Page 98 of Emmy's Ride

“I won’t.”

We hung up, and I sat there for a second, staring at my phone. Luke was coming home. That was a win. But the war wasn’t over.

I pushed to my feet and left my office, moving through the quiet halls of the clubhouse. Most of the brothers were still sleeping off last night’s run, but I knew exactly where I’d find Emmy.

Outside.

She’d been spending more and more time on the back deck like she needed the open space to breathe.

I stepped outside and found her sitting on the railing, legs pulled up to her chest, arms wrapped tightly around them. She was staring out at the tree line, lost in thought, her long hair falling over her face like a curtain.

“Hey,” I said, keeping my voice even.

She startled slightly, her grip tightening around her knees before she relaxed. “Hey.”

I stepped closer, leaning against the railing beside her. “Just got off the phone with Tank. Luke’s doing better. He’ll be home in a few days.”

Her breath hitched, but she didn’t look at me. “That’s good.”

“That’s all you’ve got to say?” I asked gently.

She swallowed hard, her fingers digging into her arms. “I’m happy he’s okay.”

I studied her, the tension in her frame, the way she wouldn’t meet my gaze. She was still in that dark place, still punishing herself for things that weren’t her fault.

I wasn’t gonna let her stay there. Not a chance in hell.

I sat beside her, threading my fingers through hers. She wouldn’t look at me, her gaze on the distant trees like she wanted to disappear into the forest. The sun was bright, warm with a slight breeze in the air, but I could see the conflict waging inside her.

I tightened my grip on her hand. “Hey, it’s me. I love you. Let me help you.”

Her shoulders curled inward as if she could make herself smaller. “I don’t even know where to start,” she whispered.

“Start anywhere.” I kept my voice low, steady. “With what happened in Mexico. You’ve told me everything. We’ve talked about it. You know it doesn’t change how I feel about you. Startwith what’s been eating at you since we got back. Whatever’s in your head, you don’t have to carry it alone.”

She finally looked up at me, her eyes glassy with unshed tears. “I hate myself.”

My chest tightened. “Why? Did something else happen that you haven’t told me about? I thought we were moving past this.”

Her laugh was brittle, hollow. “Will I ever get past this? I’m not sure it’s possible because I killed a man. I took a life. And because before that, I—” Her breath caught mid-sentence. “Those things I did will haunt me for the rest of my life. That monster told me what to do, and I did it.”

She shook her head violently. “And the worst part? I—” She broke off, her whole frame trembling as she squeezed her eyes shut. “I got off, Austin. I hated him. I hated every second of it, but my body—” Her voice cracked. “How could I enjoy something so disgusting?”

My jaw clenched, fury burning hot in my veins—not at her, never at her, but at what had been done to her. I placed a palm gently on her face, forcing her to look at me again. “Listen to me. What happened to you wasn’t about pleasure. It wasn’t about consent. It was about control. He manipulated you, made you believe you had no choice, but you did what you had to do to get out alive. That doesn’t make you weak. That doesn’t make you dirty. That makes you strong. A fighter.”

A tear slipped down her cheek, and I wiped it away with my thumb. “I love you, Emmy. Nothing that happened changes that. If I have to tell you that every day for the rest of our lives, I will. I’ll not only tell you, I’ll show you by being by your side every step of our future together.”

She let out a shuddering breath. “I don’t feel strong.”

“You are.” I ran my hands up and down her arms, grounding her. “And you’re not alone in this. You think I don’t see the walls you’re putting up? That I don’t feel the way you flinch every timeI get too close?” My voice softened. “I don’t want to lose you to this. I won’t.”

Her lips parted, a mix of pain and longing in her eyes. I leaned in, brushing my mouth over hers—gentle, patient, waiting for her to meet me halfway. When she didn’t pull away, I deepened the kiss, coaxing her back to me, back to us.

She exhaled against my lips, her fingers gripping my shirt as she kissed me back. It wasn’t urgent or frenzied. It was slow, searching, like she was trying to find herself in the warmth of my touch.

When we pulled apart, she hesitated, then whispered, “I think I need to talk to someone. I’m all mixed up inside.”

I nodded, pressing my forehead against hers. “Then we’ll find you someone. Online, so you don’t have to leave the compound if you don’t want to.”

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