Page 62 of Fated to the Grumpy Dragon
“Fuck,” I muttered, getting up and walking out into the main room.
Relief flooded my mind, but just as I went for the door handle, I paused.
Was this really what I wanted to do? To let her back in after what had happened? After I’d learned the truth about her? I touched my cheek briefly where she’d hit me. The pain of her slap was gone, but I was surprised at how much it still hurt on the inside. To know she’d concealed so much from me.
My hand fell away from the door.
“I’m sorry,” Emma called through the door. “Rhyse, I’m sorry. Really, I am. I was losing my mind. Iamlosing my mind. I lashed out in a panic. It’s no excuse, I should never have done it, but Iamsorry.”
I stared at the door, picturing her on the other side, leaning against it,glanistuck to her skin, smelling of saltwater in the darkness.
“Please,” she said. “I don’t have anyone else, Rhyse. I’m … I’m scared. Killian and the others just laughed at me, and … and you’re the only one who doesn’tscareme, Rhyse. I trust you. Somehow.”
My chest rose and fell in the silence that followed. She was telling the truth. At least, she seemed to be. Then again, I’d thought that before, hadn’t I?
“I remember a bit more,” Emma said softly. “That’s what happened. I wasn’t all there.”
I walked away from the door. Back into my study. There I looked at the letter I’d written. Very deliberately I opened the top drawer and tossed the letter inside.
One more chance. I’ll give her one more chance. If it turns out she’s not telling the truth, I’ll send it.
Closing the drawer, I went to the door, and this time, I did not hesitate in pulling it open.
Emma had taken several steps back and was facing the bluffs and the sea beyond. Her shoulders were shaking.
She whirled as light spilled out into the darkness. The candles didn’t provide much lighting, but compared to the darkness, it was easily noticeable.
“Rhyse,” she whispered, staring up at me with eyes that were red-rimmed and puffy from crying hard.
“Emma.”
“You opened the door,” she half-sobbed. “I didn’t think you were going to.”
“Neither did I,” I admitted. “I’m still not sure I should have. But I did.”
She stared at me. “I’m sorry.”
I shook my head slowly. “I don’t want you to be sorry.”
“You don’t?” she asked, her forehead wrinkling between her eyes. “What do you want?”
“I want you to show me I didn’t just make a huge mistake.”
Emma’s throat bobbed as she swallowed, her nerves obvious. “I’ll do my best,” she whispered. “Is that enough for you?”
“It will have to be,” I said, stepping out of the doorframe and gesturing for her to come inside.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Emma
Showered and wearing Rhyse’s oversized sweater and pants, I collapsed into the couch. The best part about wearing his clothing, besides the smell ofboythat permeated them, was that I could tuck my knees up into the sweater, cocooning myself. Was it a childish thing to do? Maybe. Did I give a fuck at that moment? Nope.
“Feel better?” Rhyse asked, settling easily into the couch opposite me.
“Much,” I said, turning my attention away from him and to the fire now blazing in the hearth. Rhyse had gotten it going while I showered, and I was grateful for it because the heat was helping me relax.
I glanced at the empty spot on the couch next to me where Rhyse normally would have sat, his arm against the backrest so I could cuddle in close. Instead, he was across from me where there was not only space but also a table between us. A wall.
