Page 74 of Deceit

My brother’s chivalry was also getting on my fucking nerves when he offered up his bed for her to sleep on. Though, thankfully, my little blonde is more intelligent than that and decided to take the couch in my living room.

Since my sleeping spot—my house—was now taken over and being tampered with Emmy’s scent and fucking body, I took solace in my bedroom for maybe an hour of rest. When my eyes crack open to the sound of the front door squeaking and softly slamming shut.

Pushing myself off the bed, I pace the floor for several minutes, raking my hands through my hair and battling with myself on even leaving my room.

She’s probably uncomfortable with being here and pissed about her car but, fuck me, I lose in my own civil war and silently open my door to make sure she’s okay.

I’m fully aware that I have a hard time staying away. That half of me doesn’t want to steer clear of the vortex that is Emmy Lou Rhodes.

I don’t need a blunt when she’s around. She gets me all sorts of fucked up, like when she played with my niece this evening and created thoughts of her being the mother of my children in the future.

Kindness is easy for Emmy.

Allowing me to publicly being her husband isn’t.

Stepping off my porch, the cool air brushes my skin as the crickets do their thing like they always do. My gaze searches around the front yard to find it empty and lacking a short blonde that consumes my lack of sleep.

She must’ve taken a walk, which would be fine if she knew the area and we weren’t in the middle of nowhere for her to take a midnight stroll.

I draw a step to get onto the gravel road to look either way when I hear a grunt then a faint mewl of pain coming from someone.

The shuffling of rocks sounds to my left and I instantly move, rounding Emmy’s big-ass jeep to find two bodies lit up from the moon overhead.

Emmy is the first thing I notice in the distance, dressed in the white top that my sister gave her to sleep in, when her little elbow swings backward and her fist connects with something in front of her.

A body stumbles back, almost matching her petite frame, but it’s a tad taller, thinner, and…Camilla?

My eyes bulge before I’m stomping my ass over there to make sure I’m seeing shit straight.

Emmy careens backward before digging her bare feet in the sharp and dirty rocks of my driveway. Hands clenched at her sides, she uncoils and stands at her full height. She must see Camilla’s next move because she hunches down to dodge it then delivers a fistful of knuckles to her opponent’s ribs.

“You fuckingbitch,” Camilla roars out, sending my heart ridged and skipping like a stone across the top of water.

For a moment in time, she would’ve been the person I was about to protect. The one I’d lay down everything for because she was the first woman I’d ever loved, to who I’d given anything to.

Camilla was supposed to beitfor me.

Everything.

Then I made her into nothing and continued on with my life only to find someone who caused my heart to brim over again in a long time.

“Emmy.” Her name isn’t clipped off my lips with animosity but confusion.

How in the fuck did she run into my ex, and why is she throwing hands?

When I reach her, I’m almost scared to wrap my arms around her.

Not because she could hurt me physically but because I don’t want to startle her. Because Emmy’s hostility is something I rarely see come out.

Also, it’s because I know there are more hidden reasons why she’s so upset.

Camilla registers my voice, locating me, and drops her defensive stance while taking a safe step back.

Emmy, on the other hand, is at the ready, just how she was trained to be.

Never trust that something is what it seems.

Isn’t that the fucking truth?

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