Chapter 8 - Getting Close

When an insistent knock at the door pulled her out of her couch stupor on her day off, Emma knew who it was without the visitor announcing themselves. Frankly, she was surprised it had taken Ruby this long to track her down. She hadn't been to Granny's for over two weeks, and she'd only given her friend evasive answers to her increasingly worried text messages. She'd waited for her phone to ring but she should have known that a phone call wouldn't be enough for Ruby, hence her friend almost knocking her door down.

"Hold your horses," Emma shouted, rolling her eyes when the knocking became more insistent. "I'm coming." Grabbing Rocket from where he was curled up in her lap, she set him down on the couch beside her before standing up to let her friend in.

"About time," Ruby huffed when Emma opened the door. Without an invitation, her friend pushed past her and made a beeline to the couch where she slumped down with a deep sigh. Rocket immediately stalked towards her and made himself comfortable in Ruby's lap. Emma felt a flicker of hope that the kitten might distract her friend for a few seconds, but that hope was dashed when Ruby turned her head to focus all her attention on Emma. "Spill."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

Her words only elicited a snort out of Ruby and a scowl as she just kept staring at Emma. Granted, it had been a weak attempt at denial, and she started to fidget when Ruby still didn't say a word. She seriously should have gone to the police academy or Quantico. She'd probably would have been a great spy, too. She definitely was a pro at the whole 'keep silent until your suspect couldn't take it any longer and cracked' interrogation technique.

"Fine, you can stop staring at me like that." Ruby just kept glaring at her and Emma punched her friend's arm before finally giving in. "I jumped his bones."

Ruby's expression turned confused for a moment before her eyes went wide and she gasped, "You did not."

"Yes, I did."

"Shut the front door," Ruby shrieked, startling Rocket, who jumped from her lap with an annoyed meow. Emma tracked the kitten through the living room, wishing she could just follow him to avoid the inevitable interrogation by her friend. But no such luck. Ruby straightened from her slumped position and leaned forward, her face practically glowing with anticipation. "What happened? Tell me everything."

So Emma told her everything. Well, not all the explicit details, of course. She would nottell her friend about how talented Killian was with his tongue or his cock or practically with everything when it came to sex. He even knew how to talk dirty without it turning into an imitation of a bad porno. Maybe that was why she couldn't get him out of her head.

"Wow," Ruby sighed, falling back against the couch. "He rocked your world good, huh?"

"Yeah, but it was a one-time thing."

"You sure?"

"He's a priest, Ruby," Emma felt the need to point out, even if her body screamed bloody murder. But she was determined to stay strong and put Killian and all his talented appendages out of her mind. "Yes, I'm sure. We don't have a future together."

"I don't know. Maybe…"

"You forced me to watch 'The Thorn Birds' with you. Don't tell me it could end with a happily ever after."

"Okay, you're right. The chances of it turning into a disaster of epic proportion are high. But…"

"No buts. It's over."

"I think it's mimosa time." Ruby blurted out, thankfully not trying to argue with her any longer. Jumping up off the couch, her friend walked into the kitchen. Seconds later her voice drifted out, "Margaritas would probably be more effective but it's only ten o'clock in the morning. Even I can't drink Tequila at this hour."

"Thank God for small favors."

Emma sighed and rubbed her temples, wondering if drinking alcohol right now was really the best idea. Maybe one mimosa would be enough to distract her, even if it was unlikely. Because it didn't matter how hard she tried to forget about Killian, he jumped to the forefront of her brain at least five times a day. Not to mention that almost all her dreams were about him, either the erotic kind that woke her up shivering and aching for release or the weird ones where he sauntered around in pirate clothes and threw innuendos left and right.

"You're still thanking God even though he's the reason you can't get it on with the priest again?" Ruby asked with a twinkle in her eyes as she came back into the living room with two flutes of mimosa in her hands.

Emma was grateful that Ruby was already trying to lighten the mood by making jokes about it, as if the one sexual encounter hadn't rocked her down to her core. Maybe as long as she didn't admit it out loud it would fade away with time.

Yep, time was the key. And alcohol. Lots and lots of alcohol.

Killian tugged at the altered prosthetic covering his stump, making sure it fit tightly and wouldn't chafe his skin too much. He'd had it custom-made so that he was actually able to do more work outdoors himself. With it, he could clip on a snow shovel and clean the driveway. Of course, he could only work with it for a few minutes, half an hour tops, before his stump protested too much. It would ache for hours afterwards, but sometimes he just needed that kind of physical work to clear his head.

Not that he had much luck with that over the last nine days. Each and every day he'd fought to not think about Emma, to not let his mind drift back to the cabin. He failed miserably every single time. He just couldn't get her out of his head. At least once a day he had to take himself in hand to ease the need for a few minutes. But still he woke up almost every night with a pounding cock, unable to get back to sleep without jerking himself off. The first day he'd told himself he would only let himself think of her when he couldn't take it any longer. But there were so many things that reminded him of her throughout the day. The cemetery. The first pew in the church. The kitchen. Filou. The confessional booth. How could he forget about her when she was everywhere?

