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We watch as he throws open his car door, storming up the steps and through the front door of the house like the human embodiment of the typhoon raging around us.
“What’s he doing?” Wilder yells after several long moments when Kai hasn’t reappeared.
“No idea.”
Another ten minutes pass before his broad frame fills the doorway. He is carrying a cardboard box as he marches down the steps and over to his car. Popping the trunk, he practically throws the box inside before slamming the lid shut.
Guessing that it’s okay for us to go inside now, I open my car door, and the others follow, all four of us hurrying out of the rain.
“There isn’t a single camera left inside this house,” Kai informs us when we’re all inside. “And I’ve checked the whole place for listening devices and any other kind of bug. The place is clean.”
My eyes automatically rise to where the hallway camera was situated, finding a hole in the plaster from where Kai must have literally ripped it from the wall.
Emilia shivers beside me, drawing Kai’s attention, and despite his less-than-warm greeting when we found her earlier, his stance relaxes somewhat, and his voice is softer when he says, “We all need to shower and change, get warmed up, then we need to work out what the hell we’re going to do.”
All of us nod in agreement before we sullenly tread through the house with squelching footsteps. Wilder goes to the kitchen, mumbling something about needing food before he passes out, and Kai follows. I already know, while Kai told all of us to go change and freshen up, he’ll be sitting at the island in his soaking, wet jeans. With the laptop out, he’ll try to uncover everything about Mel and attempt to figure out what he missed.
For a moment, I contemplate going after him. Today must have been traumatic for him, too, and I’m certain that the distance he’s trying to put between him and Emilia is because of how raw he’s feeling. I know he cares about her, but I also know what happened the last time he cared about a girl.
PTSD can be a bitch, and I have no doubt it’s rearing its ugly head right now. He needs time to process. To deal with the demons of his past and realize that this is not that. Just because the situation is similar doesn’t mean history is bound to repeat itself.
When Emilia shivers for a second time, I pull my focus from the kitchen doorway and wrap an arm around her shoulder, pulling her in against me. “Come on, let’s get you warmed up.”
Once we reach my bedroom, I leave Emilia to strip out of her wet clothes as I run a bath. While the water is running, I drop in a lavender-scented bath bomb to help her unwind—now thankful that I purchased a pack after Emilia’s last bath fiasco—and perch on the edge of the tub. I can’t help staring at the spot on the bathroom floor where Emilia was kneeling in that photo. I remember that night so clearly. It was one of many that proved to be a turning point for me.
One of many instances in which I fought my feelings for her. Where I denied just how badly I wanted her. How much I secretly needed her. It’s only been a couple of days since I gave in to those feelings, and despite everything that’s happened today, I feel lighter for doing so. Like something has settled inside me. I feel calm, and at peace.
Even now, with all this chaos around us, I feel reassured knowing she’s here—with me. And when she steps into the bathroom, one of my oversized t-shirts hanging from her petite frame, that feeling only intensifies. I can’t suppress the smile that gains strength as it lifts my lips.
“Come here, Little Sparrow,” I purr, reaching out my hand toward her. She slides her palm into mine, allowing me to reel her in. When she is standing between my spread thighs, I slowly run my hand over the soft, chilled skin of her calves and thighs, my gaze following.
“She didn’t hurt me,” she states in a voice devoid of any real emotion when she realizes what I’m doing. Still, I continue my perusal, not only checking for any bruises or marks but also needing to simply feel her skin beneath mine; to know she’s safe and unharmed.
I pause when I find three sets of curved nail marks indented into the skin on her left thigh, brushing the pad of my thumb lightly over them. “What did she do?” I ask, careful to keep any hint of anger out of my voice.
“Talked, mostly.” When she doesn’t continue, I lift my head and glance up at her. When my eyes meet hers, I know there’s something she’s holding back.
“And?”
“She kissed me,” she confesses after a second.
My eyebrows jump in surprise, but it’s the way her face scrunches that really gets to me. The revulsion instigates a full-body tremor.
“I’ve never felt so violated,” she says in a quiet voice, barely above a whisper. “Which sounds crazy, because… Wilder.”
“No,” I insist, getting to my feet. “What you have with Wilder isn’t even comparable. Yes, you both have a lot to work through, and although not the healthiest, everything has always been consensual. You always wanted him, right?” I wait until she nods before continuing. “He would never force himself on you, even if it was something as simple as a kiss.”
She lifts her hand, brushing her index finger along her bottom lip. “I can still feel her lips on mine.” She sucks her lips between her teeth, as though hoping to scrape any remnants of Mel from them.
Reaching up, I use my thumb to tug her lip free. “Here?” I question, running my thumb along her lip in a mirror image of her movement.
When she nods, I tuck my finger beneath her chin and tip her head back. I wait until she stares at me before leaning in and caressing her lips with mine. I start with a brief touch. A graze. First to the left corner of her lips, then the right, removing any traces of Mel and replacing them with something sweeter, richer. Something that will make Emilia’s toes curl and her body tremble.
Comforting others isn’t really my strong suit, and in this moment a new surge of gratitude hits me for having Hadley in my life. I was all jagged, sharp edges before her. No one other than my three best friends made it past my defenses, and I hadn’t realized how cold and shut off I’d become.
Hadley helped to soften those edges somewhat. For her, I tried to become a better person, a better brother because, after everything she’d survived, she deserved that from me. I wanted to show her I was worthy of carrying the same blood in my veins as she did.
Don’t get me wrong, I am still very much the asshole I was when I first met her—something Hadley will attest to, but I have also learned that it’s okay to let people in sometimes.
