Chapter 7 Emory
EMORY
Imade it inside Eunice's cabin before the control I’d been holding together since I left his porch finally slipped.
The door barely closed behind me before the sobs started. Ugly, heaving cries that shook my whole body. I slid down the wall and sat on the floor, knees pulled to my chest, and let myself break.
I’d never cried like this over anyone before. Not openly. Not without stopping myself.
You’re a kid playing house.
His words echoed in my head, sharp and cruel, slicing through every soft, hopeful part of me. I'd given him everything—my body, my trust, pieces of myself I'd never shared with anyone—and he'd thrown it back in my face like it meant nothing.
Like I meant nothing.
I cried until my throat was raw and my eyes were swollen and there was nothing left inside me but emptiness. My chest ached with every breath, shallow and uneven, like my body hadn’t caught up to what my heart already knew.
Go home. That was what he'd said. Like it was that simple. As if home were a place I could retreat to when things hurt. As if distance erased damage.
But I couldn't go home. I'd made a commitment to Eunice. Three weeks of house-sitting, and I was barely halfway through. She was counting on me to water her plants, check her mail, and keep an eye on the place. I couldn't just abandon that because the man I’d fallen for had broken my heart.
And my midterms. They were in a week. I'd come here specifically to study in peace, and I’d been too distracted by my neighbor to concentrate.
Stupid. So stupid. Falling this hard, this fast. Believing someone like Kai could want someone as sexually inexperienced as me.
I pulled myself off the floor and splashed cold water on my face.
My reflection in the bathroom mirror looked like hell—red eyes, blotchy cheeks, hair a tangled mess—but I didn't care.
I had a week left in this cabin whether I liked it or not.
I'd just have to avoid him. Keep my head down, focus on studying, and pretend the last week had never happened.
Except I couldn't stop seeing his face.
Not the cold mask he'd worn when he told me to leave.
The other face—the one underneath. The guilt carved into every line when he'd talked about Kevin.
The pain in his eyes. The way he'd braced himself like he was expecting me to judge him.
Like he'd been waiting for the blow his whole life and was surprised when it didn't come.
And then, when I'd tried to comfort him, when I'd told him it wasn't his fault—he'd shattered. Not into sadness, but into something harder. Something defensive. Something that looked a lot like fear. Not fear of me—but fear of himself.
I sank onto the edge of the bed and stared at the wall.
He'd been trying to hurt me. Deliberately. Choosing the words that would cut deepest, pushing every button he could find. And it had worked—God, it had worked—but now, with a little distance, I could see it for what it was.
He wasn't rejecting me because he didn't care.
He was rejecting me because he did.
I thought about the way he'd looked at me from the very first day.
That intensity in his gaze when he'd watched me do yoga, when he'd fixed my hot water heater, when he'd shown up at my door again and again with flimsy excuses just to be near me.
The way he'd kissed me at the overlook like he'd been holding back for years instead of days.
The way he'd touched me in that ranger shed—reverent, desperate, like I was something precious he couldn't believe he was allowed to have.
That wasn't a man who thought I was a vacation fling. That was a man who knew exactly what I was to him and was terrified of it.
He'd pushed me away because he was scared. Scared of hurting me. Scared of failing me. Scared that if he let himself love me, something terrible would happen, and it would be his fault. Again.
So he'd done the only thing he knew how to do. He'd tried to drive me away before I could get close enough to be destroyed.
But here's the thing about being stuck next door to someone—I couldn’t actually run. And neither could he.
I stood up, my jaw set. He didn't get to make this choice for me. He didn't get to decide what I could handle, what I deserved, what I was strong enough to survive. That wasn't love. That wasn't protection. That was fear.
And fear wasn’t going to win. Not this time.
I marched across the yard to his cabin, my heart pounding so hard I could feel it in my throat. The afternoon sun was bright, almost aggressive, and I squinted against it as I climbed his porch steps.
I didn't knock. If I hesitated now, I knew I wouldn’t go through with it. So I just opened the door and walked in.
He was standing at the window, his back to me, shoulders rigid. He didn't turn around.
"I told you to leave," he said, his voice rough. He sounded exhausted, like he’d been bracing for this moment ever since I’d walked away.