His stump started to act up as he continued to shovel the snow to the side. He had only a few more minutes of silencing his mind through manual labor, but he would take all the reprieve he could get. He was almost to the street as he saw someone approaching. When he looked up and saw the woman of his dreams, his heart skipped a beat.

"Good morning, Miss Swan."

It felt safer to address her by her full name again, using her first name would feel too intimate, conjure up images he already had a hard time to forget.

"Good morning, Father Jones."

She came to a stop before him, pushing her hands deep into the pockets of her coat. An uncomfortable silence descended upon them. Clearly, she didn't know what to say either, which wasn't a surprise given how they'd parted the last time they saw each other. He'd promised himself to forget her, but as she was standing before him he couldn't feel anything but joy to be in her presence again.

He'd missed her. God, how he'd missed her.

"Nice day to be out and about, isn't it?" he asked, frantically searching for a safe topic to discuss with her, to keep her with him for a little while longer.

"Yeah, it is." She shifted from foot to foot, not meeting his eyes. Then her eyes flitted up to his for a second before she let her gaze drift over his shoulder, her discomfort clear in her voice as she said, "I don't want to keep you from your work any longer, Father Jones."

She took a step away from him, and all he knew was that he didn't want to let her go just yet.

"Miss Swan?" He stopped her before she could walk away, questioning his sanity when he opened his mouth again and asked, "Do you want to come in for a cup of coffee? Just to warm up a little?"

He immediately wished he could take the words back. Inviting her into his house was madness. The frown between her brows suggested she felt the same. He could practically see her struggle in the changes in her facial expressions. But then she looked him dead in the eyes and smiled softly, her voice barely above a whisper as she said, "Yes. I'd like that."

Despite it being a very bad idea he grinned back. Having her in his space again might ramp up his desire for her, but right then he couldn't care less.

His living room was pleasantly warm, the couch almost too comfy. Emma never wanted to leave. Filou was purring in her lap, arching his back into her hand, silently demanding to be petted. A mug of hot chocolate with whipped cream and cinnamon sat on the couch table besides a plate of still warm chocolate chip cookies, the scent of all this goodness in front of her making it even harder for her to give up the comfortable position on his couch.

Killian had to take a phone call, leaving her behind in the living room. Being alone in his domain made her wonder again what the hell she was actually doing here. She shouldn't be here. Being in his presence just made it harder to keep her hands to herself. Even now, a week after she'd accepted his invitation for a cup of coffee and four visits later, she still struggled with being near him and not really being with him. She should have said no. The pictures that had popped into her brain when he'd said that it might warm her up had been anything but innocent. Her cheeks flushed as she remembered the way he'd kissed her as if his life depended on it. His callused fingers stroking her all over, bringing her to climax over and over again. And the moment when his thick cock...no, she was not going there now. Not when he'd be back any second.

The best course of action would probably be to stand up and leave and never come back. But she'd missed him, and not just the sex. She'd missed talking to him. So she'd said yes to his offer and spent two hours in his kitchen. They'd talked and talked and talked, without any pregnant pauses. She'd loved it. So she'd come back two days later during her lunch break with grilled cheese sandwiches from Granny's. His surprised expression had only stayed in place for a second when he'd opened the door before his eyes had lit up as he'd waved her into his house with a broad smile on his face.

She knew she shouldn't read too much into their conversations. But more and more they felt like dates. At least, they'd ticked off all the classic first date questions. Like favorite color, favorite food, favorite movie, favorite books, and so on.

Now she looked forward to their 'dates'. With each 'date' they became closer. He made her laugh. He listened to her complain about how boring paperwork was, told her stories about the people he'd helped in his time as a priest. The undercurrent of sexual tension was still there, but it was so deeply buried in the darkest recesses of her mind that she could ignore it as long as she was with him. His friendship, because over the last weeks he'd become just that - a friend - was more important. She didn't want to give that up any longer. If she had to suppress the attraction she still felt for him, so be it. Sex wasn't everything, but good friends were hard to find.

"Sorry for having to take that call," Killian said as he entered the living room again. He dropped down in the armchair opposite her, leaning forward to take his mug of hot chocolate. Closing his eyes, he took in a deep breath, the innocent movement making her heart flutter. She almost wasn't able to school her features before he opened his eyes again, a soft smile pulling at his lips "Where were we?"

She actually couldn't even remember what they'd been talking about before his phone rang. But there was something she wanted to ask him for a while now. There was probably never a good time to approach such a private subject, but she wanted to get to know him better.

"You told Henry when you gave him the locket that you've been a sailor. How did you become a priest? If you don't mind me asking."

His smile faltered a little, making her wish she hadn't asked such a personal question. But before she could tell him to forget about it he regained his composure. "I lost my brother at sea." His hand went to his left arm, his fingers rubbing over the prosthetic. "The same day I lost my hand."

