor either. "I think he's going to piss himself any moment from now."
"They're fighting because he’s Emma’s ex-boyfriend," Rick says in a conspiratorial loud whisper.
"Ah." Poppy nods. "Damn. The girl sure does like them pretty."
Somehow something about her mentioning the guys’ looks makes my mood sour mood further.
Especially when the bastard shoots a crooked grin that I’m sure he’s convinced is charming, puts his hands up, and says, "I come in peace."
"Shut up," I growl and the smile disappears from his face.
A door opens from across the restaurant street, and I hear another woman shouting out, "Hey! No fighting on the street. You're going to scare my customers."
"Please, Lou." The other woman says. "Like your customers don’t pay good money to watch chickens go at it in Pastor Allan's basement."
"This is different from the chickens," Rick points out.
"How? One of them has chicken legs."
"Declan." Emma’s voice is a mixture of exasperation and pleading, her eyes shutting and opening slowly. "Please. Let’s talk."
I consider her plea, mostly because it doesn't look like anyone is going to let me beat up on the guy, and contrary to what Rick said, it's hard to make a crime like that disappear with so many eyes on us.
So, I simply point at Emma's ex and say, "If you know what’s good for you, you’re going to get out of here now and not come back."
Probably bolstered by the crowd around us, the weasel finds it in him to respond, "That’s not your call to make."
"Excuse me?"
"Only Emma can say she doesn’t want to see me again, and we already decided that we’re going to be friends. Right, Emma?"
"What?" My eyes flare open, and I turn to regard her. She avoids my eyes briefly.
"Well maybe not the friends," she says, rubbing the back of her neck. "But I decided to forgive him."
"Why the hell would you do that?"
"Yeah, Emma, why?" Rick pipes up. When I glare at him he holds both hands up and says, "sorry". Thought this was a communal effort."
"Because I can’t walk around harboring a grudge forever," Emma responds to answer the question. "It’s exhausting and feels like shit. I would much rather forgive him and move on with my life."
"That makes sense," Poppy says.
"Doesn’t mean you have to let him hug you," I point out.
"That makes sense too," Rick points out.
Emma glares at Rick briefly and then back to me. "You can’t tell me who to hug, Declan."
"Damn right, I can." The words fly out of my mouth before I can think them through.
And just like that the tides turn.
Emma stiffens and then lets go of my arm, crossing hers over her chest. The temper in her eyes flares to life.
"Oh yeah? By what authority? You’re not my boyfriend last I checked and you’re not my dad either, so what gives you the right to tell me not to hug someone?"
Oh, she has to always throw it in my face that we're not dating. "Emma, I’m saying this for your own good."
She has a soft heart and a bastard like that who took advantage of it once would likely do it again with no qualms. And even if he doesn’t, it’s the principle that matters. He doesn’t deserve her forgiveness, not even slightly.
"No, you’re not," she says. "You’re saying this because you’re jealous."
"I don’t get jealous."
She laughs humorlessly. "Yeah right. Here you are in a tizzy, but you won’t even acknowledge the real reason why. You are jealous Declan, but you're too much of an emotional coward to admit it. But that's the thing about me. At least I can fucking admit to the things I feel. I’m not always perfect and my emotions are messy, but I’m not scared of them."
She takes a step closer, and I finally inhale her warm ocean scent, even as her eyes spark at me. "But you won’t even admit that you feel something for me, because that would mess up with your self-perception that you're this perfect statue, this mantle of indifference. Isn't that right?"
"Emma..." I don't know what to say to that. I have no defense.
And that very fact infuriates me even more.
Especially, when she continues, "Well, guess what? I don’t have to play your game. I can do whatever I want with whoever I want. And there's nothing you can do to stop me."
And with that, she spins around and walks in through the door, in between Poppy and Rick who are still watching me.
"I think I would call that," the older woman says with a smug smile, "a perfect knockout."
I spend most of my day with Emma's words ringing in my head until they drive me crazy.
" But you won’t even admit that you feel something for me, because that would mess up with your self-perception that you're this perfect statue, this mantle of indifference. Isn't that right ?"
Jesus, she really read me on that one. Like a book.
Luckily, nothing important is on the schedule for today, because my mind is a complete mess.
When I return home that afternoon to have lunch with my daughter, I find that Amelia is absent and Emma is present. She's holding a duffel bag in the living room and is bent over in the process of picking up Madam Thornley's Journal from the table.
I close the door behind me and Emma's shoulders stiffen. The atmosphere is suddenly thin and quiet, straining against the tension between us.
"What are you doing?" I ask her.
She holds up the book. "Amelia told me that she was done reading this, so I'm taking it back."
"Taking it where?"
Her irritation shows in the tight press of her lips. "Home. I'm moving out."
"You're not going anywhere."
The anger in her eyes deepens. "I thought we already clarified that you can't tell me what to do. Cross is waiting for me in the car."
She attempts to walk past me, but I take her wrist. "A security system is going to be installed tomorrow. You can go then."
"I didn't ask you to install a security system."
"Well too damn bad. I'm getting us one anyway."
"Fine."
Her anger has a responding heat flaring up inside me, but I tamp it down. I need her to understand something before she goes. "I care about you, Emma. You know that right?"
"You care about me?" She smirks. "You can't even say the actual word, can you?"
"I told you I can't fall in love."
"You're being a coward."
I pull her closer, put my forehead on hers.
"I feel something for you, Emma." I finally admit. "I won't deny it. But love –"
"You feel something for me?" She cuts me off mercilessly. "Amazing. Is that supposed to make me happy and dance for joy?"
"No, it's supposed to...shit, I don't know."
She smiles bitterly. "Yeah. Me either."
And she tries to extract her hand, but I'm filled with a sudden desperate need to get keep her close.
So I draw her back to me and kiss her.
I don't know what I meant to do with that kiss. It was probably supposed to be a goodbye kiss, one last taste before I let her go forever.
But that's not what it turns into.
It turns into a desperate plea.
I'm not sure who dials it up, but suddenly her arms are around my neck, and her lips move in between mine, sucking my lower lip hard. I groan and kiss her back just as ferociously, burying my hands in her hair, emotions flying between and through us.
I should stop but I can't.
Stopping might mean the end of us.