Page 125 of Anything But Lonely

And somehow, despite everything happening, I almost laugh.

Almost.

Because Emerson isn’t shaken.

She isn’t scared.

She’s pissed.

I reach for her hand, more to remind myself she’s here than anything else.

Her fingers slide into mine without hesitation. My thumb brushes over her knuckles, careful of the redness already forming there. She glances down at our hands, then back up at me, and for a second, the anger in her eyes softens. “You’re staring.”

I blink, realizing I haven’t looked away from her.

“You make it hard not to.”

Her eyes narrow slightly. “It’s rude.”

I glance down at her hand still wrapped around mine. “I’m just trying to figure out if I should be worried about the guy my girlfriend just punched or the fact that I’m somehow more attracted to her now.”

The word hangs there between us.

Girlfriend.

The word feels so small compared to what she means to me—I don’t think I’ve even officially asked her if that’s what we are… Girlfriend. Boyfriend.

Her expression shifts for half a second, something warm and almost shy crossing her face before she looks away.

And somehow, that only makes me love her more.

And I want to tell her—need to tell her.

“Emerson!” Footsteps shuffle down the alley, and Rumi, Ava, Jack, and Anderson come into view.

Rumi and Ava immediately rush to Emerson’s side, concern in their features as they ask what happened.

Anderson looks from me to Jenkins, taking in the situation, and then he looks to Jack.

Following his gaze, I’m not the one who messed with Emerson, but my stomach still drops.

I thought Emerson looked scary when she was mad—safe to say, it runs in the family.

Jack marches over to Jenkins, grabbing him by the collar of his T-shirt.

As the Lead Firefighter at the station and next in line for the chief—if the whispers among the station are reliable—Jack is the last person Andrew Jenkins would want on his bad side.

Without a word, Jack drags Jenkins down the alley, around the bar, and into the parking lot, shoving him to the ground.

“Get the fuck out of here.” His voice is low, but Jenkins still hears him loud and clear.

In seconds, he’s stumbling to his feet and heading to his car.

Safe to say, I think this is the last time any of us will see Andrew Jenkins ever again.

CHAPTER 42

EMERSON