Written In The Stars

Chapter Twenty-Four

I avoided his gaze like the plague though, refusing to even glance into those emerald eyes in fear that I'd break down again. Keep it together.

And I did. The tears that I was restraining were patiently waiting to be released somewhere that wasn't in the presence of Emerson. Somewhere were I was completely isolated and no one could witness just how weak I truly was.

Bandaging his knuckles up had become almost instinct for me to do, the work as perfect as I could achieve. I'd gained the practice from back when we were in high school, given that I would always be the person who tended to his best up knuckles after he had a fight.

My heart warmed slightly that even now, I was still doing just that. Even now, he actually trust me enough to do so.

Staring at the now bandaged hand, I didn't dare remove my gaze from it. If I didn't look at him, then I wouldn't cry. It was simple. But even the image of his wrapped hand was enough to brim my eyes with burning tears.

Emerson's hurt because of me.

He's hurt because of you, Ardella.

Why can't you stop hurting him?

"He hurt you, Ell." The sound of his voice didn't faze me in the slightest, almost like I had excepted him to break the growing silence with the gentleness of his voice, barely reaching above a whisper yet still there. He almost sounded pained. "He deserved it."

I shook my head dismissively, still refusing to meet his gaze. "That's not what I'm worried about."

"Then what?" He asked.

I sighed heavily, dropping my gaze to floor in which I was kneeled against, placing my hands in my lips as they shook. God, why was I so nervous?

Because you know Harold will sing like the birds once he wakes up.

"If this gets traced back to you, Emerson...Harold nearly died. They're not going to let you off easy. You'd lose your reputation, you'd lose everything."

Even the thought made me sick to my stomach, a turmoil churning in my stomach along with the burning sensation of bile. I'd felt unnerved ever since I'd found Harold lying limply on the floor. I knew in that second what had happened. I knew Emerson had gone back to the coffee shop after he'd taken me home. I knew he'd broken Harold as much as he could. And I knew he didn't regret any of it.

Despite the consequences.

My words were strained, screaming with a violent fear that I'd been dreading ever since I'd left the shop. Harold was a snitch. The worst kind of rat. If someone told him a secret, he'd scream if off rooftops and report it to the nearest news station. I didn't doubt for a second that he'd keep quiet about how Emerson had beaten him mercilessly, in the process landing him in a hospital bed.

And when he did, Emerson was going to lose everything.

This reputation he had built, his image to the media, the respectable young millionaire who successfully owned numerous chains and corporations. All that would have been lost once the press found out he'd almost killed a man.

And it would all be my fault.

Oh god.

The panic was quick to make an appearance in the front of my mind, clawing strongly at my throat as my breath caught in my throat.

You're ruining him again.

Why the fuck do you always have to mess things up?

I felt Emerson shift slightly in his seat, finally after a few seconds with nothing but the sound of our breathing, he spoke.

"Do you really think I give a shit about my reputation? He was harassing you Ardella. He fucking hit you. Where did you ever get the thought that I'd rather have the perfect image rather than protect you?"

The anger yelled out loud and clear, hurt lacing his words almost like what I had said offended him. As if me even thinking for a second that his career was more important was preposterous. No worry or regret traced his tone. Nothing that gave away the fact that he realised what a mistake it was risking his career for me.

I sensed a scowl had slipped on his lips, but I still didn't look up at him. Maybe it was out of fear that I'd see the regret. His words said one thing, but the eyes always told the truth. Or maybe I was just afraid of him seeing me break.

It seemed like Emerson didn't like the fact that I wasn't looking at him, because in the next second, I felt his large hands encase around my face as gently as they could, just like before. I fought the urge to sink into his touch, and I think Emerson felt the reluctance.

I held my breath, anticipating his next words, not daring to move or speak. I don't think I could even if I wanted to. My throat was suddenly too dry and every breath of oxygen felt strained.

"Ardella, look at me." His words were firm, demanding and not even an inch of room to protest, but underneath it was the undeniable gentle tone that was almost pleading. I didn't deny him.

With a small sniffle to stop the tears that threatened to set free, I peeked up to Emerson underneath thick eyelashes, hesitantly lifting my head to look him straight in the eyes.

The intensity that ignited in the depths of emerald green was responsible for the sharp inhale of air that my lungs grasped. The fury was still there, and although I knew it wasn't aimed at me, it still made my heart jump an inch. But the hurt trapped in them was the culprit of who broke it.

He looked so...betrayed. And I couldn't figure out why. Was it because I'd just assumed? I'd just assumed that he cared about his career a hell of a lot more than the girl who'd left him five years back. Had it affected him that much? With the look in his eyes, I already guessed my answer.

Emerson's body had shifted further into his seat, his body leaning down towards me so our eyes were inline with one another's.

As if something had shifted inside of Emerson, his eyes soft with reassurance, his fingers flexed around my tinted cheeks, his thumb gently brushing the heated skin as he stared me dead in the eyes.

Emerson's head shook slowly, his eyes never once wavering from mine as he spoke firmly, yet still with the soft undertone. "I'm not going anywhere."

The words were hard to truly believe. How could they not be? It wasn't three weeks ago he was pretending that we had nothing to do with each other and were just mere strangers. How had the coldness in him warmed so quickly? What had changed in him?

I didn't know the answer. But I didn't care either. The only thing that mattered was that he was here now. Despite everything, he was here now. And that's all I could have ever asked for.

"I-" My sentence was quick to be drowned out by the swing of the door that flew open, interrupting my words all together. Emerson's eyes averted away from mine as though the ocean was as calm as could be, like his heart hadn't just leapt out of his chest like mine had done. But then again, Emerson was never one to scare easily.

I on the other hand, was a whole different story. The moment my ears had registered the sudden noise, I'd jumped out of my skin with a quick snap of my head, facing whoever had entered, my eyes only to be met by a scowling Kimmy.

Shit.