Chapter Thirteen
Reid
W hat’s that smell?
Groaning, I lift my arm and sniff my pit. Fuck. That’s me. When did I shower last? The days and nights have blurred together. I’ve spent most of that time lying in my bed, inhaling Emma’s lingering scent, or standing in her bedroom, aching to see her.
So why don’t you call her, asshole?
My heart rate quickens. I know I need to reach out to her, but as time passes, the guilt swallows me whole. It’s better this way. I’m sure she’s made up with her mother and they’re living with Amara’s employer. Hopefully Amara is giving Emma the attention she deserves.
Like a fool, I grab my phone and stare at the last text from Emma. It was from days ago, before the blowup. I’m desperate for any sort of correspondence from her. Would it hurt for her to at least let me know she’s doing okay?
You can’t have it both ways, Reid.
Either you want her to go off and be happy, or you want to be in her life. Not both.
A knock on the door has me jolting upright.
Is it her? Has Emma come back to see me?
As much as I want to believe that, I know better.
The only people who’ve come by are Cole, Brayden, and my preacher friend, Easton.
Cole to bring beer, Brayden to bring food, and Easton to bring encouragement.
Without them, I might’ve died from malnourishment and depression.
The knock becomes more persistent as I clomp down the stairs.
Maybe it’s Maggie. That old lady has no qualms about beating on my door all hours of the day to demand I fix something in her unit.
To be honest, I’d like the break. Maybe repairing her AC unit for the eightieth time would a good distraction from the pain wreaking havoc inside my chest.
I fling open the door, half expecting to see the old curmudgeon, but it’s not her at all. The woman standing before me is beautiful and young. Well, not that young.
“Amara,” I say flatly, eyes darting past her, hoping to see Emma nearby. “Morning.”
“It’s three in the afternoon, Reid. May I come in?”
I wave her inside, unsure why she’d ask this time. The other day, she let herself inside without permission and everything good and wonderful exploded in my hands. Once she passes, I close the door behind her. She sniffs the air and sighs heavily.
“What?” I ask grumpily as I make my way over to the couch. “What do you want, Amara?”
“You stink. Go shower, please.”
We have a silent stare off, both of us stubbornly refusing to back down.
Since this is so far from her typical meek, pitiful behavior, I relent and do as I’m told.
When I return fifteen minutes, feeling admittedly better, I find her scrubbing the kitchen sink.
All the dishes have been done, the floor has been swept, and she’s organized the mail for me.
“Uh, thanks,” I grunt, shifting on my feet.
“Have you eaten today?”
“Just stop already. Why are you here?”
Ignoring me, she digs around in the fridge and finds some leftovers Brayden brought by. After nuking a plate, she hands it to me and then points toward the living room. When she finally joins me, she hands me an opened bottle of beer and keeps one to herself.
“I’m confused,” I state as I set the beer down on the coffee table so I can shovel in the piping hot food.
“Last time I saw you, you wanted to murder me. Later, I found out you brought the sheriff by. Now you’re…
” I wave my fork toward the kitchen and then stab more of my food with it. “This. Whatever this is.”
It’s strange to have her doing these things for me. I always took care of everything. Never the other way around.
A flash of guilt shines in her eyes and she rubs her thumb over the lip of her bottle. “I came to apologize.”
I nearly choke on a mouthful of green beans. “What for?”
“Wanting to murder you and trying to get you arrested.” She takes a long swallow of her beer. “And calling you a pedophile. That wasn’t fair.”
My stomach curdles at the reminder. I love Emma, but the romance between us was new and certainly long after she turned eighteen.
“For the record, she’s been avoiding me too.”
“She has?” I meet her teary eyes with a frown. “Why?”
She shrugs and hides her wobbling lip with another sip of beer. “Because I was out of line. I know this. I’ve been trying to apologize to her.”
“Where’s she staying then?”
Pain burns in my chest. This whole time I thought she was with her mom. But, if she isn’t with her or anyone in this complex, where is she? A flare of worry surges through me. The urge to text her and demand she come home is strong.
“With the Blakelys. I’ve gone by there a few times to make sure she’s okay. Didn’t see her, but Quinn was outside one day and assured me she’s fine.”
“Could he be lying?” I growl, no longer interested in eating, tossing the half-eaten tub of food on the cushion beside me. “We should go over there. What if she’s staying there because she feels like she has nowhere else to go? What if they’re not being good to her?”
“I said she’s fine,” Amara bites out. “And why do you suddenly care? You’ve been hiding away since I caught you two.”
I sear her with a fiery glare. “I’m doing it because she deserves to be happy. With her mother. I can’t come between the two of you.”
Her lips thin out and she looks at her beer. “You always do that.”
“Do what?”
“Suffer. Willingly. For others. Never once are you selfish, and the one time you do something that makes you happy, you immediately give up when someone pushes back on it.”
Anger, hot and explosive, surges through my veins. “You sound disgusted by that. But you’re also disgusted by me being with her. Which is it, Amara?”
“Both. Neither. I don’t know.” She sets the beer down with a loud clank. “I was sleeping with someone else, Reid.”
