Chapter 1 #3
Then at last came a soft knock at the door, followed by the quiet creak of it opening. And there he was—James Walker. Hot as ever. My stupid heart skipped a stupid beat simply at the sight of him.
"Emma, you wanted to—" His breath caught as his eyes widened with surprise upon seeing me. He looked me over—face, body—and his focus lingered on my lips. I couldn’t help but smile at his less-than-subtle reaction.
"You look amazing! Wait, how the hell do you look amazing?" James shouted with more concern than I was ready to process.
In two quick strides, he was across the room, towering over me. "How the fuck did you manage this on your own? You should be in bed, not moving around like a prima fucking ballerina."
Okay. First of all, not like I was pirouetting—I was standing in a bathroom. Calm down, Swan Lake.
Second of all, did he, in the midst of all his profanity and that horrible commanding tone, express actual concern for my well-being? The last time we spoke, he acted like I was the bane of his existence.
My brow arched instinctively, my pride steamrolling over any appreciation for his unsolicited concern. "James, do I look like a sixteen-year-old in desperate need of an overprotective father?” I shook my head in disappointment. “I think I can manage my own safety, thank you very much."
To really sell my point, I added a huff at the end. As one does when delivering a rousing “I’m my own woman” speech.
Then took a triumphant step out of the bathroom, chin held high—and immediately tripped over the walker parked in the doorway I’d forgotten all about.
Stumbling forward, I nearly met the floor face-first—until James’s arm looped around my waist and hauled me upright.
The gods had a sick sense of humor.
"You were saying?" he asked, while smothering a sigh, and managing to sound both exasperated and unbearably smug.
Nothing worth repeating, apparently.
Without another word, he scooped me up in his arms, and placed me back on the bed, his movements surprisingly careful. His fingers brushed against my temple as he tucked a stray strand of hair behind my ear.
I stared at him wide-eyed, a swirl of confusion and disbelief bubbling under the surface. There was no denying he was acting very differently compared to the last time we spoke.
And as much as I wanted to melt into this sudden display of softness, let it sweep me away, I couldn’t ignore the glaring question hanging in the air. I needed answers. And fast.
"James, I don’t entirely understand what’s happening here," I began hesitantly, my voice shaky despite my best efforts to stay composed. "The last time we spoke, I think I made it pretty clear how I felt about you… How I feel."
The words caught in my throat, threatening to break me. Damn it, this is hard.
"And you," I continued, while struggling to keep myself together, "you made it clear you didn’t want anything to do with me anymore. You told me you couldn’t get over the whole thing with Julian."
James’s face paled instantly at the reminder of my True Bond with another, his brows drawing into a dark, simmering stare. Obviously, still a sore subject.
"But now," I pressed on, "you’re here… And you’re being nice. And it’s sweet, but also…" I bit my lip, willing myself not to crumble. "It screws with my—it hurts." My voice cracked on the last word, but I refused to let the tears fall.
"Emma," he murmured, his tone so soft it almost didn’t seem real, "I know what I said, and honestly… I wish I could take back pretty much all of it."
Hope bloomed inside me like never before. "You do?" I whispered. "Why? Nothing’s changed, has it?"
"No," James said, "but weeks of hoping and fearing can change a man." He smiled faintly, though sadness lingered in his eyes. Only then did I notice the dark circles beneath them, carved deep, as if sleepless nights had been stacking up for years.
He caught my hand and threaded his fingers through mine.
The warmth of his touch anchored me to the moment.
"You have no idea how scared I was of losing you," he admitted, while his thumb brushed delicately over my own.
"I sat by your bed every day, every night. I couldn’t leave your side, not for a second. "
His stare pinned me in place, as if he were searching for something—confirmation, forgiveness, maybe both. The intensity of it was almost too much to bear, yet I couldn’t look away.
"I know what I said, Emma," James said as he scooted a little closer to me. "And I’d be lying if I said the True Bond between you and Julian didn’t bother me.
" His jaw tightened; the conflict was written clearly across his face.
“But you in a coma for nearly a month… It brought everything into perspective. "
He hesitated, but then his features hardened as if the admission physically hurt him. "And I can’t—nor will I—live without you."
My breath caught in my throat, and my poor heart threatened to leap out of my chest. "So…" I whispered, terrified of shattering whatever fragile thing was hanging between us, "you mean… You might feel the same way about me?"
James let out a quiet chuckle, equal parts relief and self-deprecation. "Trust me," he said, as a faint smirk tugged at his lips, "nothing shakes a guy out of his anger like watching the girl he loves implode."
Did he just say…?
"Girl he loves?" I echoed softly. Meanwhile, my heart was beating so loud and fast, I was sure he could hear it.
"Woman, sorry," he teased.
"Yeah… Not the part I was focusing on…"
He smiled, his eyes staying on me like they were holding on for dear life. Then he took a deep breath and shocked me to my very core as he said, "What I went through when I thought you’d left me, when I thought you died…" His voice trailed off, his entire body stiff at the memory.
"Nothing in my life, not even all the shitty crap I survived as a kid, compared to this kind of gut-wrenching torment. And somewhere in all that pain, I realized one thing with brutal clarity: losing you is the one thing I can’t survive.
I never thought I’d find a connection like this with anyone but I did.
With you. Which means, your death wouldn’t just kill me, it would fucking destroy me. "
I swallowed the lump, lodged in my throat as he gently caressed my cheek, wiping away the spilled tear.
"You are my life, Emma, you are my cure for darkness, and my hope for the light. I have no business walking this earth if you’re not right beside me, annoying me with your endless hunger for debate."
I let out a teary laugh.
He leaned in calmly, slightly touching my other cheek with his lips, kissing away another fallen tear.
"I love you, Emma Thompson. I’m so in love with you I can’t breathe when you’re not around. I am so fucking sorry it took you going nuclear on my ass and three weeks of coma for me to figure it out, but I do. I…" He took another breath.
"Just shut up and kiss me already." I laughed through my tears, yearning for his touch.
And then he finally fucking did.