15. Emmerson

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When I wake on my side on the couch, the weight of someone sitting at my hip shifts the cushions, and golden eyes peer down at me

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When I wake on my side on the couch, the weight of someone sitting at my hip shifts the cushions, and golden eyes peer down at me. I suck in a deep breath, and it truly feels like the first full breath I've taken in a long time.

"Aidan," I say his name like a prayer, and although I can't quite place or filter through the snippets of memory coming at me, he's so familiar that it causes tears to come to my eyes.

"Does something still hurt?" His forehead furrows. "I put a wrap on your foot. Don't take it off for a few days—the longer you can leave it, the better." He hesitates, but then he eases my hair off my cheek with gentle fingers.

"Nothing hurts," I say, taking him in. "I don't really remember what happened. Wolves? Is that right? A pack of them?"

"Something like that," he says. "Probably best if you're fuzzy on the details." He holds my gaze for a beat. "What do you remember? My name, obviously. Anything else?"

Heat streaks through me straight to my face and my core. This is embarrassing to admit, but since he seems to have saved me from an animal attack, it's hard to deny the truth. "I made out with you against the security hut once, but it feels like a really long time ago."

"Weeks, ago, if that's a really long time to you." He scans me, clearly looking for more.

"That's it," I say. "If I'm supposed to remember more than that, I don't."

"No," he says. "It's fine. You remember what you remember."

It's then that I check my surroundings for the first time, and I realize I don't recognize anything. The stone cottage looks like it's been torn apart. Bottles and books and all kinds of other things I don't recognize are scattered across the floor and every conceivable surface.

"Where are we?"

"A friend's place."

"He lives like this? Without a door?"

"Not usually, no." His full lips tip into the hint of a smile.

A flash of how soft yet firm those lips were when they moved against mine seizes me, and the warmth in my core spreads. Why am I so turned on by a partial smile?

"It's better if you don't think about it," he says. "What happened at the hut can't happen again."

"Yeah, no, I—" I run my hand along my face, flustered, and I huff out a breath. "How did you know what I was thinking?"

"The heat," he says and then he shakes his head. "Your cheeks went red."

I'm pretty sure they're even redder now. Great. So awesome. The hottest most perfect guy who saved me from a pack of wolves is sitting next to me on his friend's couch, and he knows I'd do a repeat of our security hut encounter in a heartbeat.

"Look," he says, and his gaze meets mine briefly before sliding away. "I'm going to tell you somethings, and I don't know if you'll remember them, but I want to be as honest as I think I can be."

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