Chapter 12
Istep out of the office, my pulse still thrumming with the echoes of my conversation with my Nana. There’s a heaviness in my gut that feels like it could combust at any moment.
I round the corner to collect my things from the desk where I’d left Henry, but I stop in my tracks when I see a familiar mop of dark brown hair.
I almost trip over my own feet when I see him. He’s sitting exactly where I left him, lazily leaning back in his chair, one hand resting against his chin. His laptop is closed, and his gaze is unfocused, like he’s lost in thought.
And then my heart stops when he looks up at me. His face lightens with a small, familiar smile. The kind that feels like it was molded just for me.
“You stayed,” I breathe out as my legs move toward him.
“Of course I did,” he says casually.
My body freezes, and suddenly, I don’t know what to do with my hands—or with the familiar warmth spreading through me, filling every hollow space I thought would stay empty forever.
“You didn’t have to,” I blurt out. Why did he have to stay? Why did he have the ability to make me forget I was a shell of a person two seconds ago?
“I know,” he replies nonchalantly. “But I figured you might not want to be alone. I don’t want to assume anything, but I could tell that wasn’t a happy phone call.”
My mouth opens, but I can’t think of what to say next. Right before my phone call, I was ready to come clean. I was going to tell him how I felt before I was reminded how easy it is for people to hurt you when you give them that power.
“Why do you have to do that?” I ask. I wasn’t sure what I wanted to say, but I knew I wanted to be alone. Henry made it too easy to forget my pain, but the reminder of my past was the only thing giving me the power to maintain boundaries.
“Do what?” he asks with a smirk that says he knows exactly what he’s doing.
“You know.” I gesture between us, feeling an overwhelming heat rise in my chest. “Be all you.”
Henry stands up and my heart goes still. Thankfully, when he moves to the front of the table, he maintains his distance and leans against the ledge with his arms crossed. “What, you mean a decent human being?”
My heart stutters in my chest, and I bite my lip, fighting the urge to say something stupid. “It’s not that,” I admit, my voice sinking. “It’s just I don’t know how to handle this. You.”
Something glimmers in his eyes that makes me realize he understands my vague statement. He watches me, his stare unwavering. The silence stretches between us, comfortable in a way I don’t expect.
I feel it again—the warmth. It stirs something inside of me I’m not ready to acknowledge. Something I’m not sure I can trust.
Henry breaks the silence first. “Are you okay?”
I clear my throat and stand a little straighter, snapping myself back to the gravity of what this relationship is. “I’m fine,” I answer, the words coming out sharper than I intended. “You don’t have to stay.”
Henry arches an eyebrow, a subtle smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “You keep saying that,” he says gently. “But you don’t really mean it, do you?”
I start to resent how easily he sees through me. His words slip under my guard and settle in places I’m not ready to deal with.
“I do mean it,” I reply, but I can feel my eyes betraying me as they flicker away.
For a moment, Henry is silent and I’m grateful for it. There’s nothing more he can say, nothing that would make this easier.
“What were you going to say before you took that phone call?”
My body collapses into itself. I was hoping he’d forget. “I can’t remember.” God, I’m pathetic.
“Don’t lie to me, Emma,” Henry pleads. The shift in his tone slices across my walls. I pull my arms to my body, raising my shield.
“It doesn’t matter now,” I whisper, lowering my head. “It was stupid.” I feel like a child muttering my half-assed answer.
I push my legs across the room, needing to distract myself with movement. Needing to avoid his heated gaze. Still, I can feel his eyes linger on me, and I fight the urge to turn around and tell him everything.
“Were you jealous earlier?”
The question makes my hands freeze and causes my body to stand up straight. He caught me off guard. I wasn’t prepared to see Henry’s assertive side tonight.
The sound of my pulse raging inside my body takes over my senses. I feel lightheaded but resist the urge to sit down. Instead, I keep my face neutral and slowly breathe in and out. I feel exposed, and my first instinct is to retreat inside of myself.
“Why would you think that?”
Henry doesn’t hesitate before stepping closer, somehow knowing that his mere presence is enough to break me down. His movements are slow and measured, like he’s approaching an animal in the wild.
His eyes stay trained on mine, with each deliberate step pulling us closer.
His steps come to a halt before he gets too close.
