When I Was Theirs

45. Jared

45

Jared

E milia doesn’t argue when I button her into her coat, her fingers shaking too badly to do it herself. Nor when I take her hand in mine, wrapping my fingers around hers to try and lend her some of my warmth.

Angelo hovers behind her. “No work tomorrow.”

Stubbornly, she shakes her head. “I’ll be here, Angelo. I won’t be so distracted, I promise.”

“No.” He crosses his arms. “I want to eat my croissants in peace. Take the day.”

I tug her collar up. “You ready to leave?”

“Yeah,” she mumbles.

We say goodbye to Angelo and step outside. Keeping our hands together, I scan up and down the street, searching for anyone hanging around with red hair. Something about Emilia’s panic has bled through, making my own heart race. “Where do you want to go?”

“We have work,” she mumbles.

“Not for a few hours.” And fuck knows that she needs a break. I’ve never known her to go a full day without working, either at the florist or the bar. She balances her time between them. “Want to walk?”

She nods, and we set off down the street. After a minute, she seems to notice our hands.

My hold tightens. “Want me to let go?”

Don’t ask me to let go.

Emilia silently shakes her head, and the tightness in my chest loosens.

Benny, I could use a steer here. She needs help, and I don’t know what to do.

She stays quiet until we reach a park a few streets away. Emilia gently untangles our fingers, walking up to the gate and pushing it open.

My throat tightens when I walk up behind her and she reaches back, taking my hand again.

It feels natural. As easy as breathing.

The lights above us illuminate the path, and we walk aimlessly until Emilia sighs. “I don’t know where to start.”

“You don’t have to tell me anything if you don’t want to.” The words taste like ash on my tongue, but I let them out anyway.

She doesn’t owe me anything.

But I want it.

I want everything.

I stop in the middle of the path. Emilia turns back to look at me, her brows drawing down. Her nose is pink from the cold air, stray strands of caramel blowing around her face. “Jared?”

“I—,” My choked voice cuts off.

Because I want it all .

I want Emilia Marsters. Her story. Her hopes and dreams.

I want to take the fear in her eyes and make sure it never touches her again.

I’d even take the damn doll with a smile on my face if it meant I could have her.

I stop fighting it. That knowledge that I shoved down the moment I walked up those stairs and saw her standing there, exhausted from taking care of Ben. A small, fiery bundle of everything I never knew I needed.

I fell in love with Emilia Marsters the moment I met her.

I’m in love with my brother’s girl. With his Emmy.

Emilia is still staring at me. Dazed, I shake my head. “Sorry. I…,”

I was glad that I met her first, and not you.

He always knew me better than anyone else.

“Sorry,” I say again, my voice hoarse.

Not now. This isn’t the time.

I close my eyes. “There is nothing you can tell me that would make me walk away from you, Emilia.”

Gentle fingers on my face. She’s so close. Midnight blue eyes search mine. “You promise.”

Not a question, but I answer it anyway.

“I promise.”

We sit on a bench, our arms brushing together.

And she tells me a story.