Chapter 41 #2
“Don’t think this means I’m going to be crying in your arms again anytime soon,” I added, the corner of my mouth twitching in something that wasn’t quite a smile. “But… Maybe, down the line...”
My voice trailed off before I could say more. It felt too raw, too soon.
His eyes found mine. “I’ll jump through whatever hoop ye need me to, Emma. Whatever it takes to earn back yer trust.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Then be prepared to find a lot of burning hoops.”
He gave me a careful smile. “I will be.”
We raised our drinks and clinked them together gently, like a promise for the future.
“So,” I said, after a beat, “how are things with Jackson?”
Sean’s smile came slow, but real. “Can’t cook to save his life. Tried to translate me dinner just now. I nearly puked on his shoes.”
I snorted. “Sounds like a keeper.”
“He is,” Sean said. He looked down at his glass, then back at me. “He really is.”
I nodded, the edge in my chest softening a little.
“I’m glad you guys found each other,” I said. And I meant it.
Sean studied me for a long moment. His eyes were still red-rimmed, but the wild panic that had lived there was gone, replaced by something quieter.
“It’s still a long way to go,” he admitted. “The whole True Bond is a challenge, but…” His words trailed off, rougher now. “I don’t want to rush anything, ye know? Not with him. He deserves better than that.”
A ghost of a smile tugged at my mouth. “Yeah.” I paused. “When we were at the border with the Chiefs… It kind of looked like that was a first kiss between you guys…”
Sean closed his eyes. “In many ways it was.”
Okay…
“You want to tell me when you guys formed the True Bond?” I pressed a bit for answers I was dying to have.
Sean shook his head. “Not yet. Not because I don’t want to, but because it’s not only my story to tell.”
I nodded. I could respect that.
We downed the rest of our glasses in silence, not quite back to being us, but maybe something close enough to touch the edges of what we’d lost.
By the third, Sean turned the glass in his hand without looking at me, his thumb dragging slow circles along the rim.
“So,” he said, almost too casually. “What’s going on between ye and Caden?”
My glass froze halfway to my lips, pulse spiking so fast I was sure he could hear it, until I managed to force a weak laugh. “That’s the question you’ve been sitting on all night?”
Sean looked at me, with a crooked smile tugging at his mouth. “What can I say? I’m nosy when I’m drunk.”
I snorted, shoving my empty glass aside. “And when you’re sober.”
His smile faltered for a second, hesitation flickering in his eyes. “We don’t have to talk about it if ye don’t want to.”
I rubbed at my temples. “I am kind of exhausted. You mind if we call it a night?”
Disappointment tightened his features, but he smoothed it away almost instantly. “Of course. Let me walk ye to yer room. Least I can do since neither of us can portal right now.”
“Speak for yourself,” I muttered, bracing a hand against the table as I tried to push up. My knees wobbled, and when I scooted down the chair, it was anything but graceful. “Okay, fine. Maybe you’ve got a point.”
Sean nearly tripped over a chair leg on the way out, and I had to grab his jacket to keep him upright.
“Graceful as ever,” I muttered, steadying him with a hand to his chest.
“Excuse ye,” he said, nearly walking straight into the doorframe before catching himself. He spread his arms wide like it was all part of the act. “That was a tactical maneuver. Very advanced.”
I rolled my eyes, shouldering past him into the hall. “Yeah, sure. Next time you faceplant, I’ll call it combat training.”
“Please do,” he said solemnly, straightening his jacket like he was about to receive an award. “Adds to my mystique.”
We both broke into drunk laughter, the sound echoing too loud in the empty corridor. Our boots scuffed against the stone as we stumbled side by side toward my room, shoulders bumping now and then when one of us swayed too far.
Staring at my best friend, I realized the warmth in my chest wasn’t from the alcohol anymore.
By the time we reached my hallway, Sean slowed, his hand brushing the wall for balance. His gaze slid sideways to me, hesitant, testing the ground like every word mattered.
“I don’t know if this falls under the ‘no talking’ category of subjects,” he said carefully, “but I heard somethin’ about a kiss between ye and Caden, right before the Chiefs showed up.”
“Uh-huh.” I pushed open my door and stepped aside, letting him in. Sean didn’t hesitate, practically collapsing onto my bed like he used to.
“So that really happened?”
I nodded, kicking my boots off and dropping onto the mattress beside him with a sigh. “It wasn’t the first time either.”
Sean didn’t answer right away, simply studied me with that patient, careful look I knew so well.
My head was fuzzy, my emotions running too loose from the alcohol.
“And how do ye feel about it? About him?” Sean’s question was no more than a whisper, careful, coaxing, like he was speaking to a cornered wolf. Which was exactly how I felt.
“It’s…complicated.”
And then, as I stared at my brother, I started blurting out everything at once. “Someone lured me to New York to jump through a blue portal.”
