Chapter 16
On Torch, Emmeline flew through the freezing evening air, trying to calm her blood and the desire beating through her.
They had been so close to kissing. It was so easy to lose herself around Luke, to forget about all of her carefully thought-out plans and ideas.
It was perhaps the only time she felt so in the moment—entirely untethered from everything but him: the scent of his skin, the soft pad of his fingers cupping her face, the warmth of his body.
“Get a grip,” Emmeline scolded herself. Torch turned her head, concerned, and Emmeline cleared her throat. “Nothing, girl.” She patted Torch’s scales, and her dragon faced forward again, soaring through the air to take her to her parents’ place.
There, she wanted to collapse on the couch the moment she entered, but she knew that if she did, there would be nothing stopping her thoughts from focusing on Luke, and she could not handle that right now.
Instead, she strode with purpose to her father’s office, where wood was burning in the hearth. Her father was sitting at his desk, reading a book, and the familiar sight helped ease some of the edge off her nerves.
“Hi, Dad,” she said.
He looked up from over his glasses, his face lighting up. “Emmy!” Charles said, closing his book. “When did you get here?”
“Just now,” she replied, going over to kiss her father’s cheek. “How are you doing? Where are the boys? And Motu?”
“Oh, they’ve all gone out,” Charles replied.
Emmeline’s eye twitched. Why had her mother made her feel guilty for working on a Sunday when neither of her brothers were even home?
“Up for a game of chess?” Charles asked, setting his book to the side. She let out a long breath, giving her dad a smile.
“If you’re prepared to lose,” she replied. “Then, of course.”
Charles laughed, pulling the chess set out from his desk drawer as Emmeline sat on the chair across from him. They started the game, which she had always been good at. Chess was all about planning ahead, mapping out how the game would go and adjusting accordingly.
Comfortable silence filled her father’s office as they played, interrupted by the occasional sound of pieces moving across the board. She inhaled the sweet scent of woodsmoke, listening to the fire crackling in the background.
It was enough to distract her for a little bit, but as she waited for her next turn, her focus frayed.
She thought of the way Luke had whispered her name. He had never called her that before. It was always “Sterling” or occasionally “Emmeline,” never “Em,” as if he could barely speak.
The scrape of his voice played in her ears, over and over.
Charles picked off another knight from the board, then paused before making his next move. “Is everything alright?” he asked, looking at her carefully.
Emmeline jolted. “Of course,” she replied automatically, forcing a smile.
Charles furrowed his brows. “Are you sure?” he asked. “Everything okay with work?”
Her father looked down at the chessboard as she blinked stupidly. When she followed his gaze, her mouth jutted open. They had hardly been playing for ten minutes and she had already lost half of her pieces.
Swallowing the lump in her throat, Emmeline gave her father a tight smile. “Just a bit tired, that’s all,” she replied.
“Why don’t you go lie down for a bit?” Charles asked. With a nod, she stood, exiting her father’s office. The house was quiet—much too quiet. Luke’s voice filled her mind, the way he had apologized for not answering her question.
“If you ask me again, then I promise I’ll answer.”
She thought she had him all figured out, but he kept surprising her, and she wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing. Her pulse raced, making her feel unsteady.
Clenching her jaw, she went to the kitchen, hoping some water would help. As she went to the sink, she saw it was filled with dirty dishes. Emmeline frowned, then immediately rolled up her sleeves.
She pulled open the dishwasher, her frown deepening as she saw that it hadn’t been unloaded. “These men cannot do anything, I swear,” she muttered to herself, pulling out the rack.
Since it was Sunday, the cleaning lady hadn’t come, and Emmeline set about unloading the dishwasher, then loading it, grateful for the distraction, even if it was irritating how useless the men of her family could be.
After the sink was emptied, she opened the fridge to find random containers of leftovers.
“Of course there’s nothing proper to eat,” she muttered, snapping the fridge door closed. She yanked the freezer open, pulling out meat to defrost.
As she waited for that, she wiped the counters, and then, when she was finished with that, she spotted crumbs all over the floor.
“Ugh!” Emmeline grabbed the vacuum, the hum of the machine filling her ears as she pushed it back and forth. Her arms were burning by the time she was finished, but once she was done vacuuming, she grabbed the mop.
Just as she got started on the tiles in the kitchen, she heard her brothers entering through the front door. Emmeline glanced up and saw Naveed entering the kitchen with a bag.
Once he saw her expression, her youngest brother froze.
“Uh, hey,” he said, giving her his best boyish smile. Emmeline paused her mopping to cut her youngest brother a glare. Despite being twenty-three, he gulped, rightfully afraid.
“The cleaning lady was just here yesterday and this place is already such a mess,” Emmeline scolded. “It really isn’t difficult to put your plate and glass in the dishwasher after you’ve eaten. And if you drop crumbs on the floor, just pick them up!”
Her brother looked around, confused. “It’s not such a mess,” he said.
She huffed. “Because I already cleaned up!”
“You didn’t have to,” he said, going around her to set the bag he was carrying on the counter.
“Of course I did!” she groaned, continuing mopping. Naveed headed for the exit, then paused to look at her curiously. He pushed a hand through his long hair.
“Why are you . . .?” Naveed asked, trailing off.
“Why am I what?” Emmeline replied. “Mopping? Because the floor is dirty.”
“No, you’re . . .” He trailed off again, but this time gestured to her.
“What?” she asked, impatient.
“You’re aggressively cleaning,” he said.
She was going to throttle him. Her brother must have sensed the intent in her eyes because he shut his mouth and made a prompt exit.
