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She looks scared. Shocked. Pissed.
And heartbroken.
12
Emma
My heart is beating like a rabbit’s, slamming against my rib cage so hard and fast that I swear it’s going to explode.
I just rode my bike back from my first day at work, feeling on top of the world, happier and more content than I’ve felt in a long time. But the second I pulled up outside, I should’ve known something was wrong. I heard a crash and a heavy thud and hurried toward the front door, but this isn’t the sight I expected to greet me.
West and Trent both stare at me. Their eyes—soft gray and piercing blue—are locked on me. Trent has a bruise blooming on his jaw, and West has one on his cheek. They’re both breathing hard, their eyes wild, and for a horrified moment, it occurs to me that if I didn’t come home when I did, they could’ve really hurt each other.
This could’ve ended so badly.
Actually, it still could.
I don’t know exactly what they were fighting about, but given the tension I’ve felt clogging the air in this house ever since the night Trent got hauled into the police station, I can guess. And I wish I knew how to fix it.
“What are you doing?” I ask, my voice raw and scratchy. My throat feels too tight, making it almost impossible to force the words out.
“Nothing, Ems. We’re just—”
Trent tries to push past West to step toward me, but the broad-shouldered man doesn’t let go of him. Instead, he slams Trent back against the wall again, growling low in his throat. Trent’s gaze whips back to him, anger sparking in his eyes, and the next thing I know, his fist is flying toward West’s face.
It connects just above the bruise he already has, and West’s grip on him loosens. Trent presses his advantage, stepping forward and swinging again.
Fuck. Fuck! No, no, no, I can’t let this happen.
As West blocks Trent’s punch, I race forward. I don’t give a single thought to anything except stopping this, ending it right now before either of them gets hurt any worse. Before they do something they won’t be able to come back from.
They’re big men, physically intimidating and downright scary when they’re mad like this. Either one of them could crush me like a bug—but that doesn’t stop me from forcing myself in between them, putting my body directly in each of their paths, cutting them off from each other.
West, who has his fist cocked back to throw a punch at Trent, arrests his movement, his eyes widening as he realizes it’s now me standing in front of him.
Trent’s chest rises and falls fast, and his gaze flicks from me to West. His ice-blue eyes burn with cold fire, and his lips curl back.
“Step out of the way, Ems. We need to finish this.”
“No, you don’t,” I say forcefully. “Not the way you mean to, anyway. You need to let it go. You’ve been best friends for as long as I’ve known you. Whatever the fuck you’re fighting about, I promise you, it’s not worth it.”
His attention shifts back to me again, and this time, the look on his face makes goo
se bumps erupt all over my skin. “It is worth it, Ems. It’s worth everything.”
My heart kicks into high gear, pounding hard and fast in my chest. I shake my head, biting my lip. “I don’t want you to fight.”
“Sometimes it’s the only way.”
Trent glares at West as he speaks, and the possessive anger in his expression sparks something inside me. Just the other day on my way to the interview, I found myself thinking about what it might be like to have all of Trent’s passion, all of his protective possessiveness, focused on me.
It could be amazing. Life-changing. The kind of thing all women dream of.
But this is the downside of that. The ugly side of his refusal to back down from what he thinks is right.
His stubbornness and anger almost tore us apart for good. I won’t let it tear him and West apart. I won’t let it ruin everything.
I’m done sitting by the sidelines and watching things play out, hoping they turn out for the best. It’s my turn to put my hands on the wheel and show these men I’m not the same person I once was.
