My phone lit up with a message from Killian.
We need to talk. –K
I sat and stared at the screen. I did not want to do this, talk to him, at all.
No, we don't. –E
Emma, look, this is ridiculous. Meet me at the Jolly in an hour. –K
I ignored the text, to no avail.
Emma, please? –K
I could see him sitting somewhere glaring at his phone. He was probably growling.
"Emma?" David said. I was sitting in the living room, curled up in the squishy chair.
"Hmm?" I looked up at him.
He gave me that look he'd managed to steal from Mary Margaret: head tilted down and to the side, eyes narrowed, grimace on his face. The look that tells the person on the other side that their lies would not be believed. The one that said, spill it, if you ever want any peace in your life again.
I snorted at him. "Do not pull the Mary Margaret on me, buddy. I am not in the mood." I got up to go to my bedroom to brood in private, but David grabbed my arm and pulled me back to face him.
"It's Killian, isn't it?" he asked me, his voice a near whisper as he watched me stare at my phone. My jaw clenched, and I remembered watching another jaw clench in pain, a tick along scruff.
"David, I do not want to talk about it," I said, trying to pull away. His grasp was iron, and he wasn't about to let me go until we'd had it out. At least Mary Margaret didn't get physical. Of course, with those eyes of hers, you melted without the vice grip.
He gently pushed me back in my chair, sitting himself on the coffee table in front of me, hands on my knees to keep me sitting. "Emma, both Mary Margaret and Killian told me what happened."
"Great, now I'm gossip fodder," I said, trying to keep the snarkiness out of my voice and failing miserably. My phone went off again, and David took it from me, reading the message. I yanked it back from him.
Damn it, I am not letting you pull this shit. I will be at the Jolly Roger in an hour. You need to hear what I have to say. –K
"Damn him! I don't want to hear what he has to say." I threw my phone on the sofa. "He sat there in the bar and made me feel hideous, like I was just some… fuck." I was furious. I felt used, unwanted, and humiliated.
I sighed, heavy and deep. I had watched Killian struggle with his feelings for both Milah and Emma for a long time. I knew Emma would never be that to Killian, no matter what he had said to her. Mary Margaret had said the same thing, and to Emma, but it didn't matter. Emma's childhood was such that she had a difficult time believing anyone could truly care for her. It took a long time for her to let any of us really in.
"Emma," I said, trying to stay calm. "I know you don't believe this, and I know Mary Margaret has already told you the same thing. You could never be just a…" I hesitated over the word. I really hated that word. "…one night stand to Killian. You could never be that to him."
She looked up at me, her green eyes full of bitterness and scorn. She shoved back against the chair in a huff. Her voice was small, quiet, while she stared down at her hands. "He said he never wanted me like that."
"Emma, I am quite sure that isn't what he meant, at least not entirely."
She huffed at me again. "Not entirely?" she asked.
I looked down at the floor. How do you convince someone how beautiful they are to someone else? How can you get them to realize that their stupid walls were pulling meaning from words that didn't exist?
"Killian most definitely wants you, Emma. He's wanted you since the day you met. But you were with Neal; you loved Neal. He wouldn't have come between the two of you. He never wanted to hurt you."
She crossed her arms over her chest, but she looked like she was actually thinking about what I'd said. "I have to go, Em, but think about it, ok?"
"Mmmhmm," she mumbled at me, not looking up.
"I gotta go get Mary Margaret. I'll catch you later, k?" I leaned over and kissed the top of her head.