"And I told you I can't. I'm house-sitting, remember? I made a commitment. I don't break my commitments just because things get hard."
He flinched at that. Good.
"So here's what's going to happen," I continued, moving farther into the room. "You're going to turn around and look at me. And then you're going to tell me the truth."
"I told you the truth."
"No. You told me what you thought would make me give up on you. But I don't give up that easily, Kai. And I don't think you actually want me to."
He was quiet for a long moment. Then, slowly, he turned.
His face was wrecked. Red-rimmed eyes, jaw tight with tension, the mask of indifference completely gone. He looked like a man who'd been at war with himself and was losing badly.
"You should want someone better," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "Someone who isn't broken. Someone who won't—"
"Stop." I closed the distance between us. "Stop telling me what I should want. I know what I want. I want you."
"Emory—"
"You knew." I cut him off, stepping closer. "From the moment you saw me on that deck, you knew. I could see it in your face. You looked at me like…like you'd been waiting for me. Like I was something you recognized."
His breath caught.
"Tell me I'm wrong," I said. "Look me in the eye and tell me you don't feel it. That this is just hormones, just a fling, just two people who got caught up in physical attraction. Tell me that, and mean it, and I'll walk out that door and never bother you again."
He stared at me, his chest heaving, his hands clenched at his sides. "I can't.”
"Can't what?"
"Can't tell you that." His voice broke. "Because it would be a lie. I knew, Emory. From the second I saw you, I knew you were going to change everything. And it scared the hell out of me."
"So you tried to push me away."
"I tried to protect you. From me. From what I do to people I care about."
"What happened to Kevin wasn't your fault."
I watched him flinch like the words physically struck him. "You don't—"
"I do." I reached out and took his hands.
He let me. "I'm a law student, Kai. I've studied liability and negligence and wrongful death.
I understand the difference between a tragedy and a crime.
What happened to Kevin was a manufacturing defect.
It was an accident. It was horrible and unfair, and I am so sorry you had to live through it.
But it wasn't your fault. And punishing yourself for the rest of your life isn't going to bring him back. "
A tear slid down his cheek. He didn't wipe it away.
"I can't lose you," he whispered. "I can't. But I don't know how to do this without destroying it."
"You're not going to destroy anything." I squeezed his hands. "I'm not asking you to be perfect. I'm not asking you to have all the answers or guarantee nothing bad will ever happen. I'm just asking you to let me in. To stop fighting this. To be mine."
"I've been yours since the first moment." The words came out raw, stripped of all defenses. "That's what terrifies me. I've never felt anything like this. I didn't think I was capable of it anymore."
"But you are."
"I am." He pulled me closer, looking down at me with that intensity in his eyes that told me he was falling too. "God help me, I am."
"Then stop running." I cupped his face in my hands. "Stay. Fight for this. Fight for us."
His arms wrapped around me, pulling me against his chest so tight I could barely breathe. But I didn’t care about breathing right now. I just wanted this—his heart pounding against mine, his warmth surrounding me, the wall between us finally, finally coming down.
"I'm sorry," he murmured against my hair. "I'm so sorry. The things I said—"
"I know. I know you didn't mean them."
"I was trying to make you hate me."
"It didn't work."
He pulled back just enough to look at me, and what I saw in his eyes made my heart stutter. Love. Naked, unguarded love, with nothing held back.
"I don't deserve you," he said.
"Let me decide what you deserve."
He kissed me. It wasn't desperate this time, or frantic. It was slow and deep and thorough, like he was trying to memorize the taste of me. His hands slid into my hair, cradling my head, and I melted into him.
We made our way to the bedroom without breaking the kiss, a slow, stumbling dance of mouths and hands.
My shirt came off first—his fingers catching the hem and lifting it over my head in one smooth motion—then his flannel, buttons popping open under my impatient fingers.
Jeans followed, kicked aside somewhere near the doorway.
By the time the backs of my knees hit the mattress, we were both bare, skin flushed and breathing uneven.
He eased me down onto the cool sheets with careful hands, like I might fracture if he moved too quickly.
Then he followed, covering me with the solid heat of his body, forearms braced on either side of my head.
Our eyes locked, and I felt safer than I ever have.
No more walls. No more pretending this was anything less than everything.