“I heard. Jackson told me ye visited the future,” he said gently, like it was a question but also not.
I nodded, my throat tight. “Yeah. I did. And… Fuck, Sean, it was—” I dragged a shaky hand through my hair, the motion awkward against the mattress. “I saw us. Caden and me. Being… together.”
His brows flew up. “Together how? Like, having sex?”
A humorless puff of air escaped me. “Yeah. And it wasn’t just sex. It was…very intimate. Real. Makes me sick to think whoever set this up saw it too.”
Sean let out a low whistle through his teeth. “Why the hell would anyone want you to see that?”
I hesitated, staring at the ceiling instead of at him. “Our future selves were talking. Caden called me his wife and we were…” My voice cracked. “Trying to get pregnant.”
I took a deep, shaky breath, pushing through the tightness in my chest. “And right before the scene ended, future Emma seemed to…talk to me. As if she knew I was there. Like she could see me watching.”
Sean turned his head slowly. “What did she say?”
I swallowed, forcing my attention back to him despite the emotion clawing up my throat. “She said, ‘Choose this.’”
Sean went very still beside me. For a few seconds, the only sound in the room was our breathing.
Then he reached out and found my hand, lacing our fingers together. His grip was firm, grounding, the kind of quiet pressure that reminded me I was still here, still real, still his sister.
“Between the Chiefs demanding you bond with James,” he said quietly, “and now portals showing ye versions of the future with Caden—what everyone else thinks ye should want—yer being pulled in half by duty.”
“Yes,” I breathed. The single word was a release. “Exactly that.”
“Emma.” His tone softened a tad before a smile tugged faintly at the corner of his mouth. “Fuck all of that.”
I blinked at him. “What?”
“You heard me,” he said, squeezing my hand. “Fuck all of it. Ye’ve always known better than to let anyone else dictate yer choices. So don’t think about anyone else, and tell me…” He leaned forward slightly, eyes searching mine. “When ye think of Caden… What do ye feel?”
I swallowed, caught between instinct and truth. I could’ve dodged. Could’ve joked, or shrugged, or pretended I didn’t know. But something in his tone made it impossible.
So I let myself picture him.
Caden’s face. His infuriating smirk. Those dark, whiskey eyes that saw too much. The quiet way he took up space, like he belonged in it. The fire that burned under every word, every breath.
And before I could stop it, a small, traitorous smile curved my lips.
“I feel…” My throat closed around the word, and I had to push it out. “Relief.”
Sean tilted his head, waiting, patient, the silence stretching between us like a question he didn’t have to ask. Because there was more.
I closed my eyes. “When everything’s too loud—when the world feels like it’s crushing me, when I’m in pain—he just…
stands there. And somehow, it gets easier to breathe.
He simply…” My hands twisted together, as if they could wrestle the ache inside me into something coherent.
“He takes it. The weight. The grief. All of it.”
The words cracked through me like glass shattering.
“I’ve spent my whole life bleeding alone, hiding every wound like it was shameful. And then he came along and ripped the bandages off, made me stop pretending. He doesn’t flinch. Not at my scars, not at the parts of me I hate, not even at the darkness I can’t always control. He…”
My voice dropped, breaking, because the truth was jagged, impossible to soften. “He takes away my pain.”
I sucked in a trembling breath, pressing a hand to my chest as if I could cage the storm inside. “And gods help me, Sean, it terrifies me. Because I don’t know what I’d be if he ever stopped.”
When I opened my eyes, Sean was still there, sitting across from me, watching quietly. His smile was gentle, the kind that didn’t push but somehow still pulled everything out of me.
“Do ye want to be with him?” he asked softly.
I swallowed hard, my throat tight, and managed a small, jerky nod.
Sean’s expression didn’t change, but something in his eyes sharpened: conviction. He reached across the space between us and took my hand in his again, his grip steady and grounding.
“Then go tell him. Life’s too fuckin’ short when we’re on the brink of war, Emma. Too short to live it by anyone’s standards but yer own. Go. Tell. Him.”
My voice came out smaller than I wanted. “What if he dies?”
Sean’s brows drew together. “Is that what’s been holdin’ ye back all this time? Yer afraid to let yerself have him because ye might lose him?”
A bitter laugh escaped me. “Pretty stupid, huh?”
“No, mo dheirfiúr,” he replied quietly. “It’s not stupid. It’s as human as we get.” He leaned in, holding my gaze. “But let me ask ye this: if he died tomorrow, would ye hurt any less just because ye never said it?”
I closed my eyes, shaking my head. “No.”
Sean squeezed my hand once, hard. “Then don’t waste it. Go tell him.”
When I looked back at him, there was no judgment in his face, only understanding.
I nodded, voice barely a whisper. “Okay.”