She continued mopping, muttering under her breath as she went. When she finished, the floors were sparkling. Inhaling the clean scent, she went to put the mop away.
She returned to the kitchen just as Haris was quietly exiting with a glass of water, his socks leaving footprint marks on the still wet tiles.
“Hey!” she said. “I just mopped!”
Wincing, Haris turned to her. “Sorry.” His voice lowered as he muttered something to himself, and she narrowed her eyes at him, hand going to her hip.
“Excuse me?”
“Naveed told me you were crashing out,” Haris said.
Her jaw dropped. “I am not crashing out!”
Haris arched a brow, unconvinced. Her chest tightened.
“Anyway,” Haris continued. “Are you staying for dinner? Or did you just come here to take your frustration out on our kitchen?”
She glared at her brother. “Don’t be smart with me,” she said. “And, yes, obviously I’m staying, since you people don’t know how to fend for yourselves. I was about to cook.”
He gave her a confused look. “But we already brought dinner.” He pointed to the bag Naveed had left on the counter.
“Oh.” She frowned. “I took meat out to defrost.”
“Just put it back,” Haris said with an easy shrug. “And relax.”
“I am relaxed! I’ve never been more relaxed!”
“You’re acting like Ammi.”
Oh god. She was becoming her mother. That was enough to get Emmeline to pause. She released a long breath, and Haris nodded. “I’ll call the others—I’m starving.”
Emmeline pulled out the plates to set the table and, shortly thereafter, Naveed came into the kitchen to reheat the tray of food they’d brought home. Once the oven dinged, he brought the tray to the table, removing the foil to reveal roasted chicken atop a bed of buttery rice. It smelled divine.
They all dug in, chatting about different things: Naveed’s finance job, Haris’s medical school classes, random members of their extended family.
As Emmeline ate and talked with her family members, she found herself relaxing, talking and laughing along with them.
She showed them pictures of Eve from her visit to Millie’s yesterday, telling them all the funny things Noah and Ira had said, her heart warming as she thought of her adorable nephew and nieces.
“She’s all calmed down now,” Haris said to Naveed, voice a fake-whisper. “No need to be afraid anymore.”
“Damn,” Naveed replied in an equally terrible whisper. “I was hoping she’d clean my room.”
Emmeline rolled her eyes. “You guys are so funny. Truly.”
They continued eating, and she felt much better once there was a hearty meal in her stomach. Just as she was finishing, Naveed stood, picking up his plate. As she scooped the last bite of rice onto her spoon, he grabbed her plate from underneath her, too.
“It really isn’t difficult to put your plate in the dishwasher after you’ve eaten, you know,” Naveed told her. She raised a brow.
“Hey, don’t be smart with her,” Haris said, pointing a finger. They were both mimicking her, clearly enjoying themselves.
“Hilarious. A real comedy act,” Emmeline said drily, pushing her chair back. The boys laughed, and her lips twitched.
Together, they picked up the rest of the dishes, and Charles stuck them in the dishwasher. Then, they went to the couches in the living room to hang out, and a little while later, one of the caretakers brought Motu in.
The baby dragon lit up when he saw Emmeline, flying straight to her. She hardly had a chance to bring her arms up to catch him as he all but tackled her, almost sending her flying back.
The weight of him against her chest was soothing. Tears pricked her eyes as Motu nuzzled his head against hers, and she held him closer.
“No longer your enemy, huh?” she asked. Motu had seemingly decided to forgive her for tearing him away from Millie’s kids and bringing him home last night.
Motu was getting a bit too big for such cuddles, so Emmeline sat on the couch, and he nestled over her lap, cuddling against her stomach. She petted his scales and he purred happily.
“That little heathen is so much better behaved than he was,” Charles said, smiling at Emmeline before fixing Haris with a stern glance. Not that Haris was even slightly chagrined—he only looked pleased with himself.
“See?” he said, folding his hands behind his head. “I told you it was a good idea for you to watch him.”
Emmeline shook her head at Haris; he was such an annoyance. But he was her younger brother, so even though he irritated her, she was still fond of him.
“There’s nothing Emmeline can’t handle,” Charles said.
She had always thought so, but the more time she spent with Luke, the less confident she was. She pushed the thought from her mind, focusing on Motu, who looked sleepy now.
“I should head home,” she said, standing with the baby dragon.
They all had work in the morning. After saying goodbye, Emmeline headed home, hoping that she would be so tired once she arrived that she could focus on unwinding, then simply fall asleep.
Unfortunately, not even her favorite silk pajamas, a fastidious skincare routine, a hot oil head massage, and a steaming cup of mint tea could calm her thoughts. After Motu was sound asleep, she was alone in her quiet home, and she couldn’t stop herself from thinking of Luke.
“What is wrong with you?” she muttered to herself, picking up the cup of tea from the vanity table in her bedroom. She took a sip, hoping the mint and honey would relax her nerves.
Her thoughts returned to what Luke had said, how she didn’t hold a high opinion of him. She wasn’t sure if that was true or not. If she was being honest, she was not exactly proud of how she had behaved all those years ago.
He had hurt Millie, yes, but she had hurt him, too, so wouldn’t that make it even?
She glanced at her reflection in the vanity’s mirror. Her dark hair was oiled and pulled back in a braid, her face bare of makeup. The only embellishment was her nose-ring, but even with that, she looked young. Her dark eyes were wide and lost.
“Why do you insist on hating him if the record is clear?” she asked herself. It was unreasonable, and she hated being unreasonable.
Deep down, she already knew the answer to her question. If she didn’t hate him, then . . .
She trailed off. Shaking her head, she reached for her phone.
Luke had said that if she asked him a question again, he would answer.