It takes several moments for my mind to catch up. “What?”
“All those nights cleaning? I wasn’t.” She darts her eyes away from mine. “I was having an affair. But Emma was so happy living with you. I didn’t want to take that from her.”
I shake my head, bile creeping up in my throat. “You cheated on me? With who?”
“It doesn’t matter,” she says quickly. “You don’t know him. I met him through work. One thing led to another, and we slept together.”
“I don’t need all the details,” I grumble.
She sucks in a sharp breath and nods. “The point is, I had no right to be so upset with you. We were broken up, officially, and I’d betrayed our relationship anyway.
” She swallows hard and flashes me a sad smile.
“It’s just… She’s my little girl. She always will be. Seeing the two of you like that…”
I get it.
It must’ve been traumatic. Not to mention, I was choking her daughter while we fucked. Amara’s reaction wasn’t that out of line.
“It was difficult,” she continues. “Momma bear came out ready to claw out anyone who hurt her little cub. I was blinded by the instinctual need to protect her with everything in me.”
“I understand that.”
“But I was wrong.” She sobs pitifully. “Toward the both of you. You deserve to be happy. So does Emma. It still freaks me out that you two found happiness with each other, but it’s not my job to control that. As much as it pains me, my girl is grown. She can make her own decisions.”
My heart hammers inside my ribcage. The urge to end this conversation and go after Emma is overwhelming. I need to apologize and beg for mercy. Amara is right. I’m never selfish and it’s ruining my life. Just once I want to take what I really want, never letting go.
You let go once, asshole.
“Just promise me,” Amara says, voice wobbling, “you’ll take care of her and love her like she deserves.
Support her dreams and aspirations, whatever those may be.
I’m going to step back and let my daughter have the life she wants.
She deserves someone who will fight for her, not roll over and let her win every time. You deserve that too.”
Amara pats me on the head and then leaves without another word. I don’t wait for the door to close before racing for the stairs to find a pair of shoes.
I have to go get her and bring her home.
My girl.
My sweet, sexy, sassy Emma.
The Blakely house is massive and fancy as fuck. It sucks that I’ll never be able to provide a home like this for Emma. But, despite my insecurities, I shut off the truck and stalk over to their front door. After a few rapid-fire knocks, a man answers the door.
“You must be Reid,” the man says, features cool and unwelcoming. “I’m Quinn Blakely. ”
I shake his hand. “I’m here to talk to Emma.”
“What if she doesn’t want to talk to you?” he challenges.
My hand curls into a fist. Could I knock this man on his ass to get to her? Would I? I meet his gaze with a fiery one of my own. “Tell her too damn bad.”
He slams the door in my face.
Is that it?
Are we done?
I rub at the back of my neck, pacing their front porch as I wonder what to do next. Before I can do anything crazy like throw a rock through the window, the door reopens.
It’s not Quinn.
Emma, dressed in a pair of jeans and a beige sweater, crosses her arms over her chest, leveling me with a hard stare. Her green eyes are especially beautiful when she’s angry or upset. I love when they turn soft and hooded when I’m inside her or making her laugh.
“Hey,” I croak out, unable to form much else aside from that word of greeting.
“Hey.”
She’s definitely not making this easy. I take two steps closer, reaching for her slight frame. I’m grateful she doesn’t flinch or back away. When I make it to her, I fall to my knees and hug her waist.
“I’m sorry, Em. Fuck, I’m so sorry. Please forgive me for acting like a fucking twat.”
A teary laugh escapes her. “A fucking twat? That’s accurate, I suppose.”
Her fingernails scratch through my scalp and it’s the best feeling in the world. I inhale her sweet scent, rubbing my face over her sweater, needing to bathe in all that is her.
“I just flipped out. It’s no excuse. I know that.” I squeeze her tighter. “I only wanted you to be happy.”
“I’m happiest when I’m with you, Reid.”
I let go of her so I can stand up. Cradling her pretty face, I admire just how wonderful she is. This feeling zapping through my veins is unlike anything I’ve ever known. Why the hell would I willingly walk away from it?
“It took me a minute to realize I deserve this thing between us. I have given up everything in my life for others’ happiness, but I can’t give you up.
If that makes me selfish, so be it.” I press a soft kiss to her plump pink lips.
Fuck, I’ve missed them so much. “I am done sacrificing what I want.”
The next kiss I give her isn’t a sweet, apologetic one. This one is desperate, possessive, and claiming. I kiss her until she whimpers, her fingers clawing at my shirt with the need for more.
“Time to go home,” I growl, tearing from our kiss so I can hoist her up over my shoulder.
She cries out in surprise. “You’re crazy! Put me down!”
“Not a chance.” I smack her ass through her jeans hard enough she squeals. “Now be a good girl and keep that pretty mouth closed so the neighbors don’t think I’m kidnapping you.”
“And if I keep screaming?”
I give her another hard swat that makes her squirm. “I’ll find a way to keep your mouth busy. Right here in the Blakely’s yard.”
She zips her lips and keeps them closed even as I strap her into the front seat of the vehicle. “What about my stuff?”
“We’ll come back for it later.”
“What happens now?”
“ We do.”