Page 125 of Always Be an Us

"Doesn’t mean you have to let him hug you," I point out.

"That makes sense too," Rick points out.

Emma glares at Rick briefly and then back to me. "You can’t tell me who to hug, Declan."

"Damn right, I can." The words fly out of my mouth before I can think them through.

And just like that the tides turn.

Emma stiffens and then lets go of my arm, crossing hers over her chest. The temper in her eyes flares to life.

"Oh yeah? By what authority? You’re not my boyfriend last I checked and you’re not my dad either, so what gives you the right to tell me not to hug someone?"

Oh, she has to always throw it in my face that we're not dating. "Emma, I’m saying this for your own good."

She has a soft heart and a bastard like that who took advantage of it once would likely do it again with no qualms. And even if he doesn’t, it’s the principle that matters. He doesn’t deserve her forgiveness, not even slightly.

"No, you’re not," she says. "You’re saying this because you’re jealous."

"I don’t get jealous."

She laughs humorlessly. "Yeah right. Here you are in a tizzy, but you won’t even acknowledge the real reason why. You are jealous Declan, but you're too much of an emotional coward to admit it. But that's the thing about me. At least I can fucking admit to the things I feel. I’m not always perfect and my emotions are messy, but I’m not scared of them."

She takes a step closer, and I finally inhale her warm ocean scent, even as her eyes spark at me. "But you won’t even admit that you feel something for me, because that would mess up with your self-perception that you're this perfect statue, this mantle of indifference. Isn't that right?"

"Emma..." I don't know what to say to that. I have no defense.

And that very fact infuriates me even more.

Especially, when she continues, "Well, guess what? I don’t have to play your game. I can do whatever I want with whoever I want. And there's nothing you can do to stop me."

And with that, she spins around and walks in through the door, in between Poppy and Rick who are still watching me.

"I think I would call that," the older woman says with a smug smile, "a perfect knockout."

I spend most of my day with Emma's words ringing in my head until they drive me crazy.

"But you won’t even admit that you feel something for me, because that would mess up with your self-perception that you're this perfect statue, this mantle of indifference. Isn't that right?"

Jesus, she really read me on that one. Like a book.

Luckily, nothing important is on the schedule for today, because my mind is a complete mess.

When I return home that afternoon to have lunch with my daughter, I find that Amelia is absent and Emma is present. She's holding a duffel bag in the living room and is bent over in the process of picking up Madam Thornley's Journal from the table.

I close the door behind me and Emma's shoulders stiffen. The atmosphere is suddenly thin and quiet, straining against the tension between us.

"What are you doing?" I ask her.

She holds up the book. "Amelia told me that she was done reading this, so I'm taking it back."

"Taking it where?"

Her irritation shows in the tight press of her lips. "Home. I'm moving out."

"You're not going anywhere."

The anger in her eyes deepens. "I thought we already clarified that you can't tell me what to do. Cross is waiting for me in the car."

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