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He glances up at me. It does throb still. A burning reminder, yet there are no marks.
“Do you want painkillers?”
“Not that sore.” I attempt a smile and chew on my lip.
“Do you want to talk about it?” His brows narrow, a small, encouraging smile tugging his mouth.
“Not really. I just want to forget it.” I let out a slow sigh and shrug it off, hinting that he shouldn’t push.
“Do you want a hug?”
I dart up, startled at his question, and flush shyly; I shrug awkwardly, amazed that he would even offer after everything, after days of giving me the silent treatment, and yet here he is, as though nothing has happened. His eyes never leave mine.
He pulls me by my wrist and solidly wraps me in his arms, molding me to him. He rests his lips against my temple as I sag into him.
This feels too good; this is what I need; this is what I’ve missed. I snake my arms around his waist, entirely enveloped in one of the best hugs I’ve ever felt in my life. I could stay this way forever, inhaling him, his warmth around me like a security blanket. It makes all the anger, pain, and chaos drift away like a dream. Forgotten.
We both exhale heavily, releasing the tension fully.
“I hate fighting with you, Emma,” he croons into my hair, and I feel the tug of tears come back.
Oh, no, you don’t! No more, I’m done with all that. I’ve poured enough emotion out this week, and I don’t think I can handle it anymore tonight.
I mentally shake myself to pull it together.
“I hate it too.” I nuzzle into him as he tightens around me reassuringly. I inhale him slowly.
“How was your vacation? Even though you bailed a week early?” His voice is low and husky; it does things to my insides, and I bury my head against his chest. My hair falls over my face to conceal my expression.
“Lonely,” I admit, and he sighs again.
“You weren’t alone, though.” There’s a tinge of regret, and I can’t stay mad at him anymore. He’s always had this ability to make me forgive him, no matter what. The curse of Carrero and his damn spell over me.
“I guess. I like Leila,” I admit with a shrug, staring down at his flat stomach.
“Me too; we’ve been friends since forever. She’s probably one of my few female friends,” he admits.
“You have lots of female friends,” I tease, finally lifting my chin to look at him properly. Our eyes meet as all the awkwardness slowly disperses, and there’s just us … back to normal.
“No, I have dates. I have very few female friends. And no, I haven’t slept with Leila; she’s my friend, nothing else.” He moves his forehead to mine, resting easily against me; it feels natural. Natural, yet agony to be this intimate again.
“You don’t sleep with your friends?” I’m surprised, considering we almost …
“No, I don’t; Leila is like a kid sister to me. She was around a lot when I was young; it wouldn’t feel right.” He shrugs it off.
Did that mean that sleeping with me might have felt right?
I push the thought out of my head along with the warmth rising up my cheeks.
“She said you had a proper girlfriend when you were young … fifteen?” I don’t know why I’m even bringing this up, but somehow, I want to hear it from him. I want to know if he had ever loved, despite the warning pain in my stomach.
“Good old loose-mouthed Leila! he mumbles. “I did.” He watches me warily, and I glimpse evasive Jake. I was right; the times I thought I imagined this, he hid this little piece of history from me.
Why?
“You want to elaborate?” I coax gently, but my heart rate has elevated.
“There’s nothing to elaborate on. I had a first love; she wasn’t my first sexual encounter. We dated for a year, and then it was over.” He shrugs, still holding me but loosely now.
“So, it was love, though?” My ribs constrict painfully.
“I guess … maybe,” he deflects again, his hand coming up to my hair and playing with a wavy strand, distracting his focus, which means he’s uncomfortable talking about this.
“So why didn’t it last?” I hate that I’m asking, that his evasiveness is making me question him, but something in me needs to know. Obsessively so.
“I was sixteen. She was fifteen … kids playing at relationships.” He slides his fingers down the length of hair he’s playing with, rubbing its softness between his fingertips. I wonder if he’s doing it to distract himself or me. “Do you still talk to her?” Why do I even care?
Knowing there has been someone he loved bothers me more than it should.
“Can we not do this, Emma?” he inhales deeply, the definite hint of tension in him again. “Go to bed; we have a busy day if you’re up to it?”
“I’m sorry,” I mutter, but he pulls me close again, hugging me tightly one more time. His arms are around my shoulders, so my head is mostly squished with his squeeze. Then he relaxes, kissing me lightly on the top of the head the way a parent would or a sibling. He turns me slowly, then playfully shoves me back into my room, catching me off guard, so I stumble. The reluctance that had been across his face is suddenly replaced with a cheeky Carrero grin.
“Hey!” I yelp and swat at his hands, instantly outraged.
“Feisty!” he grins, “Slap one shithead, and suddenly you’re karate kid?” He laughs at me, and it’s the best noise in the world. I mock-glare at him, but he just tweaks my face in a juvenile fashion and pushes me further into my room with an easy motion. He pulls the door shut just enough to stick his head through and keep me trapped here.
“I’m glad you’re okay. I didn’t know what I was coming back to; you sounded … not like you.” There’s apprehension as he speaks, but he smiles reassuringly. If only he knew that I have been that way in his absence, on the yacht, that whole time.
“I’m made of tougher stuff, Carrero.” I bow lightly.
“I never doubted that, Miss Anderson. Now go back to bed.
We have work tomorrow if you’re sure you’re okay?”
I nod with a convincing smile. But then I remember the leggy redhead waiting out there, and it’s sobering; he wants to be rid of me so he can play in his bedroom and ‘let off steam.’ We’re back to old Jake once more and our previous relationship, just like he wanted! All the happy bubbles inside of me pop and dissipate as I realize that this is how it is always going to be.
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