"I'm sorry," she murmured, wanting to find more words to comfort him. But she knew there weren't any words that would truly help after such a loss, so she stayed silent.

"I spiraled out of control after that," Killian continued after a short pause, his fingers curling tightly around his mug of hot chocolate. "Getting addicted to the pain medication. Combining the meds with alcohol. I was in a pretty dark place."

"But you pulled out of it," she said softly, admiring him for the strength it must have cost him. "What happened?"

"I met a woman." He smiled then, clearly thinking of the woman who'd saved him. "A very strong, opinionated woman who read me the riot act and pulled me out of the darkness."

"Milah," Emma breathed, remembering the tattoo on his forearm.

"Aye." A flicker of pain washed over his features, making her heart hurt. "But I lost her, too. Moments before she died she made me promise to not let myself fall again. It was hard, but I made it. With a little help from above. I walked by a church one day and just went in. I sat there for hours until the priest came up to me and we started talking. One thing let to another and I ended up here. Being a priest."

"You're a very strong man, Killian Jones." Emma had to gulp hard to keep the tears at bay that pricked at the back of her eyes.

"Not quite. I just met the right people at the right time." He shrugged his shoulders, lifting his hand to scratch behind his ear. Neither of them spoke for a few minutes, sipping at their hot chocolates. It should have felt uncomfortable. Strangely, it didn't. He put the mug down on the table after emptying it, leaning back against the cushions, his body tensing slightly as his eyes searched her face for who knew what. His scrutiny made her want to squirm in her seat. Apparently he found was he was looking for, because his posture relaxed slightly, his voice soft as he asked, "Can I ask you a personal question?"

"Since you just answered one of my personal questions, I definitely won't tell you no," Emma replied, shooting him a smile when she realized that her answer might sound a little harsh. She didn't want to imply that she thought his opening up to her put her on the spot. He would never do that. Knowing that she relaxed. "What do you want to know?"

"What happened to Henry's father?"

"He's not dead. As far as I know, he's still alive somewhere," Emma told him, averting her gaze to the mug in her hands for a moment, gathering her strength for the story to come. She knew he wouldn't pry. He never did. But she wanted to tell him. Taking a deep breath, she looked up at him again. "I grew up in foster care. I mostly lived in group homes, since I was too rebellious for most families. When I was sixteen I ran away, started living on the streets. That's where I met Neal. We had fun together. He was…" She gulped hard, remembering how free she'd felt with her ex at first. How cherished. It had all gone up in a fiery explosion later, but the first months had been something she'd never had before. Her voice was slightly scratchy as she continued, "The first time in my life I felt as if I could find a home. With him. A real home. But it was just a pipe dream."

"What happened?"

She'd never told anyone that story before, never wanted anyone to know about it. Not about her time in jail. She only ever told people when they asked about Henry's father that he left her when he found out she was pregnant. Somehow that lie had made it easier. But with Killian...she didn't want to lie to him. Didn't feel the need she had to lie to him about her past. She knew he wouldn't judge her. That he would understand. How she knew that was a mystery to her, but she didn't question it.

"He left me with a bag of watches he'd stolen in my possession. The police found me and arrested me. I ended up in jail. Two weeks later I found out that I was pregnant."

It felt as if a weight had been lifted from her shoulders. She'd carried that around for so long that it felt as if she could breathe a hell of a lot easier now. How was it possible that Killian had such an impact on her after such a short period of time?

She saw anger flicker over his expression for a moment, his eyes narrowing and his lips thinning as he pressed them hard together. No one had ever been angry at the person who'd caused her such heartache, since she'd never confided in anyone. Seeing him fighting to keep his fury in check warmed her from the inside out. She expected him to curse out her ex or something along those lines. After a few seconds he just relaxed his rigid posture, the expression in his eyes changing to something she couldn't name, something that made it suddenly hard for her to get enough air into her lungs. When he opened his mouth, his voice felt like a caress that reached down to her soul. "You're a very strong woman yourself, Emma Swan."

She wanted to wave him off or laugh about it to chase away the strong emotions his reaction to her story elicited in her, but she couldn't. She just nodded and smiled at him self-deprecatingly as she said, "We make quite a team, huh?"

"Aye," he agreed, his mouth curling up into a smile that didn't help calm down the whirlwind of emotions coursing through her. "Quite a team."

God, how could she possibly be just his friend? Gulping down all the things she wanted to say to him, she leaned forward and grabbed a cookie, shoving it into her mouth to keep herself from telling him all the things he probably didn't want to hear. They were walking on a high wire with their friendship anyways, ignoring the things that had happened in the cabin. One false step and they would fall into the abyss. She didn't want that, so she definitely needed to keep a tight grip on these unwanted feelings. Again. Because she didn't want to lose what they'd found, even if it didn't seem to be enough.