“I know when something is bothering you,” Henry says with a firm confidence that pulls at the knot inside me.
“You can’t sit still, and your eyes try to focus on anything but me.
You’re good at pretending you’re okay, but only for the people who don’t really know or understand you. ”
My heart pounds and my knees buckle, causing my body to sway back and forth. His eyes follow the motion, perfectly in tune with my body without even knowing it. Gravity pulls on my tightened lips, and an unmistakable frown grows from the pain of being seen.
“You’re reading too much into it,” my voice cracks. If I was trying to convince Henry he didn’t just read me like a book, I was doing a terrible job.
His head tilts to one side as his shoulders relax. Instead of being thrown off by my comments, he studies me more closely. My defense mechanisms weren’t working on him, and my resolve was starting to crumble.
“I don’t think so,” he challenges.
“Yes,” I respond. I can’t think of anything else to say. I feel trapped between reality and the truth. My hands curl into tight fists at my sides.
Henry leans into the tension and keeps pressing forward. Desperate for the truth. “Why won’t you look me in the eye then?”
Part of me wants to hate him for noticing. For caring. For looking closer when I constantly begged him to look away. But I can’t. Hating him would be too easy.
I turn away, not giving my eyes a chance to look at him. “Henry, please stop. I can’t—” I pause, not letting myself finish that sentence. “I’m tired and there’s a lot I need to do before we close.”
Henry takes another step closer, but I hold out my hand before he can close the space between us. “Don’t. I just need you to trust me and drop it for now.”
“Fine,” he agrees, leaning in but still keeping a safe distance. The space behind his glasses is painted with determination and I know he won’t give up without a fight. “For now.”
“Thank you,” I say, letting out a heavy breath. I grab my laptop and finally make eye contact, giving him a friendly smile. “I’ll see you later, Henry.”
I expect him to gather his things and leave, but instead, he stands still and keeps his eyes on mine. “What about this weekend?” he asks.
The color drains from my face.
“R-Right,” I stutter. “Just text me and we can nail down the details,” I add, trying to sound casual, but my insides feel anything but calm.
I turn quickly and don’t stop until I’m safely tucked away in the office. I rub my hand over my face and let my body collapse into one of the chairs. The feeling of Henry’s stare dissecting my every move still clings to my skin.
I should have told him the truth, but the phone call with my Nana rattled something loose inside me. Something I’m afraid to show him and even more afraid to face myself.
“Did you get the screenshot?” I ask Wren, who’s on the other end of the phone call blasting through my car speakers. I was running late to my shift at the library, and it was all Henry’s fault.
Well, not technically. The moment I was about to step out the door to head to work, I received an ominous text from him. It was unnerving, to say the least.
“Yup, I got it,” she confirms, her voice layered with amusement. “It seems innocent enough to me. He just said he wanted to talk. Why does it have you all riled up?”
The short text message rolls off her tongue as something casual that doesn’t hold much weight. But in the short time I’ve known Henry, I know he is intentional with his words. So, the lack of words and vague disposition was enough to make my thoughts spiral.
I grip the steering wheel tighter and try to will myself not to overanalyze a simple text message. “It’s nothing,” I say quickly, but there’s an edge to my voice that Wren picks up on immediately.
“Emma,” Wren says, dragging out each syllable with purpose. “You don’t freak out over stuff like this. I know there’s more to the story, so spill it.”
“It’s nothing, Wren,” I repeat. “I’m not sure why I even sent you the text message. You’re right. It’s probably nothing.”
“Liar,” she sings, reaching through and cutting down my weak defense. “Just tell me.”
I sigh, flicking on my turn signal as I enter the library parking lot. I have five minutes before I need to step foot through the front doors. “Fine. Wednesday night, Henry and I talked, and it got a little tense.”
“Tense? Explain more.”
I throw my car in park and hunch over in the driver’s seat. “He was pushing me to tell him how I felt, and I almost did, but something… Well, I’m not sure what happened.”
“I know exactly what happened,” Wren hums on the other side of the line. “You shut down when it came to confronting your feelings head-on. It stems from a place of hurt and you’ve earned your right to use that move.”
A quiet sadness echoes through the speakers, and I toss my head back against the driver’s seat with a loud groan. “But?” I ask, knowing there’s more.
“But you’ll only end up hurting yourself if you keep doing that.”