Page 123 of Always Be an Us

"That's great." He exhales and before I can react or protest, he draws me into a hug.

I stiffen but I resist the urge to push him away. I don't want him to doubt the authenticity of my forgiveness. I can take a hug for at least a minute.

But we're broken apart by a growl coloring the air.

And that's when I find Declan a few feet away glaring at Xavier.

Chapter Thirty-Six

Declan

I’m not a jealous man.

Most times I'm ruled by such cold logic that it troubles those closest to me. I also harness the swift ability to cut people off the second they disappoint me. Things like jealousy and possessiveness are a waste of time, useless emotions that I've never fallen to with my past lovers. Anytime one of them, except Rachel, tried to make me jealous, I would simply break up with them. And though I tolerated Rachel's antics, I always saw right through them, so they could never spur much emotion in me.

It’s something that drove my ex-wife crazy many times and resulted in her once calling me an emotional icebox.

It wasn’t that I was cold.

I just never felt the need to stake my claim on another human being, so I never thought much about them being solely mine. And I also never considered their betrayals heartbreaking because I assumed that most people would betray anyone given the right incentive.

It’s only to be expected. We are all human.

All that to say, jealousy isn't an emotion I'm familiar with.

So I wonder at the overwhelming rage that fills me when I see that bastard touching Emma.

I drove up to the Tiki Bar to meet Emma and inform her that I had contracted a security firm in the next town over to install a security system at her cottage. I just got out of my car and was walking across the street when I saw her with him. Her ex.

I froze in place for a second, reading the situation.

Emma looked uncomfortable, one hand wrapped around her elbow. My initial instinct was to charge in and rescue her from that conversation. Before I could get there though, the bastard had the gall to wrap his hands around her and pull her into a hug.

That was when the bells rang in my ears.

Despite the cool morning breeze, furious heat flared up in my body until I felt like smoke was coming from the top of my head. It chokes up to my throat, tightens my fingers into fists, and nearly has me seeing red.

I feel like a shark, smelling blood in the water.

I move without even being aware of it, closing the distance with a growl until I grab the front of his shirt and throw him off her.

I must have used more force than I realized because he crashed to the ground, near a metal trash can.

"Declan!" I hear behind me as I glare at the bastard who is currently on the floor, watching me with rapidly increasing fear. He crawls backward on the floor, his back clanging against the trash can, as I advance. The words that emerge from me seem too guttural to be human.

"What the fuck do you think you’re doing?"

"Declan, wait." Emma. She grabs my arm and is staring up at me pleadingly.

I scan her face, watching for any sign of the fear she showed last night. "Are you okay? Did he hurt you?"

She shakes her head emphatically. "No. We were just talking."

"Talking?" She appeared anxious talking to him, and that anxiety reminds me of how she looked last night having that nightmare: her eyebrows furrowed, a sheen of sweat on her forehead, muttering to herself about how much she needs to escape.

And then she came awake swinging and fighting for me to let her go.

I’m not an idiot. I know a trauma response when I see it, and I know right now she's far more emotionally delicate than she realizes.

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