Just when it seems Emma Daniel has finally managed to piece herself back together, life threatens to rip her apart. Again.
Add a coffee shop, an almost hit-and-run, and one very hot, very stubborn Cuban-American with secrets of his own, and you've g...
Emma coughed loudly, her face beet red. She stared awkwardly down at her feet, wishing the ground would open up and swallow her.
"I'm going to ask you one last time, Emma. What the hell do you think you're doing?"
Emma tried her hardest not to stare, but it was hard not to when a guy looked like that. Emma had seen her fair share of shirtless guys, but seeing Ryder, the guy she'd only just discovered she had a crush on, was all kinds of uncomfortable.
Still, she stole herself a glance. He was clad in nothing but a pair of grey sweatpants that hung loosely on his hips, exposing the waistband of his underwear underneath. He'd clearly just left the shower, which explained his absence. A towel hung over one shoulder and a trail of water trickled down his naturally tanned, well-defined chest before tracing his delicately carved V-line.
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Emma immediately averted her gaze.
The boy was fine.
"Well?" Ryder demanded, breaking her thought process. "What the hell is this?!"
"I...I came to - your grandmother - Ryder, is that a scar on your stomach?"
His eyes darkened. "Get out."
"Miss Tulesa told me to come get you," she managed. "For dinner."
He narrowed his eyes as he noticed Emma clenching her fists behind her back.
"What's in your hand?" Ryder asked. "Let me see."
"You have a scar on your stomach!"
"Gimme your hand, Emma!" he raised his voice, reaching for her. She struggled against his grip, trying to push him off, but he did not relent. Before she knew it, he had managed to shove her against the wall, reaching around to grab her hidden hand.
"Get off me!" Emma yelled, suddenly panicked. She could feel the memory she'd supressed months ago creeping back up on her. "Get off, get off!"
"What are you hiding?!" Ryder shouted, eyes blazing with anger. "What the hell are you hiding?!"
"Here! Take them, take them!" Emma screamed in a whisper, thrusting the photos at him. Immediately, his face whitened considerably as he took them off the ground.
"Why do you have these?" he demanded. "Where did you find them?"
"In the mirror," said Emma quietly, cowering away from him. She was angry and hurt, but now, seeing him like this, she was terrified.
Ryder stood silent in the middle of the room for a good two minutes, staring at the photos in his hand with a blank expression.
When he did turn around, Emma winced, not wanting to meet his gaze.
"Emma," he whispered her name, voice cracking. "Blondie."
She ignored her gut, meeting his eyes. They were filled with strife, as if he was fighting a battle with and in himself.
