Emma finally forced herself to let go of Hook.
"That was-" he breathed, leaning in for another kiss.
"A one time thing," said Emma, backing away.
She had never felt this way before, and it terrified her. She had to get out of here. The alarm bells were blaring in her head. Danger Will Robinson. You're letting him get too close. Retreat! Retreat!
Move, Swan, move!
But she couldn't. It was as if her feet were rooted to the ground. Then she sank to the ground, shaking. The kiss had literally knocked the wind out of her, and she felt as if she'd never recover. She really was the one who couldn't handle it. She couldn't handle any of it. Henry was gone and in mortal danger. Neal was dead, and she'd never got to tell him how he'd hurt her. Her parents were still infuriatingly optimistic, but at least they were safe … for now. But anything could happen at any moment. She didn't want to lose anyone else.
What was she doing, kissing Hook. Why was she letting him in. Anything could happen to him. He could be taken away from her too, and she couldn't stand the thought.
She felt tears streaming down her cheeks. God, she was losing it, and in front of him too.
But she couldn't bring herself to care. She couldn't hold herself together any longer.
Then she felt arms around her. Hook was pulling her agains his chest. His hand ran through her hair soothingly. "Shhh, Emma, love," he said, "Don't cry."
Emma couldn't understand why he was being so damn comforting, considerate, and there for her. No one else did that. She pressed her face into his jacket and inhaled his scent. He smelled of musk, and sea, and leather, and it grounded her. For a moment she just let him hold her, knowing that when they left this spot, her focus would fully return to finding Henry. But for just one moment, it was only her and Hook.
No. Her and Killian Jones.